Ponniyin Selvan is a Tamil magnum opus by Kalki that revolutionized Tamil literature. It weaves together travelogue, history, and Chola mythology, captivating readers with its unique blend of slang, erudition, wordplay, and vivid imagery. The first book in the series, First Flood (Westland Books, 2023), translated by Nandini Krishnan, takes readers on a journey filled with adventure, intrigue, conspiracy, and romance.
The following is an excerpt from the book.
The Astrologer of Kudandai
When Ponni, born and bred in Kudagu Naadu, had reached maidenhood, she wished to leave for the home of her bridegroom, Samudra Raja, the king of the ocean. She crossed forests and hills, flowed over stones and slopes, negotiated pits and precipices, and ran as fast as she could towards him. As she drew closer and closer to Samudra Raja, the thrill of meeting her beloved coursed through her body. Soon, she grew two arms to throw around him and, spreading them wide, leapt and skipped through the path that would lead her to Samudra Raja. Two arms, she felt, wouldn’t do justice to the anticipation and joy in her heart. And so they multiplied into ten, into twenty, into a hundred. She threw them all out as she neared his home.
And what did the foster mothers of Chozha Naadu do to ornament the bride who was dashing towards her cherished husband? Adada! What beautiful green sarees they draped around her! What riotous colours of flowers they weaved through her hair! What rare fragrances they sprayed on her! Aha! How can one hope to describe the sight of the punnai and kadamba trees on either bank raining ruby flowers down on her? Not even the celestial blossoms the devas threw down from the skies could rival them!
Oh, Ponni! Which young maiden wouldn’t lose herself in delight at the sight of you? Which woman’s heart wouldn’t brim over with contentment watching you dance along in your bridal finery? It is but natural for a bride to be surrounded by her unmarried bridesmaids, isn’t it?
Among the elegant arms Ponni had thrown out to caress her husband was one called Arisilaru. This beautiful river flowed just south of the Kaveri. No one could tell of her presence from a distance. She was hidden behind a thick canopy of lush green trees. Arisilaru was a royal maiden who had never left the safety of the antapuram since birth. The beauty of this graceful river could find no parallel on this earth.
Right. If the readers would tear themselves away from the thoughts triggered by the word ‘antapuram’ and accompany us to the Arisilaru, bend under the branches of the thicket of trees and get past them … adada! What is this beautiful sight? It is as if beauty itself were being beautified, nectar itself being sweetened!
Who are these lovely ladies seated in a luxurious boat carved in the likeness of a swan? They could be versions of Goddess Saraswati herself! And who is this jewel among women seated in their midst, like a full moon glowing among the stars, like a queen born to rule the seven worlds? And who is this serene beauty sitting by her side, holding a veena, the perfect foil to her vivacity? They might be Gandharva women, their melodious voices stirring notes of music into the song of the river. One of them was meenalochani, with eyes like pools where fish danced; another was neelalochani, her eyes bringing to mind the deep blue of the ocean. One had a face like a tender lotus, another lips like the petals of a lotus in full bloom. As for the girl who was playing the veena, one cannot stop staring at her delicate fingers, long and slim as the petals of the kanthal flower, as they dance over the frets of the instrument.
And what of the song they are singing? Even the river has subdued her currents so she can listen to their voices, hasn’t she? The parrots and koels that live on the trees by the banks have slipped into silence! It should come as little surprise that humans, blessed with ears and the ability to hear, are moved by the intoxicating music from the boat. Let us listen:
Marungu vandu sirandhu aarpa
Manippu aadai adhuporthu
Karungayarkan vizhithu olgi
Nadandhai vaazhi! Kaveri!
Karungayarkan vizhithu olgi
Nadanda ellam ninkanavan
Tirundu sengol valaiyamai
Arinden vaazhi! Kaveri!
Poovar solai mayilada
Purindu kuyilgal isaippaada
Kaamar maalaiarugasaiya
Nadandai vaazhi! Kaveri!
Kaamar maalaiarugasaiya
Nadanda ellam ninkanavan
Naama velin tirangande
Arinden vaazhi! Kaveri!
As bees buzz on either side,
Wearing your fabric of flowers,
Your dark, fish-like eyes wide open,
You walk by. Long live, Kaveri!
Your dark, fish-like eyes wide open,
Your husband’s sceptre stays unbent,
I hear. Long live, Kaveri!
As peacocks dance among bowers of flowers,
And koels sing in time to their feet,
Bearing swaying garlands of flowers,
You walk by. Long live, Kaveri!
Bearing swaying garlands of flowers,
You walk, and I see
Your husband’s skill with the spear,
Long live, Kaveri!
We have heard these divinely beautiful lines somewhere, haven’t we? Yes, they are from the Silappadikaram. They come alive as never before in the voices of these lovely maidens, and draw the listener in. They must be the closest confidantes of the Ponni, for no one else could sing with such energy and such emotion of her beauty! Adada! The music, lyrics and passion of those lines swell into a flood of nectar as they sing. What’s the point of this dissection and analysis of music and lyrics and songs and tunes? It has nothing to do with any of that. This is some sort of illusory magic, a spell that intoxicates the singer and listener alike and drives one mad.
