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sampigehoovu · 10 months

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the faint smell of rain hitting the earth

Kundavai x Vandiyadevan

Kandukondain Kandukondain AU

Yes, or no?

It was another day, with another potential groom arriving at her doorstep; to scrutinise and judge her. She wore the red silk saree, simple and plain with the gold kaasu chain. As she put long strands of jasmine in her hair, the doorbell rang.

“Get the door,” her mother’s voice rang from the kitchen, where she was probably frantically frying bajjis for the visiting family. She sighed, flattened her hair once more before she pulled the latch and swung the door open wide.

There was no family. Just one man.

A sudden wave of shyness swept through her, she looked down.

Dressed in brown pants, a very dull shirt over another checked shirt. She dared to steal a glance at his face. A head full of curly hair, a scruffy beard and dark brown eyes that were staring into hers. Startled when she met his eyes, he turned away, raising his hands to run it through his hair.

Vandiyadevan felt a sudden wave of shyness too, this woman standing in front of him was breathtaking. The red of her saree, the strands of jasmine falling over her shoulders, the elegant hand twisting the door knob, her light brown eyes, which he unexpectedly toppled into. Was she the owner of the house? Sensation and thought returned to him, he was here to do something else!

He stepped in, “Hi, I’m Vandiyadevan,” he held his hand out. Before she could take it in hers, her mother came bounding out to greet him.

“Come in, son, come in! Have you come from the US?”

“Yes, New York. How did you know?”

“Did you come alone?”

He had looked thoroughly confused, this should have been Kundavai’s first warning but she just stood as he said, “I like handling things in a straightforward way." He brushed past her and walked in with her mother. The calming breath she took in brought with it traces of tobacco, sweat, dust and sandalwood? Would the smoking be a problem, she wondered as she followed him into the main hall where her mother insisted she stay while they spoke.

Vandiyadevan was awestruck by the house, it was perfect! He just had to get their permission to shoot now. He had begun the conversation and it had all gone downhill from there. They had mistaken him for a potential groom! The beautiful girl in the red saree had not said yes to giving them permission to shoot at her home, but to marry him.

He was pushed out of the house, thoroughly annoyed by the entire episode until he had seen her standing on the balcony, crying. There he was, embarrassed by the whole ordeal. Only, she must have been more heartbroken. She had seen him looking, quickly wiping away her tears, but not hiding. He had walked back to where the film crew was working, in awe of this woman who he had just met, and who had agreed, in some twisted way, to marry him!

When Arunmozhi had asked her, in a fit of his poetic inspiration, what kind of man she had wanted to marry, she had said, “I want him to have kind eyes.”

The man sitting in her living room, with those brown eyes that reminded her of coffee and somehow the faint smell of rain hitting the earth, had kind eyes. Pushed to a corner, despite her misgivings, she had said yes, she’d marry him. He was handsome, and seemed like an educated young man, what was the worst that could happen?

“The car met with an accident!”

“I’m an assistant director, I came to ask permission for a shoot!”

Her stomach had dropped, her hands growing cold when she realised he was not the potential bridegroom. A total stranger who had not come for her hand, but something else entirely. She was initially mortified, at the confusion only for a wave of utter humiliation to take over her when she realised that she had agreed to marry someone she had barely spoken a word to. She ran to the terrace, tears streaming down her face without her even noticing.

When she had moved to her grandfather’s village with her mother and her younger brother, she had made her peace with many changes. From spending her time with computers and codes, she had jumped into administering not just an educational institution, but various other organisations and charities her grandfather had started. She accepted her changing roles in life with grace. Her mother, who had taken over the running of the household, depended on her. Her younger brother, a dreamer who only came alive to poetry. Along with her ailing grandfather, they formed the centre of her life in the small village that had unexpectedly become home.

Her fiance’s death had been unexpected, she had never had much attachment to the man but he had died and left her with the taint. But she had accepted that too, she was not auspicious or lucky, she would not marry into some family and be called the Lakshmi of the house. She was cursed by the stars and there was no amount of pujas or penances that would solve the problem. Yet, her mother kept trying to find her a suitable groom. As the years went by, they had become less suitable and more desperate. Her mother kept trying and she did not have the heart to tell her that it was a hopeless quest. Kundavai, the perfect daughter, was not so perfect after all.

She felt eyes on her, there he was, Vandiyadevan looking up at her from the street. He seemed mortified by the entire episode too, but he had not been the one to blame. He was not cursed, as she was. She wiped away her tears, and couldn’t bring herself to look at him again.

---

I love Sense and Sensibility, I love Kandukondain Kandukondain. They adapted the novel to both the context and the time so well. Tabu played Elinor/Sowmya with such grace and ease.

Kundavai and Elinor/Sowmya seemed alike in the way that they take up responsibility for their families, which was the only strand of similarity I could find but I ran with it. More to come as I rewatch the movie and reread the book!

#Kundavai x Vandiyadevan #kundavai #vandiyadevan #kandukondain kandukondain #jane austen adaptations #ponniyin selvan #alternate universes #ps ff #am i projecting #yes yes I am #vanthiyathevan #ajith #tabu

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thirst4light · 10 months

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In Memoriam

This is my first try at Vanmozhi Fanfiction. Inspired from the PS 2 movie scene. Planning to do a two part follow-up of this prologue. Let me know what you think!

Prologue

'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.’ (In Memoriam A. H. H., 27.13-17)

The sky of Thanjavur was strangely grey on a Vaikasi afternoon as the people waited for their beloved crown prince, Aditha Karikalan, to come home.

Only this time, there was no line of excited girls, wearing their best sarees, chattering away with their aarti thali on the steps of majestic Thanjavur fort, waiting to catch a glimpse of their handsome prince.

Instead, a grief-stricken royal family waited patiently. Chakrvarthi and the young prince, Ponniyin Selvan were waiting at the front, while the women of the royal family waited behind.

Slightly behind the royal family, Kodombalur Ilavarasi Vanathi was also waiting along with other royal women, looking over the sea of the people that gathered at the outer court of the fort. Since last night, as the news of the prince’s death spread, people kept coming from all corners of the Cholanadu.

While Vanathi waited, she thought of everything and nothing.

Such a contrast, Vanathi reflected, looking at the grey sky briefly before her gaze settled on the royal family who were clad in pristine white, a decorum when someone in the family passes away.

As if even the sky was mourning along with this family.

Vanathi’s thoughts got interrupted as people’s clamour suddenly increased, making her focus at the entry gate of the fort.

Finally, Aditha Karikalan had arrived in Thanjavur.

In the city where he grew up. In the city where he belongs.

A long procession of regiment came by foot, closely followed by the prince's beloved horse regiment, waving the chola flag.

From where she was standing, Vanathi could see the chariot carrying the prince’s body from a distance, closely flanked by his trusted fighting companions, Manamalyan, Parthibendran and Vanthiyadevan; not leaving their beloved prince’s side, even in death.

As the chariot slowly moved across the crowd, Vanathi could hear muffled cries while some people started to shower flower petals at the chariot, a sign of their last respect to their Ilavarase. A section of the crowd even started to tussle with the guards to touch the chariot and pray.

It took a long time for the guards to clear the way for the chariot to cross the short distance of the entry gate to the steps of the fort.

When the chariot carrying the prince's body finally stopped in front of the fort stairs, there was a momentary pause among the royal family members.

As if they could not believe what they were seeing.

The ailing Chakravarty was the first to break down as he could not support his weight anymore. Ponniyin Selvan gripped his father tightly, making sure his father could come down the stairs to meet his beloved elder son.

Raṇi varataṭcaṇai Sembiyan Mahadevi, Rani Vanavan Mahadevi, Iliya Piratti slowly started to walk behind the Chakravarty to meet their nephew, son and brother, Aditha Karikalan, one last time. Vanathi followed them as well, her steps heavy with grief.

As everyone in the family huddled at the front of the chariot and tried to caress the beloved prince’s face, the cries of the Chakravarti and Rani were the most heart-breaking. Vanathi, who was standing at the end of the chariot, could not take it anymore. She bowed her head, closed her eyes to drown out the sound of cries and desperately put her hands together in prayer.

Ishvara, may the Ilavarase join you in heaven. And…And give my beloved royal family and the people of Cholanadu the strength to overcome this difficult time.

Vanathi stayed still for a few minutes, hoping the cries had subdued. As she opened her eyes, she knew that her attempt at focusing on praying was futile.

But she had to try.

