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***
