Valli panicked. The brash young man appeared to have taken the form of this magnificent tree. Perhaps he was a conjuror skilled in playing tricks. Still, he was handsome and full of life. She could not bear the thought of sharp axes cutting into his flesh. Should she say something to stop the men from cutting down the tree? How could she not? She had to save him . . .
14
Nectar and Moonlight
Nambi’s men came to the tree and looked up at it. They decided they would climb up first and cut off its dense branches. Valli opened her mouth to protest, frantically searching for the right words to stop them. She could not say that the tree was in fact a young man, for her father would immediately conclude that she had been possessed by an evil spirit. The first man had already put his arms around its trunk and begun to climb. ‘Stop!’ she shouted. But her voice was drowned by a loud yell as the man fell down with a crash.
‘Where did it go?’ the man shouted in confusion. The others gasped as they saw that the tree had disappeared. Nambi rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Had he imagined the tree then? But the others had seen it too.
‘Father, I am happy to see you with my food,’ said Valli. ‘But perhaps you should not venture out in the harsh heat, for it makes you see things that are not there!’ As she looked at her father and his men looking around in confusion, she wondered why she had not told them about the stranger’s visit. Then she told herself that it was because she wished to find out more about him before exposing him to her father’s ire.
Nambi soon left the place with his men, and Valli began to eat her meal of millet flour, honey and sweet potato, washed down with buffalo milk. Muruga came before her again, but this time as an aged ascetic, wearing prayer beads and holy ash. Valli rose to her feet to offer him a respectful welcome. ‘I feel faint with hunger. Can you give me a little of your food, beautiful one?’ he quavered. She asked him to sit beside her and gave him handfuls of the sweetened flour until he said that he had eaten enough. ‘Take me to the river nearby so that I can quench my thirst,’ he asked her next. He sagged against her as she led him there and scooped up water in her hands for him to drink. The next moment, he began caressing her face and asking her to marry him.
She shook off his hand and retreated from him. ‘Men are always fools, whatever their age!’ she cried out. ‘Go your way now before I curse you for your impudence. Your grey hair and feeble form stop me from treating you as you deserve to be treated.’ She stormed away, shaking her head in dismay. Muruga felt heartbroken at her leaving him. He waited until evening and made his way to her village in the form of a bangle seller. The women clustered around him like noisy parrots, picking at the shiny bangles gleaming red, green, purple and gold. ‘Look how they glitter!’ exclaimed Valli’s mother. ‘These bangles are more beautiful than any I have seen in my life.’
The bangle seller clasped Valli’s wrists and adorned them with his best bangles. ‘Your arms are slender and smooth like lily stalks,’ he whispered. ‘Promise that you will be mine and I will decorate you with bangles of gold, studded with priceless gems.’
Valli pulled her hands out of his grasp and rose to her feet. Why were so many strangers wooing her today? Was it a sign that she must give up her love for the Devi’s son and marry someone else? No. She would not change her mind even if she were to remain single all her life.
‘The bangle seller seems taken with you,’ said her friend. ‘If I were you, I would marry him, and not pine after an unseen god.’
‘Never!’ Valli retorted. ‘My mind is set on Muruga, the warrior of heaven, the guardian of truth. He has stolen my heart, and I will die before I marry anyone else!’ She glared at the stranger who remained unflustered. She flounced off to shed some tears in private. Where was her beloved? Why had he not come for her yet?
What should I do next? wondered Kartikeya. Valli had shown that she was firm in her resolve to marry Shiva’s son. His heart danced within him. His Valli was a joyous spirit, his precious soulmate. He would reveal himself to her, hold her close in his arms and never let go. It was time to enact the final scene.
Muruga came before Valli in the fields the next day, disguised again as the old ascetic. ‘I will share my food with you, but only if you promise not to behave foolishly,’ she told him sternly.
‘Sharanam Ganesha!’ the ascetic said aloud, seeking refuge in the god of auspicious beginnings. And his brother did not fail him.
