Friday, 18 July 2025

Amman’s weave (அம்மன் நெசவு) by M. Gopalakrishnan Chapter - 1

 


Original novel’s name: Amman Nesavu

Translated into English: Saravanan Karmegam. 

Chapter 1

Those four men were walking, their manoeuvre radiating seriousness, through the darkness that descended on the long road lying in the arterial corridor of Ujjain city. The tower at the entrance of the temple looked indistinct in the backdrop of the dark sky. The single flame, undisturbed in the gust of wind, burning at the niche in the main entrance, seemed to invite them. In that darkness past midnight, all the streets were lying calm, in deep slumber as if no one was prepared to receive those men approaching the Amman temple. They were walking with decisive steps without an absolute necessity of talking to each other. No one was wearing sandals. They had covered their body with black blankets, ostensibly disliking brightly coloured attire to avoid attention. As they went near to the temple, Veerabhadra Chetty took out the bunch of keys from his waist pouch and opened only the small wicket door of the mammoth entrance without making noise. Sooner, all four slithered through the door into the temple premises, bending, folding their legs; the door closed behind.

They took their blankets off. Malligarjunan’s face, soaked in sweat, glistened in the light of the flame. Arthanari tightened his turban. As soon as they got the signal from Savundappa Chetty, all four trooped on the stone path. Despite the full moon the next day, the moonlight was not fully bright enough there. The strands of rays remained weak to drive away the darkness in the temple hall. The earthen lamps twinkling here and there were emitting dull light as if running out of oil. Without opening the main door of the sanctum sanctorum, they went a roundabout way through the corridor on the right, opened the door facing the guarding deity, reached the inner corridor, and went straight into the sanctum sanctorum. Savundappa Chetty lit the lamps on the pillar. As soon as the wicks of every lamp caught fire at their tips, the shadows of pillars grew thicker as the darkness in the hall slowly began waning. A drop of sweat from the tip of his sharp nose fell on a flame, flickered it a little, and then disappeared. Malli Chetty and Veerabhadra Chetty were standing, staring absorbedly at the golden statue of Goddess Soudeshwari sitting majestically in thin silhouette under darkness. Malli Chetty sobbed mildly, breaking open his silence and grit he had been holding till now. He stood visibly struggling to wipe the flooding tears flowing down his cheeks as his bulging lips trembled. Veerabhadran, as if affected by Malli’s snuffles, wiped hard the tears that sprang from his heavy eyes. He put his hands on Malli Chetty and pressed it down gently. Arthanari and Savundappa Chetty came there with two lamps. All stood in a trance for a moment, seeing the Amman statue gleaming with celestial appeal under light. They felt the smile on Amman’s face, sitting with her shiny body in golden light, looked more attractive than usual.

“Amma…our Goddess! We just do what we think is right. Please protect us from any harm. You have to save us till the end. If our Devangar clan is to be saved from today’s crisis and prosper, there is no other way than this…” Savundappa Chetty’s steely voice hit the stone walls and dissipated. He brought a palm leaves chest lying in the corner and placed it in the front. It had been kept ready since evening. He once again checked the soft silk drapes folded neatly and evenly spread on its surface and straightened up his body. He touched the Amman’s feet with his hands, touched his eyes, and then dabbed at his cheeks mildly with fingers. Arthanari bent down with his eyes closed, tightening the loosened towel girdling his waist, touched Amman’s feet, and got up. Malli Chetty prostrated with his hands folded as tears still flowed. All four had a last full good view of the Amman statue once. Veerabhadran and Savundappa Chetty detached the statue from its base, carried it in their hands, and moved forward. Rangasamy helped them out to open the chest and keep the statue in it. Keeping the amman horizontally in the box, they wedged the gaps fully with silk drapes and kept the golden sword and Kumkum vase on its side. At once he fixed the inner lid of the chest correctly; he glanced at others inquiringly. Those three nodded their heads, acknowledging it. Arthanari, then, unlocked the heavy padlock of the antique trunk lying along the wall and pulled open its lid with all his might. Sooner the trunk opened with its heavy screeches, the rays of light jumped into it and fell onto the jewels and silk cloths kept inside. Once they received the silk cloths in their hands, Malli Chetty and Veerabhadran bundled up the jewels in small packs. They spread the jewel packets tidily on the inner lid of the trunk and closed it. They then locked the trunk, closing its outer lid, fixing all its locking systems in order. Their bodies were soaked in sweat. Malli Chetty was a little composed now. They brought the trunk out slowly and turned back a moment to look at the sanctum sanctorum. The face of light that swung in the emptiness looked ugly. Savundappa Chetty pulled the curtain swiftly as if unable to see it for long and closed the door. When they came out to the outer corridor, the moonlight was a little brighter. While others were pacing behind him fast, Veerabhadran was carrying the chest on his shoulder. The resolve that was stronger than the urgency in their walk seemed to offer them a hope.