In desperation, her eyes searched for the only face that could give her strength at this moment.

As her eyes landed on Ponniyin Selvan’s face, Vanathi realized, despite being such a pillar of strength to his father, the young prince could not hold himself together anymore.

His face contorted with unspeakable grief; tears were streaming down his eyes continuously.

Vanathi had endured loss in various forms from a very young age. Her mother’s death, even though she had never met her, had left a deep wound in her childhood. Then her father’s death at Ilankai war, leaving her as an orphan in this cruel world. Then bidding farewell to her only father like figure uncle Periya Velar before every war, not knowing whether he would return alive from them was always tantamount to loss for her….Yet, no pain of these losses compared to the pain of seeing her beloved Ponniyin Selvan grieving at this moment.

Until this point, Vanathi did not realize that she had been crying along with everyone else. But seeing her Ponniyin Selvan break down like this, fresh tears blocked her vision completely. Her heart felt so heavy that for a moment she felt like she could not breathe anymore.

Wiping her tears with pallu, Vanathi took a few deep breaths to calm herself.

As the guards started to move to take the chariot away for cremation, on a whim, Vanathi decided to come at the front of the chariot and touch Ilavarase Aditha Karikalan’s feet, seeking blessings.

An opportunity she never had before.

While she looked at the crown prince’s resting face one last time, Vanathi realized, in death, Aditha Karikalan had finally found his peace.

The peace that he had been searching for a long time.

Tagging my enablers who I have on my profile: @harinishivaa @nspwriteups @balladedutempsjadis @celestesinsight @thelekhikawrites @reeeereeeereeereee @whippersnappersbookworm @sambaridli

Feel free to tag others/reblog if you like :)

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thereader-radhika · 9 months

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2- Friends and Foes from the Beyond

Part 1

Nandini shivered as the rain came pounding down. Thirumalai says that she feels colder these days because she lost too much weight. She tied a piece of cloth over her thin grey hair fashioned into a small bun. When she was younger and the hair was thicker, it used to stay tight for a long time.

"Aazhi mazhai kanna . . . ", she hummed as she covered herself with the thick blanket given by Annan and lied down on the mat. Since the day his gurunathan handed her over to him, she hasn't let him know peace or rest. Even in this old age, he dutifully visited her at least thrice every year.

"Do you need heat, kanmani?"

She woke up with a start and looked around frantically searching for the source of that sound. Which devil has come to torture her today? It seems like father-in-law and son-in-law have come together today. Weren't Pandyas the sworn enemies of Pazhuvettaraiyar? How could they become such thick friends in death?

"Our darling is confused."

"My little girl isn't confused. This smart girl killed him and avenged poor old me." Veera Pandyan's severed head laughed from Periya Pazhuvettaraiyar's lap. "No, I didn't kill . . . ", Nandini groaned. The events of that cursed night replayed in her mind.

"Hoy! Hoy! Veera Pandyan thalai konda Koparakesari stabbed himself. You are such a misfortune".

"But he too didn't get her maama", Periya Pazhuvettaraiyar tickled Veera Pandyan's cheeks and he laughed even louder.

"I will only blame you. You clothed her in the finest silk and gold, endured all mockery while this yakshi was observing fasts and austerities for that upstart".

"That isn't true. She touched my arms a few times".

"Chi! Are you a man? I was with her mother only for a few days but I shot two birds with one stone", Veera Pandyan's head winked. Nandini felt like vomiting but her body was unable to move. Someone caressed her hair and wiped her tears. Amma! She buried her head into her lap and cried bitterly.

"How many men have these women claimed to be their lovers? Pathetic maamiyar, her hopes were shattered when Sundara Cholan's veera-patni entered the pyre with her husband. That's our Chola women for you". Pazhuvettaraiyar's boasting turned to screams as Veera Pandyan's furious head bit his hands.

"Don't you hear this, you whore? I am so embarassed to admit that you are my daughter too".

"Sorry maama. I have spoken in anger."

"Don't worry. I will teach you to tame unruly women".

"Thanks. I will try it on her in our next birth".

Nandini's blood boiled as she listened to this exchange. She only hoped to console the old man after using him for years but he haunts her with her own words. "Get lost, you old perverts. I will never be yours".

"Old? Have you seen yourself, moothevi? Do you think your komagan will look twice at you? Even your mother looks younger than you. How lovely of them to send my mohini to me!"

Veera Pandyan's headless body approached Mandakini as the head jeered at Nandini from Pazhuvettaraiyar's lap. She dropped Nandini's head on the hard floor and dashed into the rain as the mutilated body followed her with outstretched arms. Nandini massaged her temples. Isn't there an end to this? Earlier, it was Veera Pandyan alone. After that fateful night, more apparitions started to torture her.

Where is he?

Why hasn't he come today? Is it because she looks old and ugly now? Perhaps he doesn't want her anymore.

"You know that isn't true", Aditha Karikalan chuckled from the other side of her mat. She tried to hug him but her arms passed through his form. She got as close as she could get and stared into those lovely brown eyes.

"Do they bother you . . . there?"

"No. Don't you know that we have our own place? For us."

"Ummmm"

"There are a lot of flowers. You can make as many garlands as you want and I will adorn your neck with all of them".

"Can we take my Amma too? She doesn't have anyone else."

"Yes, but she won't come alone".

"I am coming. I just want to meet Ponniyin Selvan once, just once, and tell him everything. After that I won't linger. I can't wait."

His form dissolved into thin air before her eyes but she heard his whisper, "Neither can I".

Parts 3, 4

@favcolourrvibgior @willkatfanfromasia @sowlspace @sampigehoovu @sakhiiii @ambidextrousarcher @harinishivaa @celestesinsight

#ponniyin selvan #ponniyin selvan 2 #nandini #nandhini #aditha karikalan #aditya karikalan #nanditha #nandini x karikalan #nandini x aditha #arulmozhi #kundavai #vanthiyathevan #vanthiyadevan #vallavaraiyan vandiyadevan

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dr-scribbler · 7 months

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Wanna be Yours - PS

Volume up 🔊

Vanthiyadevan - Kundhavai

He doesn't have a kingdom

She saw her home in him

Arunmozhi - Vaanathi

He is not the crown prince

She saw nothing but King in him

Aditha - Nandhini

He is ready to die for her

She saw her vengeance in him

@whippersnappersbookworm @harinishivaa @thelekhikawrites @willkatfanfromasia @yehshuhua @arachneofthoughts @vibishalakshman @nspwriteups @thirst4light @hollogramhallucination @celestesinsight @curiousgalacticsoul @themorguepoet

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writingrightendings · 1 year

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This is now COMPLETE! Aaah I'm so happy and also mentally ready for PS-2 now as it comes out in April. In case they don't treat my Poonguzhali well, I have this to fall back on. 😁

My only quibble with Kalki’s masterpiece was that I longed for a happy ending for Arulmozhi Varman and Poonguzhali. This is a story for those like me, that rewrites certain events from Book Three, Chapter 42, onwards to explore what Arulmozhi Varman’s attraction to Poonguzhali and the latter’s devotion to the Prince could have led to.... SANGAMAM on AO3

#poonguzhali #samudra kumari #ponniyin selvan #ps 1 #ps 2 #vandiyadevan #vanthiyathevan #vanathi #kundavai #kalki krishnamurthy #kalki #read on ao3 #fix it of sorts #Ponniyin Selvan x Samudra Kumari #arulmozhi #Arulmozhi x Poonguzhali

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philtstone · 9 months

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more ponniyin selvan + text posts for @foolgobi65

#once again in my useless meme era #ponniyin selvan #i needed better text posts for poonguzhali and vanathi and arunmozhi tbh #the greatest bangers are always aditha and nandini. bc they are the craziest and thus the funniest #text post meme #aditha karikalan #vandiyadevan #arunmozhi varman #poonguzhali #kundavai #nandini #aditha x nandini #also SEMBANNNN! my beloved bastard horse.

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philtstone · 10 months

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Kundavai Nandini bitch

whos ready for another round of perfectly stupid barely plot-coherent modern road trip fix it au. please dont take this seriously, as i didnt. this verse probably would have worked more smoothly if i wrote it in chronological order but instead. i didn't do that. thanks 2 maya for helping me decide the funniest option at every juncture. a sequel to this fic, if you're interested enjoy

“It’s just, legally speaking, this looks quite a lot like a kidnapping.”

“Oh, please. Legally. This is a family matter.”

“Which, I feel obliged to point out, has resulted in kidnapping.”