Valli screamed as she saw a fierce, trumpeting elephant charging at them. She froze, with her eyes fixed on the behemoth. Then she sought the help of her companion, calling out in a quavering voice: ‘Save me, holy one! I promise I will give you whatever you wish for in return!’
Muruga caught her up in his arms and smiled gratefully at his brother. ‘Do you really want to marry a second time?’ Ganesha asked, communing with him silently. ‘Have you not seen how I suffer, caught between three wives? A beautiful woman is delightful, no doubt. But you cannot trust the amorous glance of a fickle girl!’
‘Alas, I cannot live without this maiden,’ Muruga replied, just as silently. The elephant nodded, raised his trunk and trumpeted loudly before vanishing from the scene. Valli opened her eyes warily and looked around for the animal. But she could not see it anywhere. Realizing that the ascetic’s arms were pulling her even closer, she tried to draw away from him. What price would he demand for saving her? Though she struggled fiercely, she could not escape his embrace. How had the old man grown so strong? Oh, what trap had she fallen into? Would she now have to choose between her vow to marry Muruga and her promise to the ascetic? She would plead with the old man to free her from her hasty promise. She could not give up on her true love. Valli looked up with pleading eyes at her captor.
She gasped in shock, for the ascetic had now transformed into a magnificent warrior, with six heads and twelve arms. He gazed at her with a fierce passion that made her blush. Her Muruga had come! Her beloved was here! She realized with a start that it was he who had taken various forms to affirm his love. She felt excited, scared and confused, all at the same time. Then she felt a surge of joy that swept everything else away. She made a tentative attempt to move away from him. But when he refused to let her go, she relaxed in his arms, allowing him to clasp her in a fierce embrace. Then, in silent agreement, they walked away into the forest, to find a secluded spot where they could spend time together without being seen. Muruga kissed her forehead and lifted her face with one hand so that he could look into her eyes.
‘Sweetest sugarcane! Fragrant honey!’ he whispered. ‘You are like a rare wine that intoxicates me when I take just a sip. You are the mistress of my heart, making it dance like a puppet on strings.’
She gave in to his caresses, her pulse fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. Cruel Time flitted past and soon it was dark. She drew back from him with a start. ‘It is not fitting that the chieftain’s daughter should indulge in such furtive behaviour,’ she said. ‘Let me go now or my parents will come looking for me.’
‘You do not love me the way I love you,’ Muruga said, his face darkening. She shook her head in denial and he clasped her again in his arms and kissed her fervently.
When she could speak again, Valli said softly, ‘There can be nothing sweeter than the touch of your arms and your lips, my love. I would readily elope with you this very day, for I do not care for morose men and women who tell girls that they cannot do this or that! But I fear that my parents will be left heartbroken.’
Delighted by her words, Muruga asked her if she really meant what she said. Then he coaxed her to come closer, ever closer, until she tore herself from him, saying that she had to leave. But even after that, she lingered. She tied up her dishevelled hair and straightened her clothes. ‘Oh, my jewelled girdle has fallen to the ground because you caressed me so roughly!’ she exclaimed. ‘I must fasten it securely or my friends will look askance at me. But what will I do to hide my swollen lips, bruised by your kisses?’ She shook her head at him and finally walke
d away, oh so slowly, her hips swinging, her anklets jingling. She turned again and again to cast him a saucy look over her shoulder.
It seemed as if they had loved each other through the ages; that they had been one and would soon be one again. But in the intervening time, they could neither sleep nor eat. They could barely wait for the next morning so that they could be together again. Each night was torturous, for the moonlight burned their bodies, and every breath was a sigh. ‘What passion is this, that it flares higher when we are together and also when we are apart!’ he exclaimed. ‘My cuckoo, my pigeon, my swan!’ he babbled foolishly, drunk with Valli’s beauty. ‘Let me take you away and make you mine.’