Would any remnants of this temple be left after the brutal attack of the Mughal army that was set to lay siege tomorrow or a day after? This temple stands nowhere in front of those ruthless plunderers who had destroyed Vidhisha’s Someshwara temple. Does it? Sooner they heard the news of Mughal’s loot of Someshwara Temple’s jewels and idols of metal alloys, they wasted no time deciding unanimously to shift the Soudeshwari Amman statue to a safer place. The plundering army could at any time reach this city, which is a thousand miles away from Vidhisha. If only they left Ujjain city with the Soudeshwari Amman statue, they would be able to sustain their clan, they believed. If they could cross the leeward side of the mountain with a safe passage through the Chandravati River by the next night after keeping the palm leaves chest with Amman’s idol and jewels at Malli Chetty’s house for a day, they believed that they would have a future. Only after informing all sixty-four branches of the Devangar Chetty clan of their decision that they would be leaving the city that night, strictly keeping their decision of taking the Amman statue away from the temple as a top-kept secret among themselves, did those four men come to the temple past midnight.

When they reached Malli Chetty’s house, they saw the flutter of the first bird in the clean sky of dawn.

Breaking the silence of Chandravati’s calm flow, they got into the water. It was a full moon day. Everyone seemed to be goaded by a collective spectre of anxiety and urgency that denied them a chance to enjoy the beauty and coolness of the river that flowed in all its sheen under moonlight. Men and women were trailing behind those men walking in the front with a steely resolve, carrying small boys and girls on their shoulders, sitting with their tight clasps. No one had any trace of sleep on their faces. Clothe bundles in everyone’s heads and hands. Those bundles made in urgency contained only some essentials, which they considered important. The present urgency coupled with constraints had forced them to forego all other items, which they collected with their prudent purchases all through their life. They grew mentally tired at seeing the stuff they could pile up for packing during the time they got after receiving the information to leave the city that night itself. How many days are we going to travel? Where are we going to land? Will we be able to come back here? While their thoughts were running amok, churning in their mind, the time was just going out of their hands with its absurd speed. Everyone was worried about the future of looms standing silently in the loom houses. No one would dare to imagine a second without their hands on looms. Both looms and its sounds, in fact, lived in their bodies and souls. Their hands never lived a life without touching those looms. How many weaves! How many saris! How many incredible varieties of saris have they woven? Today neither could we carry them along with us nor bundle them up, dismantling their parts. The question, ‘What to do with these looms?’ stood as a riddle before them. Some of them were packing them adamantly to carry them on their shoulders. Malligarjuna Chetty and Arthanari went to every household and asked them to get ready. They admonished those people who packed their stuff beyond their carrying capacity and made them lessen their load to the bare minimum of requirements. The requests from the people to pack the loom items were flatly denied.

“We don’t know the direction that we would all be thrown into when it gets dawn. We don’t know where our Goddess Soudeshwari would take us all. I understand it is extremely painful to leave these looms, which had almost become like our limbs. I am also leaving the loom in my house that was blessed with Amman’s Weave. It is all destiny. Let us first think of our lives as to whether we will survive. If the blessings of our goddess are with us, we can have a new lease on life…” Everyone was silently listening to Malli Chetty’s mollifying words and nodded their heads as they thought it was not the right time to object to him.

At the same time all the households of sixty-four families of the Devangar Chetty clan were busy leaving the city, while Qasim Khan’s army was plundering the regions in the western border of Ujjain. It was the Amman Temple tower that glittered under moonlight that aroused their frenzy when they entered the city on the night of full moon day. Plundering temples meant nothing short of bloodthirst for that ruthless army for the simple reason that the invading army would be maddened at the possibility of unlimited loot of gold, ornaments, silk clothes, and golden utensils on temple premises. Another facet of such loot that propelled their frenzy was the challenge the temples posed—breaking the layers of security, demolishing the walls, and burying their hands into treasures either hidden or buried—a big challenge! Each temple proved a challenge. Newer hiding spots…newer techniques of hiding it. Big wooden trunks buried in underground cellars, metal utensils, golden urns buried behind walls, and jute bags hidden deep in wells—the looters were now well versed in all possible hiding spots of treasures in temples. They had a very peculiar experience in Mathura a day before yesterday. When they smashed the entrance beam of the temple while climbing up intending to break the urns kept on the top of towers, they were stunned, speechless to see gold coins that showered on them like a rain of bright sun rays.