“Hm,” says Aditha, rubbing at his chin and looking down.

“I guess I could see your point of view, Nambi,” allows Vandiyadevan, tilting his head such that his floppy brimmed disguise hat sits at a jaunty angle. He takes another bite from the open aluminum package of Magic Masala Lays. “We’ve got him in a van and everything.”

“Thank you,” says the older man proudly. “It is not often you concede my point.”

“My van is a very nice van,” says Poonguzhali at the same time, sounding somewhat aggrieved.

The young fellow in the trunk of Poonghuzai’s van continues to sit slumped, and unconscious. They observe his slicked back hair, thick with pomade, and his rather inadvisable moustache.

“How hard did we hit him on the head, anyway? Poor guy looks like he won’t wake up for a while.”

Nambi makes a faintly regretful face, eyeing his thick walking stick and rubbing his ample belly.

“It is not my fault God has made me so strong,” he says.

“Be real,” says Vandiyadevan, who must begrudgingly acknowledge that it wasn’t a terrible decision to call up Nambi, after all. “You’re not even the one who knocked him.”

They turn to the willowy figure who stands proudly to the side with her hands clasped tight around Nambi’s co-opted walking stick. Her long silver hair flutters, unbraided and somewhat naiadic, around her face. Her feet are bare, despite the fact that they are standing on paved sidewalk behind a very large and shiny building. She is wearing four bead bracelets on one wrist – there had not been time to distribute them before enacting The Intervention. Mandakini smiles sweetly at them. The lines around her overlarge eyes crease and dance. The head of their kidnapped man lolls downwards a bit.

Aditha returns her smile, awkward but encouraging; Vandiyadevan rubs with consternation at the back of his own neck.

“Madhurantakan will be fine,” Arunmozhi, who has been deep in contemplation (or maybe just a little stunned) til now, decides firmly. “The pomade will have eased the blow. You know what I’ll do? I’ll fetch one of Vanathi’s juice boxes so he’s got something to wake up to.”

He speaks with such authority that the others cannot help but feel comforted. Vandiyadevan says,

“It’s a good thing Arunmozhi lugs all those juice boxes around for her, isn’t it,” as his friend indeed goes to fetch the refreshment in question, “Madhurantakan doesn’t even have diabetes.”

“Only that terrible moustache,” Poonguzhali agrees.

“And to think,” sighs Nambi, “when we set out this morning, it was to pimp out our friend Vandiyadevan for the greater good. Truly, Lord Vishnu works great mysteries.”

“I wonder how the girls are doing,” Poonguzhali says pointedly, as, while Aditha groans, Vandiyadevan pours the remainder of the chip bag upon Nambi’s head.

It was, in matter of fact, quite early in the morning when the collective began arguing over Vandiyadevan’s virtue. At this point in the day, they had not yet kidnapped anyone.

“It won’t be difficult,” Nandini is saying, with a serene, if perhaps calculated, shrug. “I do it all the time. I have about twelve on rotation just now.”

She is sitting perched, even lounging, against the cramped fabric upholstery of the van’s leftmost window seat, as if it was the chaise of an ancient royal mistress. Vandiyadevan is a clever enough man; he can see where Nandini is going with this. After two weeks on the road, and the transformative power of meeting one’s mother, even the most vindictive of lonely people – Vandiyadevan opines, with great and compassionate wisdom – can thaw out a good deal. He was there (well, trapped in the toilet and unable to emerge lest he ruin the moment) to overhear the quiet tears of relief which Nandini shed against Aditha’s shoulder four nights ago, after everyone else was asleep. Neither of them seem inclined to even remotely acknowledge it in the light of day, but that’s none of Vandiyadevan’s business. What is his business is that Nandini has just declared she will save Chola Incorporated by seducing the siblings’ idiot cousin, and by God, Vandiyadevan can’t say it’s not sort of a good idea.

At the moment, though, he’s quite hungry, and so his nimble intellect is more focused on the possibility of a packet of Blue Lays, which he thinks might be in the glove compartment of the P Investigator, Lady Detective van – just in front of him. It could be his, if only he could get past Poonguzhali’s sharp looks. She is giving quite a few of them today – when she isn’t looking fondly at Arunmozhi, that is. Vandiyadevan sighs. Yes yes, it is her van of course, and therefore her chips, but seeing as they are a reconciled team now, very deep into their quest …

“And they really don’t mind that you never follow up on your promises?”

Vanathi, Kundavai’s sweetly bespectacled personal assistant, asks this in a tremulous voice. She, too, has been looking fondly at Arunmozhi all afternoon, though perhaps more secretively. If you could call her enormous doe-eyes secretive. Vandiyadevan would think it all very silly, but then, Arunmozhi does inspire the fondest of looks on a day to day basis, even when he’s wearing that bucket hat his older sister dislikes so. He’s just that kind of fellow. In answer to Vanathi, Nandini holds out her phone, with the contacts page open, to illustrate her long roster of – rather happily, it seems – strung-along men. They all lean in as one, jostling one another in the cramped confines of the van’s interior, to peruse properly.

“CEO … tech billionaire … Rajinikant?”

“The superstar?”

“Thalaiva?”

Nandini wrinkles her nose, shrugging, and wags one delicate hand back and forth so-so; someone squawks loudly and happily (it must be Poonguzhali), which is a sound loud enough to cover the small pathetic choking noise that seems to come from Aditha’s general direction.

“He’s the one who looks like our treacherous uncle, isn’t he.”

“You just think that because they are both old.”

“God, he is so bald. Uncle has his hair, at least.”

“Tatta thinks that it is a toupee. He told me so two months ago, at the poetry reading.”

“Hey, be quiet a moment – someone give Aditha a juice box, he looks ill. Is that a sandwich shop owner in there?”

Vanathi had been the helpful soul who wired the crores necessary to Arunmozhi in Thanjai when they needed to bail their previously missing person — Nandini’s long lost mother and Arunmozhi’s enigmatic friend — out of jail. She reads aloud the contact name: “Arjina’s Super Sandwich Speedy Fast N Go”

“I get hungry sometimes,” Nandini says, twirling one lock of glossy raven hair around her finger. Vanathi rubs at her forehead, adjusts her spectacles twice, and shakes her head a little, allowing,

“It must be very nice to have easy access to a good sandwich whenever you like.”

Poonguzhali is by this point wheezing with glee; Vandiyadevan wonders if she is still thinking of Thalaiva’s terribly bald head. Does Nandini’s effortless ruse involve assuring him that it is not, in fact, so hairless?

“Oooh,” snaps Kundavai. Nandini’s chin lifts upward immediately, “Vanathi, we must aspire to be strong and resourceful women. You can make your own sandwiches, can’t you?”

Kundavai began this conference looking as if she may finally be willing to admit she and Nandini’s forced cohabitation of dumpish motel room had not been the end of the world. She looks now as if she has sucked upon a particularly bitter lemon. Vandiyadevan takes a moment to appreciate, absently, the particular radiance with which the corners of her mouth pinch and pucker in judgmental annoyance. Then he remembers between whom he’s sitting, and pulls himself together. Arunmozhi is nodding with philosophical curiosity and pausing every few minutes to sign the newest developments in their consultation to Mandakini, who is sitting in the backseat, making bead bracelets with the craft materials she discovered in Aditha’s messenger bag. Aditha (who, it might be noted, possesses quite an impressive head of hair) does indeed look like he is going to be sick. He does not seem to want to give this fact away, and so persistently looks at the ceiling of the van, and when asked about it, claims in a strained voice that he has spotted a small lizard, which they must immediately expel from the vehicle. No one quite buys this, but no one feels the need to expose him either.

Vanathi must crane her slender neck somewhat painfully so as to properly peruse the details of Nandini’s phone messages. They really are diverting; the girl’s rose coloured lips part in a soft and open oh of morbid curiosity, her luminous brown eyes the size of saucers. One of the text strings promises a Benz sometime in the next week. The other is paying for Nandini’s apartment.

“Isn’t that something,” hums Arunmozhi, with pleasant fascination. Vandiyadevan would be inclined agree if Poonguzhali were not looking so impressed.

“Isn’t it though,” says Poonguzhali, before the gratified Nandini can reply. “Twelve! I can only scam three men at a time. That’s brilliant, that is.”

“That is not brilliant,” Kundavai disagrees. If Vandiyadevan were not so hungry he’d be able to hear her blood pressure rising, just by listening hard enough. Ah, to bask in the lovely tones of her irritated voice … “It’s not anything. We are not going to stop a few buffoons from usurping our family business via seduction.”