Their delight in each other knew no bounds. The gentle breeze dispelled the heat of their passion as they cavorted in the forest. They grew reckless and lay together on the sandy banks of the river, watching the wagtails, the blue jays and the gold finches flit past. They watched the wildfowl nibble at the buds and seeds of the water lilies. Valli gazed in wonder at the geese and herons flying by, like a luminous necklace for the skies. She told him she was superlatively happy but had just one regret. ‘The day I spend in your arms flies by like a moment split many thousand times. But the night when we are apart appears unending, like countless lifetimes.’
Her friends suspected the truth and gossiped among themselves. ‘Did you meet someone in the woods?’ they asked her. ‘Your breath is heated and your face is flushed.’
‘No, no, it is the result of the fierce wind,’ she replied, turning her face away. When she saw two people talking, she thought they were talking of her. When they smiled, she thought they had discovered her secret. ‘The village girls tattle about me, rolling their eyes and whispering behind cupped hands,’ she said to him. ‘But I do not care.’ He kissed away her doubts and fears until she was joyful again.
Sometimes, he wondered guiltily about how Devasena was faring, separated from him and his love. But he could not leave Valli, not until they could be joined for eternity. His destiny was linked to both of them and through them to the creatures of the earth. After all, Indra’s daughter had been raised by Airavata and Valli had been born of a deer. Both maidens were united in their love for him, but differed in many ways. His celestial wife was slender and ethereal while her earthly counterpart was lush and exuberant. Devasena was gentle and lived by the rules of cosmic order, while Valli was bold and ready to flout conventions for the sake of love. His marriage in heaven had been arranged by the gods and sanctified by rituals, but his union with Valli was sanctioned only by their hearts. He had come to Valli, as Purusha to Prakriti, to reciprocate her love. This was the path of bhakti that would brook no barriers . . .
But a barrier did arise, as the seasons changed and the millet ripened. Valli had to stay back in the village while Nambi went with his men to harvest the crop. She was devastated for she no longer had an excuse to meet Muruga. She grew pale and walked around in a daze, not knowing what she was doing. Her mother was worried and told the other women, ‘My daughter adds spice to the rice instead of the curry. She wears her clothes inside out and talks of the spear and the bow. She babbles about magical trees and trumpeting elephants. I fear that her mind is deranged. Oh, what shall I do?’
‘You should summon the soothsayer. Did your husband not tell you about the rosewood tree that appeared on your field? Maybe it was a demon who has now entered Valli’s body!’
‘I fear that may be true,’ said Valli’s mother. ‘I will do whatever must be done to reclaim my daughter’s spirit.’
The men she sent out brought back a majestic shaman, carrying a spear, a flute and a horn. He wore red robes and a garland of flame lilies. His feet were coloured with red dye and adorned with tinkling anklets. He wore new ashoka leaves as earrings. With him came gaily dressed women, their hair woven with kadamba flowers, dancing to the beat of their drums. Many men came with them, wearing wreaths of white jasmine and wild mushrooms, drunk on the toddy brewed from the sap of trees.
‘O, your daughter is indeed possessed by a demon,’ said the shaman. ‘You must conduct a feast in honour of Lord Muruga in order to free her from his clutches.’ Valli laughed on hearing this. And then she cried. What must her beloved be thinking, now that she no longer came to him? The whole village came together to make preparations for the feast. They brought Valli to the clearing where the shaman presided over the rituals. They sang songs in praise of Muruga and danced gaily. Valli was downcast, her eyes fixed on the ground, unable to participate in the festivities.
The shaman danced around her, waving his staff, sprinkling her with water fragrant with basil leaves. ‘Look up, my child!’ he said and marked her forehead with vermilion. She gazed at his face and her eyes widened in shock. She staggered and he put his arm around her waist to keep her from falling. Her friends brought fans made of palm leaves to revive her from her swoon. She waved them away, looking intently at the shaman’s face, for he was none other than Muruga himself. ‘I could not stay away from you. Why did you not come?’ he whispered in her ear. ‘She is now free of the demon. I have reclaimed her spirit!’ he then announced to the crowd. The villagers cheered and made merry, eating the rich food they had cooked, drinking the liquor they had brewed.
