cheras, cholas, kadai ezhu vallal, kapilar, legend of paari, literary historical fiction, malaiyaman, pandyas, parambu nadu, piranmalai, purananuru, sivaganga, speculative fiction, tamil monarchs, Tamilakam
A breakaway Kalavar clan, under the chieftainship of an ambitious young warlord, Muradan, was Warmilan’s ardent supporter. The Kalavars, fierce warriors of the northern arid lands that bordered Vadanadu, shared the same lineage as the Velirs. They too claimed descent from the Yadavas who were of Aryan stock. With most of the Kalavar clans refusing to be part of Parambu Nadu and preferring instead their traditional life of banditry, Pari welcomed Muradan, whom he treated as a son. He hoped Muradan would help bring the rest of the Kalavars into the Parambu federation. But the young prince allied himself with Warmilan. Theirs was a strange bond that stupefied Paary.
‘Why tolerate Warmilan’s irreverence?’
‘Well, my friend Kabi, Uncle drives me to be circumspect and diligent, and is tutoring me to be a better king. He teaches me to consider distasteful contingencies and birth the best decisions and policies for the nation.’
But as the years rolled by, Pari grew confident and his administration yielded abundant harvests of the agriculturalist and mercantile varieties. With Parambu Nadu flourishing, Warmilan’s influence, even among his staunch supporters, waned.
But he was a known detractor and on this day, when he praised Pari, the people rejoiced at the prospect of a reconciliation within the royal family. A roar of approval rose from the gathering. The gust so strong it filled the hall and sent the flowing curtains billowing.
Paary had no choice but to bow to the people’s needs and wishes. History remembers kings for their great deeds, their evil rule, and, on rare occasions, for their simple acts.
If the auguries of war proved true and if the worst befell Pari and Parambu Nadu, at the least antiquity will remember him better than his enemies for abandoning his chariot to a non-descriptive plant.
This much I knew, for before I became his friend, I was a poet and we bards love to draw larger-than-life images, not with paint and brush, but with stylus and words. Unlike us mortal beings, words are immortal.
Copyright @ Eric Alagan, 2019
Continued Monday 2 September 2019