Arunmozhi has been very good at keeping them all working together so far, but he makes a slight error in judgment here (Vandiyadevan privately thinks), by taking a quiet breath and starting, gently to his credit, “Akka, just because you are not skilled at a particular art …”

Kundavai shrills with immediacy.

“Ayyo! How could you say that? It is not a matter of skill, it is a matter of principle! We are not seducing our cousin!”

Ah, yes. At this point in the day, they had not yet put their considerable minds together and determined to distract an Uncle or two; the first idea on the table, given that it was Madhurantakan they needed to waylay on his way to the Very Important Board Meeting, was cousin-seduction.

Aditha, who had been focused on the imaginary lizard’s affairs until this interval, seizes his opportunity.

“We are not seducing our cousin,” he clarifies in gritted, authoritative tones. Which is impressive, given that the contents of Nandini’s contacts app seemed to any rational observer to have had temporarily rendered him mute a moment before.

“No,” says Kundavai, in a manner so uniquely bitchy that only Nandini could have inspired it (Vandiyadevan thinks this with affection and no small amount of dreamy internal sighing), “clearly we are not.”

“Mmm,” is all Nandini offers, tilting her head just so.

“Surely there is an alternative, indeed clever solution –”

“Yes,” Aditha barrels forward, rather bravely Vandiyadevan thinks, as if neither girl has spoken, “Nandini may do what she wants, of course —“ (there is a tremendous strain to his voice; Kundavai, who had eagerly looked over at the sound of her brother agreeing with her, rolls her eyes with relish) “But how do we know — really — that Madhurantakan is into women? I think Vandiyadevan should go.”

There’s a prolonged moment of silence. Vandiyadevan hears a small crunch beside him, and realizes to his horror that Poonguzhali has snuck out the Magic Masala Lays.

“Eh!” he whispers. It seems for some reason appropriate to whisper. “You sneaky little imp! Share those, why don’t you?”

This unexpected turn of events was clearly not the solidarity Kundavai had in mind.

“You want to pimp out Vandiyadevan?” she hisses, horrified.

Even Nandini is displeased by this. “I am more than capable of doing this myself!” she says, irritably. “Just because you are jealous –”

“I am not jealous!” Aditha yells, in the voice of a man very clearly jealous. Nandini has turned pink to match her sari. It really is sort of funny, how swiftly her own efforts turn against her.

“Well – let’s lay out all the possibilities, here,” inserts Arunmozhi, helpfully. With his free hand, he takes the bead bracelet Mandakini hands him – she must reach over Kundavai’s shoulder to do so – before starting on the next one. “If Nandini shouldn’t do it, and Vandiyadevan shouldn’t do it –”

Vandiyadevan, who is in the middle of wrestling with Poonguzhali for the chip bag, says, “Sure, I’m game,” without thinking. Kundavai turns a shade of pink to rival Nandini’s; he course corrects, with swiftness, “Or, I mean, well, it really depends – how do we know I’m his type?”

“Don’t be silly,” Aditha says, “you’re everyone’s type.”

“Absolutely not,” says Poonguzhali.

“Perhaps our clever Madame Detective –” starts Arunmozhi.

“Absolutely not!” says Poonguzhali.

Mandakini has started humming a girlish tune to herself. It sounds a little bit like the theme song to Robo.

“And as for alternate man –”

“It really is too bad he’s your cousin. Say, we could call Nambi …”

It’s here that Vandiyadevan decides they are in terribly dire straits.

“Who’s Nambi going to seduce?” he yells. “Forget him. Isn’t it Pazhuvettaryer who’s running the meeting, anyway? Someone go and seduce him!”

With a final flourish, he acquires the chips, squashing half of the bag to his chest with tragic finality. Nandini, Kundavai, Aditha, and Arunmozhi blink at each other, then him. Poonguzhali socks him in the shoulder (he just barely stops himself from exclaiming in pain). Mandakini holds out a second completed bead bracelet; this one has little sparkly charms hanging from it.

Nandini, whose face had grown to be just as pinched as Kundavai’s, softens immediately, and says, “Oh – thank you, Amma.”

She looks so tender taking the stupid thing from her mother that the collective ire deflates, little by little, until they are sitting in their cramped seats and back to square one: despairing about how to stop a bloody board meeting from happening. Vandiyadevan quietly crunches on a chip; Poonguzhali socks his arm again.

“If I may,” says Vanathi’s unassuming voice, piping into the chaotic silence before an ow can be uttered. “That is – I was only thinking. What if I went?”

Everyone gaps at her.

She refuses to meet Arunmozhi’s eye, staring instead – determinedly – at the little tiger charm Poonguzhali keeps hanging from her rearview mirror. There’s a quiet frown creasing Arunmozhi’s brow.

“Wh – what?” asks Nandini. For perhaps the first time since Vandiyadevan has met her, she looks truly speechless. Even when reuniting with her mother, she embodied a tragic sort of blubbering grace. Right now there is not a single sound coming forth, despite the fact that her mouth is open like a fish.

It matches Kundavai’s perfectly.

“Vanathi,” ventures Aditha, before his sister can say anything; this complete change of pace seems to have quelled some of his lizard-adjacent turmoil, and he speaks with a gruff gentleness that doesn’t quite match his unraveling ponytail. “... Where exactly do you mean to go?”

“Oh!” Vanathi shakes her head frantically. “No! I meant – what if I pretended to swoon in front of Pazhuvetteryar?”

Another round of blinking. “What?” says Nandini again.

Vanathi adjusts her spectacles a second time; her head-shaking has jostled them. “Chola Inc legal policy says that any medical emergency must be attended to by the person most immediately at hand. A-and … well, I’ve gotten a lot of practice in. At … you know.”

“Because of the diabetes,” says Vandiyadevan aloud, before he can stop himself.

Poonguzhali socks his arm a third time.

“Ow!”

Thankfully, no one really notices this exclamation, as everyone continues to stare at Vanathi in shock. Until,

“Vanathi,” says Arunmozhi finally, into the silence. He is sitting up straight, a look of complete wonder upon his handsome face; very different from the philosophical fascination of before. “That’s perfect. I think you might just be a genius.”

Of course, it is here that – flushing so pink as to rival both Nandini and Kundavai combined – the beaming Vanathi looks very close to fainting dead away.

Good thing they’ve got those juiceboxes on hand.

Until Madhurantakan needs them, anyway.

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thereader-radhika · 9 months

Text

3- Uncharacteristic Behaviours

Parts 1 , 2

It was midnight but it looked like morning due to the light of all lamps that were lit in and around the temple. Floral garlands of several colours decorated its walls and pillars. Cool breeze from the nearby river blew into the temple but the lamps miraculously stayed intact. Vallavarayan Vanthiyathevan gazed into the temple as he heard a sweet song.

Aazhi mazhai kanna! Onrum nee kai karavel Aazhiyul pukku mugarnndhu kodaarththeri Oozhimudalvan uruvam pol mei karuthu Paazhiyan tholudai Padmanabhan kaiyil ...

Some old women danced before the idol of Muraleedharan, holding flower garlands. Has he gotten so old that young beauties won't grace him even in his dreams? He closed his eyes and slowly massaged his aching neck. The women or the decorations were nowhere to be seen when he looked again.

A abstruse fear gripped his heart as he walked away, so he decided to go back. But a garland made of white lotus buds was floating against the current of the river. How is this possible? It stopped floating and sunk into the bottom of the river as Vanthiyathevan stood there transfixed. Then the dancers' prayers were answered and the rain drenched him.

No, it was his nephew, the crown prince, who poured a pot of water on him.

***********

". . . Ravikulamanikyam, Mummudi Chola devar, Kandhaloor Salai Kalamarutta Keralanthakan, Pandiya Kula Sani, Cholendrasimhan, Korajakesari, Tribhuvanachakravarti Konerinmaikondan Raja Raja-devar . . . "

Mama's and his titles were too announced as the royal entourage entered the captured palace. Appa squirmed as he heard the name 'Maduranthakar' again and again. Who asked paatti to name him after her runaway son? Young Maduranthakan still doubted if this was an elaborate prank they all pulled on him. How could a Pandya king grow up as the Chola emperor's son?

Appa asked mama to deal with the officials and ordered Madu not to disturb him unless it is an emergency before retiring to some chambers he claimed for himself. He pretended not to care but mama's nightmares have scared him too. Could this be a vision about impeding heavy rains and flooding? If it rains now, it will affect the movement of their reinforcements and supplies.