But the Amman temple walls didn’t pose them any great challenge. Their entry into the temple was relatively smooth as they didn’t counter the resistance usually offered by a layer of mammoth wooden doors at the gateway. The temple meekly surrendered to the hands of the pillaging army that entered the temple premises, spread all along the corridors with an insensitive speed. The sacred spaces where the divine hymns were once flowing were now replete with murderous noises. The limbs of beautiful danseuses in sculpture were cut off. The doors with intricate carvings were detached from their hinges. Even after a full-scale loot of the temple, the army grew tense at not having the bounty it looked for. When they found all the possible hiding places of treasures, they laughed at them with their empty look; the frenzy of rage got into their heads. They couldn’t even get hold of something worth calling a gold coin. Qasim Khan’s eyes grew red with rage. The laughter of victory that rose from the empty sanctum sanctorum without Amman’s statue did tease him. All the streets around the temple lay empty. Knowing no other way to abate his growing fury, he set ablaze the houses that stood in his way. The ‘Thousand-eyed’ Grand Stone lamp in the front yard of the temple stood bare naked without flames in it.

Men, women, and children from all the sixty-four families of the clan were crossing the river waist-deep. Goddess Soudeshwari, lying in a palm leaves chest, was perching on Malli Chetty’s head, who was hurrying up his people standing on the banks. They had nurtured an immense hope of survival ever since they managed to bring the Amman statue from the temple and keep it in Malli Chetty’s house. Thought it was easier trailing behind the people breaking the water in front; the other side of the river looked very far as they got their legs tangled with fear and anxiety. It was so planned that Malli Chetty would get into the water along with the Amman idol once the scout got onto the bank opposite. Eight men, including Arthanari, stood around Malli Chetty. Other than the burbling noise of legs moving under water, no sound was heard around. As soon as they got the signal to take their steps into the water, with his heartfelt prayers, Malli Chetty stepped into Chandravati, wetting his first leg. His escort of eight men also got into the river without breaking their security cover. The people who reached the other side of the river, by this time, started moving towards the slopes of the mountain.

All of them stood a second, hesitant to move ahead, as they heard the rattling sounds of horses that came piercing the darkness. They were halfway through the river. They could see the frantic sways of torches afar. Mustering up their quick wits, they began sprinting towards the other side of the river. Malli Chetty found it very difficult to take his steps faster in the flow of water. The load on his head and its wobbles on the move took a toll on his balanced walk and thus caused his anxiety to shoot up. The crowd that reached the other side breathed the first bout of relaxed air while nearing the slopes of the mountain, disappearing from view, was still reeling under enormous fear seeing the horses fast approaching them in water. Fiercely delivered commands in blind, frantic roars to take away lives! The swords glinting in the lights of torches!

As his feet skidded a moment under water, Malli Chetty fell off, yelling out, “Amma…” While Rangasamy’s strong hands could catch hold of Malli Chetty from falling, he couldn’t save the palm leaves-chest falling into Chandravati’s flow with a plop. It drowned swiftly and disappeared. Arthanari and Malli Chetty jumped into the flow as if possessed and groped under water only to see their efforts go in vain. The very moment they bent down again to resume their groping efforts, they felt the horses approaching them feverishly. They took to their heels, moved fast, breaking water as if their legs had got harshly goaded by the fear for life. They fell onto the river sand, rolled over as if being pushed by someone with force.

They looked back at the river as they were rolling over the sand. The river was shining as if it had devoured a volume of light. Sword-wielding soldiers were falling onto the ground, unable to march ahead in the swirls of the river as their frightened horses refused to budge, neighing. Those eight men who ran fast, wasting no time, turned back even after safely reaching the slopes of the mountain and ensured that no one crossed the river.  

The chest was floating, slowly, on Chandravati’s water that shone under the moonlight.

                                                            ***Ended***

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