That night, the lovelorn pair eloped. Nambi came to see his daughter before retiring to bed but could not find her. He woke his wife up but she knew nothing of Valli’s whereabouts. ‘Where is she?’ he raged, storming out to call for her, waking up the groggy villagers. ‘Valli will never leave her adored father. Some ruffian must have carried her away! We are all fools that we were drinking and dancing when he dragged her away. Did anyone see a stranger in our village?’
Valli’s friends whispered to one another and looked fearfully at Nambi. ‘Speak up now! What do you have to say?’ he shouted.
‘The shaman spent a long time alone with Valli,’ said one. ‘He sat whispering in her ear and feeding her sweetmeats. We . . . we thought that he was reviving her, for she had been so pale and wan. But perhaps . . . perhaps he had a darker plan in mind.’
‘The shaman!’ Nambi exploded. ‘We trusted him and he has stolen our Valli away! Why did you not tell me this earlier? We must find him at once. They could not have gone far. Let us check the woods where he may be hiding. Do not hesitate to use your weapons against the trickster!’
Narada watched from the skies, fearful that this encounter would end in bloodshed. It would not be an auspicious beginning for a wedding.
15
The Cosmic Axis
‘I hear my father’s voice rallying his men,’ whispered Valli. ‘They are calling out my name, assuming that I have been carried away by force. Should I go to them and tell them that I have come of my own free will? How long can we hide from them?’
‘No!’ said Muruga drawing her deeper into the forest where they were hiding. ‘They will not listen to you. Your father must have given them orders to kill me and take you back.’
‘Kill you? I cannot let them do that!’ she cried out.
‘Softer, softer,’ he whispered. ‘You do not want them to find us now.’ His face was thoughtful, as he wondered if he should take these men on. These hunters were no threat to one who had defeated Indra and Taraka. But he wished to avoid a confrontation, as he did not wish to kill Valli’s kinsmen.
Unfortunately, the men knew how to track even small animals through the forest. Finding these two was easy, for they had left a clear trail behind them. They ambushed the lovers and began to shoot arrows at the man whom they viewed as their enemy. Muruga hurriedly pushed Valli behind a tree and retaliated with his own arrows, fearing that she would be injured by the hunters’ wild barrage. His weapons quickly found their mark and the men fell wounded or dead.
‘It is safe now, my love. Come out of hiding,’ he said to Valli. She peered out in horror at the bodies strewn around. ‘Alas, my father! My people!’ she lamented. ‘I have become the cause of your death. Forgive me, forgive me,’ she cried. She fell to he
r knees beside her father’s body and shed copious tears. Muruga was unable to bear her sobbing and rushed to her to console her. But she would not look at him, consumed by guilt and distress.
‘Do not cry, my little dove,’ he said. ‘I will do anything to stop your tears.’ A river of light poured from his raised hand and the dead were restored to life. They stirred and sat up on the ground, looking confused when they discovered that their wounds had been miraculously healed. Before them stood a six-faced divine form that they realized was Shiva’s son who had come to claim his bride. Nambi fell in rapturous devotion at Kartikeya’s feet. His men stared awestruck at the god and then they joined their hands in worship. They led the pair of lovers reverently back to the village and regaled the women with the story of how they had been brought back from Yamaloka by Muruga’s grace. The clan rejoiced at their good fortune, for the god they had worshipped for so long had come to live with them. They brought him garlands of red oleander and offerings of honey, incense and fragrant cooked rice. Soon, they brought him their travails too and he blessed them with happiness and harmony. Valli was happy to see that her Muruga had stolen not just her heart, but also the hearts of her people.
‘Son of three-eyed Shiva! Beloved of Valli! Permit us to perform your marriage as per our customs,’ said Nambi.
Muruga saw Valli’s face blossom with joy as he nodded his consent. He invoked Ganesha who appeared as a native priest to conduct their wedding. ‘Should I call you Kartikeya, Skanda or Muruga?’ he teased the groom when they were alone. ‘I am happy that you always call upon your big brother to solve your problems!’
Kartikeya and His Battle with the Soul Stealer Page 15