Madu entered his father's room and sat beside him. Why isn't he talking to the soldiers and commanders and cheering them up as usual? Is he upset about the the other Maduranthakan?

"Are you alright, appa?"

"I am. Give me a quick update on today's developments".

"Half of the aabathudavigal have escaped with the women and a prince who might lay claim to the throne. Velakkara padai met an old woman at the eastern boundary of the palace complex asking for 'Ponniyin Selvan'. People here really hate us but don't worry. Mama has written to athai to send reinforcements and supplies. I suggest a system of food - rationing until they calm down and more supplies arrive".

"Old woman?"

Maduranthakan was already regretting reporting it. It reminded him of the Singala Nachiyar who saved appa in his youth. Her story was so sad and unsettling. He stopped talking to girls after learning about her death. Hasn't Poonguzhali paatti too said that these girls have the bad habit of building castles in the air if handsome men treat them nicely? Though he isn't that handsome, what if they catch unnecessary feelings for him?

"Bring her here. No, it is impossible. I will order rationing until we secure our holdings. Don't mention a word to your mama. These aabathudavigal manage to do it every damn time".

What has come over his usually calm and composed appa? He might not be used to people turning against him but they will overcome this. Madu had no idea how to deal with this situation but what will the common soldiers think if their emperor is flustered like this?

"You are rambling, appa. Everything will be fine".

A strange expression appeared on appa's face. He looked naughty like the times when they used to sneak away from amma and athai and go on small adventures with mama.

"My son, it is the logistics and supplies that win wars. I have sent Aprameyan to take account of the food and grain reserves. Further orders will be issued on the basis of his report. You too assist him and learn to make such calculations. If I want any help from you, I will send for you".

If Maduranthakan had any doubts, they were quickly dispelled. Now he was sure that Appa is definitely up to some mischief. Does he expect him to make the list of rice and vegetables in the kitchen? He will show him!

‌Maduranthakan is the son of Vanathi and Arulmozhi. He would later take the name Rajendran. He is 14/15 years old in this fic.

‌Aprameyan is a general of Rajarajan.

Part 4

@willkatfanfromasia @sakhiiii @sampigehoovu @sambaridli @sowlspace @favcolourrvibgior @ambidextrousarcher

#ponniyin selvan #ponniyin selvan 2 #nandini #nandhini #nandini x karikalan #arulmozhi #aditya karikalan #aditha karikalan #vallavaraiyan vandiyadevan #vanthiyathevan #vanthiyadevan #maduranthakan #kundavai #nandini x aditha #rajendrachola #chola dynasty

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thereader-radhika · 9 months

Text

1- The Exile

And after he had walked a long way through the dark green forest, Thirumalai saw the little derelict hut standing near the guava trees. Though he couldn't see anyone in the vicinity, the two still-dripping, wet sarees spread over the clothesline gave him much-needed consolation. He slowly opened the door, which was only bolted from outside, and helped himself to some water from the earthen pot. He took the package of kozhukkattai from his bag and started to munch on it.

"Has pillaiyar started feasting on his modakam?"

He nearly dropped the kozhukkattai. Why does she have to sneak on him like this? Memories of happy old times made him feel even sadder. The woman standing before him looks quite different from the sister he brought up. In fact, she looks older and more deranged than the mute queen who used to wander in Lanka. Nandini placed a basket with tubers in one corner of the hut. She took one kozhukkattai from the banana leaf package and wrinkled her face as she took a bite.

"Eww, it tastes too sweet".

"That's because you don't eat any sweet food anymore."

"Hmmm . . . When will Arulmozhi be back?'

Thirumalai felt anger and curiosity simultaneously. Every time he walks all the way here, she has only this one thing to inquire about.

"Nandini, do you have any concern about this poor annan? Do you know that I turned 50 in the last Aippasi? Come with me. We can go to Haridwar and Mathura".

"Didn't you just visit Dwaraka with gurunathan? Take some rest, anna. As you said, you are getting old".

Thirumalai hesitated to say anything more. It was with great difficulty that he convinced her to settle down here. There are some small villages and even a Tirumal kovil in this area. He had tasked a woman with buying groceries for her, and she carried out the task happily for a few gold coins. He feared that she would run away if he offended her, and he wouldn't see her again.

"Will Arulmozhi visit Chola desam before the margazhi thiruvizha?"

Thirumalai sighed. He debated whether he should relay the happy or sad news to her. The trouble was that he didn't know what would be happy news for Nandini and what wouldn't be.

Chinna Pazhuvettaraiyar and Nandini weren't on good terms, but she has always respected him, perhaps grudgingly. Should she be informed that he has attained the lotus feet of his Parameswaran? Let her remain blissful in her ignorance. The other news was even more confusing. Ilaya Pirattiyar is adamant that Nandini always loved her husband and would have snatched him away if she had the opportunity. Maybe this will give her some happiness.

"My dear, something interesting is going to happen soon."

"Is Arulmozhi coming back for this?"

"Oh, not that. Do you think there aren't other people in Chola Desam? Arulmozhi, Arulmozhi, Arulmozhi... Listen to this. This is about Vanthiyar".

"Who?"

"Our friend Vallavarayan Vanthiyathevar, the Vanarkula-veeran".

Nandini gazed into the darkness absent mindedly and hummed. Thirumalai recognised her absent-mindedness and disinterest. She always did that when he spoke about things she wasn't interested in but didn't bother enough to stop him.

"He is getting married again. Perumal hasn't blessed them with a child yet. How long will he wait? Isn't he the last of his line?"

Nandini's face lit up, which confused Thirumalai even more. The last time she fell in love with a man, she dragged him from temple to temple, crying and singing pasurams. She has never asked him anything about Vallavarayan since he was exonerated of all charges. Is this the maturity that comes with age or is it because it is the misfortune of her sworn enemy, Ilaya Piratti?

"Ponniyin Selvar won't miss the wedding of his brother-in-law, will he?"

This girl!

"You know what? I concede defeat, and no, I don't think he will attend the wedding."

Thirumalai washed his hands and told Nandini that he was feeling tired and sleepy. Ponniyin Selvan rarely spent any time in the Chola country after the death of his parents. The people seemed to have calmed down after they realised that their favourite wouldn't get to rule anytime soon. Even his sister ilayapiratti has shifted her affections to her nephew. It looks like this obsession is the only inheritance Nandini received from her unfortunate mother.

Part 2 , 3 , 4

@favcolourrvibgior @willkatfanfromasia @celestesinsight @ambidextrousarcher @sakhiiii @sambaridli @whippersnappersbookworm @harinishivaa @sowlspace

#ponniyin selvan #ponniyin selvan 2 #nandini #nandhini #arulmozhi #arulmozhi varman #kundavai #vallavaraiyan vandiyadevan #vanthiyadevan #vanthiyathevan #kollywood #nanditha #nandini x karikalan #nandini x aditha #aditha karikalan #aditya karikalan

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thereader-radhika · 9 months

Text

4- Who Was She?

Parts 1 , 2 , 3

Arulmozhi Varman tried to think about the matters of current importance but his mind raced ahead of him. Is this a trick by the Pandya loyalists to get him alone? But they can't be that foolish to do this after killing Mandakiniamma right before his eyes.

It really stung when the panar sang that Rajarajadevar deprived the Pandyar of their world-renowned glory *. Was his uncle always this talented? If he was appreciated for his skills, would he have left even if he was a devakumaran? But he never belonged with them. Isn't that what they always told themselves?

Madu said it was a very old woman who was enquiring about him. But Nandini is barely older than akka. Has she come to avenge her twin? He looked like the ever young Markandeyan even when he attained the veeraswargam. He often remembered her these days after Vanthiyathevan opened up about his nightmares. Vanthiyathevan might not be the happy-go-lucky adventurer he once was but he is still Ponniyin Selvan.

***********

If her parents were in love, she would have been born and brought up a palace like this. "We wouldn't have met then", Karikalar whispered in her ears. "Wait", she admonished him playfully. How will she enter this huge palace and find Arulmozhi? Amma, how did you do it?

No, one soldier noticed her. If she lets him capture her, they might not want to disturb their emperor at night. What if this fever takes her before she can meet him? She will try after sometime when it gets darker. She tried to run away but the soldier was faster.

"Nandini, akka, please stay", his voice sounded familiar as he overtook her and stopped her by spreading his hands before her. Ponniyin Selvan. Hasn't she waited for this all these years? This is it! Tell him.

"How did you recognise me?"

"What is this? Let us go inside. Are you sick?"

"I didn't kill him".

"I already guessed. Calm down!".

"He offered to renounce everything for me. But this sinner had to tell him about the secret of my birth. That man . . . my amma . . . "

"We know about Veera Pandyan. Vanthiyathevan is also here. Don't you want to see my son?"

"I thought he would kill me and move on. But, but he he . . . ".

Why was she expecting him to move on? She could never move on without him in her life. But she will move on today. Nandini felt a bout of energy she hasn't experienced in years. She wiped her face and stood straight.

"Arulmozhi, sorry, arase, I have a request. When Thirumalai returns from your mission, give this to him", she forced a palm leaf on him. She had kept a similar olai in her hut and given one to her caretaker.

"Stop these formalities, akka. Can you walk? I will call for a bed or palanquin."

***********

Why is that soldier talking to her? Hasn't he ordered to arrest her immediately if she is spotted? Only Parameswaran knows if appa too is sneaking around in this darkness. Maduranthakan trained his eyes on the emaciated lady as they approached them. Suddenly the soldier turned around and untied his turban. Appa!

"Stand down, brave men. You two, bring Vallavarayar here". Two of them ran to mama's camp and others remained awkwardly in the kneeling position waiting for orders. That woman seemed to have slipped away when they distracted each other. Appa too noticed her absence.

"Rise and search for that lady".

The soldiers dispersed to four sides with torches in their hands. Is that a message from athai? The emperor scolded him as he tried to read the olai.

"Why are you standing here? Go and search. No, come here. Can you read this?"

He too found it difficult to read the olai in the dim light. It was full of mistakes. Can't people put some effort into their writing?

"Vasudeva married 16000 women. When the time came, they submerged into the Saraswati. Casting off their human bodies there and transforming into apsaras, they returned to him**. If you want to read Bharatam, there must be a good copy somewhere here".

Appa looked like he is in another world. The soldiers who were sent to summon mama returned.

"Chakravarthy, Vallavarayar isn't well. Senapati thinks he saw a woman in the river and he is going to take a look at the downstream. Should we stop him?"

What!

As mama followed by his bodyguards approached them, appa asked one of them to get down from the horse and rode with them. Madu ordered one of his men to bring a horse and another to keep the olai safely in his room. Who was she?

THE END

* deprived the Sēlinār(the Pandyas) of their splendour at the very time when their greatness, which was adored everywhere on earth, became conspicuous - From a meikeerthi of Rajaraja I

** ṣoḍaśastrīsahasrāṇi vāsudevaparigrahaḥ nyamajjanta sarasvatyāṃ kālena janamejaya tāścāpyapsaraso bhūtvā vāsudevamupāgaman - Swargarohana Parvam, Mahabharata

@sowlspace @willkatfanfromasia @favcolourrvibgior. @sakhiiii @sambaridli@celestesinsight @ambidextrousarcher

#ponniyin selvan #ponniyin selvan 2 #nandini #nandhini #nanditha #nandini x karikalan #nandini x aditha #arulmozhi varman #arulmozhi #vanthiyathevan #vallavaraiyan vandiyadevan #vanthiyadevan #chola dynasty #maduranthakan #kundavai #rajaraja chola

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philtstone · 11 months

Note

Arunmozhi & Nandini smile

after 2 months of being too mentally exhausted to write anything i produce this in 3 days .... sometimes i impress even myself if the words "modern road trip fix it au" make sense all together in a sentence, that's what this is. sorry 2 all the mutuals who have not watched six hours of convoluted 10th century south indian soap opera historical epic tragic romance adventure story. but also you should do that, so we can all adopt new and delightfully insane blorbos together. also: this is not meant to be serious. which means the geography is a mess. apologies in advance.

“… so what is it? Two rooms or three? I can’t keep asking this front desk idiot questions, his little head will explode from all the brain power needed to answer.”

Arunmozhi wishes he hadn’t misplaced his favourite bucket hat back in Kodaikkarai. The sun is hot and directly on his head, which makes it harder to focus on the dual task of listening to the person on the phone, and keeping track of the debacle that has developed by the Pazhaiyarai route gas station bathroom, the door of which Kundavai is still attempting to lecture through.

“Well,” he says. “You’ll have to give me a minute to think about it. Something of a situation has developed.”

He has known Poonguzhali for just long enough that he can tell by the sound of her breathing how she feels about something. Now, for example, it comes across as distinctly suspicious across the mobile connection.

“Why do I get the feeling this was an entirely predictable situation,” she says.

Arunmozhi admits this might be true, though not aloud.

“The rooms, Madam Detective.”

“Look, it’s either one room with two beds or two rooms with one bed each. Idiots! You’d think they’d have three rooms available! No one but us wants to stay in this dump, I bet. Only a man such as this one would think so highly of himself to presume he had clientele.”

There is the faint sound of an older male voice protesting over the line.

“Even we don’t want to stay in this dump,” says Arunmozhi pleasantly, at the same time Poonguzhali deems it fit to remind him in a declarative voice, “I’m a private investigator, you know, not a miracle worker!“

He’s waylaid in coming up with a fun and possibly clever response because Kundavai has reached such a point of despair in her lecturing that she turns away from the locked bathroom door, pins her flashing eyes on Arunmozhi, and says,

“Tell your idiot brother to unlock the bloody door!”

Arunmozhi grimaces. Aditha is only ever his idiot brother when circumstances are truly clownish. Most of the rest of the time Kundavai is content enough to claim ownership of the both of them, no matter how useless she thinks they are being.

“Here,” he mutters sheepishly into the phone. “Talk to Vandiyadevan for a moment, I’ve got to deal with something.”

He hands over the phone to Vandiyadevan before either party can protest.

Then he surveys The Situation.

They are at a gas station on the road to Thanjavur, one of those with nothing but the gas and a little snack stand and yellow dust masquerading as the road. There are clucking chickens in front of the snack stand, and also occupying the poorly-tiled bathroom roof. The flies are terrible. Arunmozhi arrived this morning, traveling North from South, via Poonghuzali’s van — he had met her fortuitously while exploring the coast, and thought they could only benefit from the assistance of a private investigator whose own aunt he was trying to locate — and with a motorcycle in tow. It is he who orchestrated the rendezvous. Kundavai had been up due North to fetch their eldest sibling, and is now here in her rental, acquired because driving Aditha’s sports car down towards Lanka would be the opposite of inconspicuous. The rental is already a filthy disaster. In theory this should help them in their incognito quest, but Arunmozhi is willing to acknowledge that what he had originally supposed would be a hiccupless development in the journey might instead be putting their multipurpose attempt to save the family business and uncover the truth wholly at risk. At this point, dirty rental cars are neither here nor there.

In the quest, at the very least, they are all united: understanding the truth about their entangled pasts seems somehow significant to thwarting the various family members now vying for a slice of the proverbial Chola Incorporated throne, to say nothing of the lurking specter of their father’s old political rival, who seems to be in dire enough financial straits that he has been setting up easily traceable Zoom meetings with Chola Inc secretaries who are bored enough to be looking for drama.

Considering the circumstances, Arunmozhi is comforted by the idea that they have discovered a capable ally. The problem is, it won’t amount to much if they never leave this gas station.

He strokes his beard a little, the way their father sometimes does, and once again wishes for his trusty bucket hat. It is, of course, very practical — this is what he tells Kundavai every time she protests it — but he also thinks it is a brilliant piece of fashion. He’d much rather look like the normal hip youths than dress up fancily in the stuffy attire of an ailing business mogul’s son.

The business in question currently being in the throes of potential jeopardy. And there is all this sticky secretive stuff of past love affairs. Arunmozhi is convinced it will all come together somehow, if only they probe a little. He has really made great strides, armed with his Regular University Student’s attire (the bucket hat) and canvas backpack, a simple nobody traveling around to find himself after finishing his degree. All one has to do is consider The Situation in front of them, to see the clear fruits of his labour.

But, ah: The Situation.

It is, he supposes, his fault. He sighs and refocuses.

The bathroom is more of an outhouse, really, with only one functional capability (its locking door), and it is within this vestibule that Aditha, about fifteen minutes ago now, had dramatically locked himself. In front of the bathroom door stands their brilliant sister, her perfect bun starting to undo and frizz, her expensive t-shirt (Kundavai cannot help but look expensive, even when she is trying very hard not to) developing sweaty stains under the armpits, and her aristocratic chin inching higher and higher in consternation. Behind her, naturally to Arunmozhi’s side, is Aditha’s old university friend — Arunmozhi’s current best friend — Vandiyadevan. He wears an old Vanar Men’s Cricket jersey and sandals, and is unsuccessfully ignoring Poonguzhali, who has started in her favorite pastime of bickering with him over the phone loudly enough that the sound carries. He’s wisely chosen to remain silent about The Situation so far; even with his clever tongue he’d surely only make things worse. In between swapping insults with their intrepid PI, Vandiyadevan keeps peering with concern at the bathroom door, fiddling with the tangled fake beard he had used to sneak into the Thenupuriswarar temple that morning (it is still adorning his handsome face), and gazing mournfully at the passing cars and buses, as if the necessary choice to leave his ornery Tata Nano behind when they crossed the river is truly haunting him.

And, in the middle of them all, perched against the seat of her motorcycle and with her arms very tightly crossed, is Nandini.

When Arunmozhi ran into her in the Periodicals section of that Sri Lankan library, desperately clutching the same fading birth announcements column he had been looking for, she had appeared – he’d thought, not uncharitably – in true mental distress. Things could not possibly be more different now.

Unlike Kundavai, Nandini remains perfectly coiffed after multiple hours of travel in the heat and dust. Her braid is sleek and glossy, her jewelry sparkles, the delicate material of her floral dress flutters genteelly in the nonexistent wind, and every manicured fingernail — now beginning to tap impatiently against her arm — displays nothing but absolute composure. She wears dainty gold bangles on her wrists and a thick oversized motorcycle jacket that must be sweltering in the heat, and has her luminous face turned lazily in the opposite direction as the outhouse. One of the chickens clucks at her feet, rooting around for worms.

Indeed, since they arrived, Nandini has been so very good at feigning indifference that even Arunmozhi could believe her utterly unaffected. It’s only now that, after a full fifteen minutes of locked bathroom door, he can see her expression become less and less dignified and — perhaps to the detriment of the collective — more and more irate.

Hm.

Arunmozhi knocks on the bathroom door with a bit more haste than originally planned.

“Go away!” comes the expected growl from within. “Won’t you let a man shit in peace?”

He has to hand it to his brother: it has the expected reaction. Kundavai puts her face into her hands and Nandini cracks just enough to roll her eyes before determinedly reverting to lofty silence. Vandiyadevan, of course, wisely smothers his snort of laughter behind a cough; he’s taken to holding the phone an arm’s length away from his ear, while Poonghuzali, true to form, has now started interrogating the motel owner about tax breaks on the other end of the line.

Diplomatically, Vandiyadevan says, “Well, if he really does just need a minute …”

“Please,” says Kundavai, “Please, come out of the toilet. For once in your life, be normal about this.”

“I’m being very normal,” says the voice of Aditha. “I am meditating on the mysteries of life. It will take me a while, so I will stay here for now, and then meet you all again in Thanjavur later.”

“You’re being a coward!” says Kundavai.

“Oof,” Vandiyadevan winces.

“Vandiyadevan,” says Kundavai, as close to pleading as she will ever get, “you talk to him. You’re good with words. Here, I’ll take the phone.”

Vandiyadevan, who as usual seems to lose some of his easy suavity whenever Kundavai turns the full force of her general presence on him, manages to say, “I got my degree in journalism, not politics. My charms only work on the ladies.”

This is more than enough to unite the warring factions of the group; Kundavai, Nandini, and the tinny mobile voice of Poonguzhali all scoff loudly and in harmony. Even Aditha seems to make a mild noise of amusement, though that could just as well have been the harangued motel owner on Poonguzhali’s end of the line, so muffled is the sound.

“Useless then. Aditha, I’ll knock down the door with our terrible rental car.”

“Don’t do that; you’ll owe the insurance man. Look here, Kundavai, didn’t your illustrious cards say anything about this?”

“I am not in the mood to be teased, Mr. Journalist. Your beard is melting, by the way.”

“Will it really be that bad if you came out, eh?” asks Vandiyadevan, concerned for both Kundavai’s nerves and his handy accessory. He frowns as Poonghuzali says something over the phone. “Oh — the lummox wants to know whether we’re planning on renting any rooms at all. Ayyo, no, I meant the desk clerk —!”

“She clearly has you all under her thrall,” interrupts Aditha, melodramatically from behind his door, cutting through the irate exclamations emitting from the phone. “You don’t know her like I do! I don’t care what anyone says. She’s lying.”

“She hasn’t said anything yet,” growls Kundavai, still with more dignity and poise than majority of the population might have on a good day. She tosses an acid look in Nandini’s direction. Nandini glares back coolly.

“It’s all part of her plan. She’s tricking us into complacence. Or have you forgotten that the person sitting on that bike is actually a – a – a –”

Aditha seems to have run out of words.

“She-snake?” offers Vandiyadevan tentatively.

“Poisonous witch,” recites Kundavai in a tired voice.

“Demoness,” remembers Arunmozhi, “oh, that was a good one.”

Nandini, whose indifference has since fully morphed into glaring daggers at Kundavai, pauses now to hum in contemplation, like a woman good naturedly unable to deny her many titles.

Kundavai, on the other hand, has reached her wits’ end.

“Four,” she says, turning to Arunmozhi and gesturing very specifically at her hairline. “Four grey hairs. Can you see them? One, two, three, four. Dearest little brother, I hope you considered my four grey hairs when you concocted this plan. This is really it. We’re going to be stuck in this gas station forever, and our pathetic cousin will take over the family business.” She raises her voice, “Do you hear that, Aditha! And then who’ll stop that scumbag Pandian from buying out all of his shares and blowing our family’s legacy trying to create God via chatbot? The bloody thing keeps advocating for users to kill enemies of the faith! And it’ll all be your doing!”

Oof – Arunmozhi is the one who thinks it this time. As far as accusations go, that one is a little harsh. After all, it was Kundavai who meddled enough for the maligned couple to break up in the first place. Sure, Aditha then went and exposed a measure of Veera Pandian’s scumminess to the press a year later, out of spite, on Nandini’s birthday, which blew up rather spectacularly in his face. But there’s no need to be rubbing even more salt in old wounds, thinks Arunmozhi.

Giving Kundavai a look which he hopes she takes to mean Relax, I got this, Arunmozhi steps forward and knocks a second time on the bathroom door.

“I told you, I won’t be lectured into participating in treason,” comes Aditha’s muffled voice, admittedly somewhat more cowed than before. “Against me, no less. Wow.”

“It’s not Kundavai,” says Arunmozhi, “it’s me.”

A long, rather mulish moment of silence follows. “Oh.”

“Yes,” says Arunmozhi, taking this to be an opening. “Won’t you unlock the door? Vandiyadevan’s disguise beard is melting in this heat. It would be a shame to have to hold a funeral for it.”

“I don’t have any other disguise beards on hand,” agrees Vandiyadevan helpfully. “I’d have to call Nambi up for one, and then I couldn’t show my face in the office for a week.”

Arunmozhi quite likes Nambi, though he’d never tell Vandiyadevan that — they work for rival newspapers — and now wonders if perhaps involving the older, nosier man at this juncture is the right call, as Nandini seems to soften wistfully in demeanour every time his name is brought up. Then again, maybe that will complicate things further, and instead of making her more agreeable, will result in another reaction hitherto unexpected. Unwisely perhaps, nobody really believed that Aditha would take one look at his ex-girlfriend, go white as a sheet, and promptly barricade himself behind the nearest locking door.

Who knows what Nandini might do with her own version of a curveball.

“I can’t believe this is your fault,” Aditha says finally, referring to Arunmozhi but sounding like he’s talking to himself. “Of course, she’d never be able to poison you. I’m just very hurt, you know.”

Kundavai throws up her hands into the sky. Vandiyadevan pinches the bridge of his nose in two fingers. Nandini, on the other hand, once more raises her eyebrows as though contemplatively conceding Aditha’s point.

Arunmozhi sighs.

“Yes,” he says. “There is that. I am sorry, Anna. Only, don’t you want to hear what she’s got to say?”

“No,” comes the finite response. Then, more despondently, “I don’t deserve it. She’ll never forgive me. I will go back to Kanchi and continue in the only honourable profession I’ve ever had.”

“For the hundredth time,” says Kundavai, breaking her silence. “Children’s camp counsellor is not a profession. Anyone can do arts and crafts and coach football. If you got your teaching degree, maybe.”

Privately, Arunmozhi thinks Aditha is uniquely good at facilitating the diligent creation of bead bracelets amongst 5 to 10 year olds. He also gets very competitive about football in a way that inspires excellence. Observing Kundavai’s twitching eyebrow, however, Arunmozhi chooses to keep these thoughts to himself.

“I already have a business degree!” says Aditha, from within the outhouse.

“Which you refuse to put to practice!”

“This is my one use in the world, Kundavai!”

Vandiyadevan and Poonguzhali have recently given up arguing over the motel, and the former now solemnly holds the phone out microphone first so that the illustrious investigator can listen in on the proceedings. Kundavai begins lecturing again. Even the chickens seem to be clucking with exasperation rather than neutrality. It is here that Arumozhi chooses to look at Nandini. While everyone else groans at the reminder of Aditha’s derailed career trajectory, on Nandini’s face there is a sudden and even startled expression of tenderness.

It must be terribly difficult, Arunmozhi thinks, to show up to what’s become one of the more chaotic family road trips in Tamil Nadu's history, clasp one’s hands together, and say, Well, you see, I’ve only just found out that my adoptive father is my real father and he is really quite a piece of work, factually speaking, even putting aside his God-bot delusions and general tax evasion, and the only way to find my mother, who has been alive this whole time, is with your help. But she seems fully committed to it all. It is very brave of her.

More importantly – resourceful as Nandini is, Arunmozhi has no doubts that she already knew about the children’s camp, and the arts and crafts, and most definitely the football. So that tender little look cannot have been one of pure surprise.

He smiles to himself. Maybe he wasn’t so misled in his instincts after all.

“Anna,” he tells the door quietly, in a tone he knows his brother – ever his protector, defender, and supporter, ready to take him seriously even when in the throes of his own early-life crisis – will catch. “I really think if we all work together on this, we have a shot at fixing many wrongs. I really am sorry for springing this on you. Both of you – you know.” When there is no response, he adds, “Look – maybe there will be a silver lining. You keep complaining that you haven’t had anyone to play a good match of chess with in a while.”

There is another prolonged moment of quiet; Arunmozhi imagines Aditha, the mass of his long hair tied out of his face as usual, proud profile turned towards the wall, his arms probably crossed in a close mirror of Nandini’s far more delicate posture. Nandini’s own expression remains stuck on whatever momentary ache passed through her, but now morphed into a complicated middle ground, unsure of whether she wishes to remain thawed or to remember the many wounds that led them to this somewhat silly juncture.

“Alright,” comes Aditha’s sudden, gruff voice.

Vandiyadevan’s mouth drops open. Kundavai freezes still as a statue in relief. Nandini, still astride the motorcycle, straightens imperceptibly; if Arunmozhi were really looking, a faint, almost imperceptible quiver of hope passes through her brows –

“But first,” Aditha continues, “I demand she return my stolen property.”

Oh, no, Arunmozhi thinks, a split second before, in front of their despairing and disbelieving eyes, some intangible stronghold of assumed dignity snaps within Nandini’s depths.

“Stolen property?” she shrieks. The chickens scatter, clucking for their lives. An innocent farmer filling up his truck’s tank ten feet away jumps violently and covers himself in gasoline. Nandini’s beautiful face has gone the colour of chalk. “Stolen property?!”

“Yes! It is mine, and you are wearing it!”

“You gifted me this jacket, you absolute jackass!”

“Well, I am ungifting it!” yells Aditha, through the door. “Give it back!”

“I’ll kill him!” Nandini howls, springing to her feet. Her eyes shimmer with a sort of impotent rage. It’s not quite clear who she is talking to – the collective, perhaps, or the divine, or even her own self – “Do you hear me?! Your death will be at my hands, Karikalan!”

“So do it then!” comes the equally theatrical roar from the outhouse’s depths. “FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED!”

“YOU JUST TRY TO TAKE MY JACKET BACK YOURSELF, YOU GUTLESS WORM –”

As everyone scrambles to prevent physical violence (Vandiyadevan has the wherewithal to yell for Poonghuzali-on-the-phone to go ahead and book the one room, as they’ll probably all be dead before the sun sets anyway), Arunmozhi reconsiders his intuition.

… Perhaps making this work will be a little bit harder than he thought.

Rubbing a hand over his overheated head, he steps into the fray.

#my writing #ponniyin selvan #arunmozhi varman #aditha karikalan #nandini #vandiyadevan #kundavai #poonghuzali #aditha x nandini #vandiyadevan x kundavai #i wanted to include some lines about vanathi but there simply was not a good opening :(#but we do stan an anxious constantly fainting queen

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writingrightendings · 1 year

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Poonguzhali X Arulmozhi

I think Kalki didn't know how much of a good thing he was creating with Poonguzhali's character and when he kicked off the Samudra Kumari x Ponniyin Selvan romance (specially in book 2!); and my grouse with the books is that they could easily have ended up together but they didn't (for historical accuracy).

So I've written out an alternate ending on ao3 for this couple I love (also featuring our favs Vandiyadevan and Sendhan Amudhan).

#ponniyin selvan #poonguzhali #arulmozhi #vanthiyathevan #vandiyadevan #kundavai #vanathi #ps 1 #kalki #kalki krishnamurthy #read on ao3 #fandom #fanfic #ps 2 #samudra kumari #Ponniyin Selvan x samudra Kumari #Arulmozhi x Poonguzhali

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sampigehoovu · 10 months

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thunder caught in his rain clouds

Kundavai x Vandiyadevan

Exploring how Kundavai and Vandiyadevan cope with Aditha's death even as their relationship blossoms. Lots of grief, some kissing.

Night had fallen quickly, as it seemed to do since the death of her older brother. Days were spent in frenzied tasks, moving from one to the next. Nights, she spent awake, unable to close her eyes for even a moment thinking of everything that had led to the death of her brother; the incarceration of Vandiyadevan, the actions of her brother and Manimegalai, which now seemed heroic in the presence of her silence.

Vandiyadevan, who had been ready for his punishment, who had said he should be punished because he had failed to protect Aditha, failed to carry out her orders. He truly believed, that despite his best attempts he had failed. Her heart ached, when she remembered his bloodied face and his defeated voice. He had looked at her once during the farce of a trial, eyes filled with unshed tears, apologetic, that he had not fulfilled his promise to her. She had longed to take the dagger tucked into her hip, cut his ties, and comfort him. Hold his hands in hers, tuck his head against her neck and offer words of comfort. Tell him it was not his fault. Tell him all the things she had wanted to tell herself about this entire ordeal.

She never got the chance to, they had rushed off to fight. He had turned back, to look at her once, before he got onto to his horse. His eyes intent on her face, she had attempted a small smile, encouraging she had hoped. Not anxious, or fearful or terrified. Send off her younger brother, send off Vandiyadevan, her grandfather, her uncles, all to war again, even before the funeral pyre of her older brother had cooled?

The first time she had sent off her older brother to war, they had both been so young that there was nothing but pride in their parting. He had returned. He had gone back to war. He had returned, hurt, and wounded in more ways than one, but he had come back to them. Aditha Karikalan, the powerful Chola tiger, there was no man in all their lands who could defeat her brother. She had not known, that it would be possible to lose him to his own broken heart. Death had been distant for her, unlike Vanathi, who had known of this particular grief for as long as she had been alive. Kundavai was struck with the fear of more loss.

What would she do if any one of them had not returned from war? Where would all the words, all the love and all the worry she had for all them go? Where would she put them, just like she had struggled every morning since Aditha’s death, thinking of all the things that had been left unsaid between them.

When they came back, she decided, not if they came back, she would tell her grandfather how much she admired him and how she hoped she would grow to have the same energy as him. She would tell the Periya Velar how his daughter had grown from a timid teenager into a courageous woman, who always had the right words at the tip of her tongue. She would tell her brother, that she was proud of him, that whatever decision he took she would stand by him. That her hopes and dreams for him were great, but it did not surpass her love for him.

She would tell Vandiyadevan, that she had been enamoured by him from the first time she saw him, that he had slowly wormed his way into her heart with his wit, his stories, his loyalty, his unruly curly hair that seemed to have a mind of its own, his powerful arms that she had been awestruck by when he had thrown his spear at that stuffed crocodile. That smile of his, which always seemed to come straight from his heart, she wished she could spend hours just staring him while he laughed and spoke. How distraught she had been when she heard of Kandhamaran’s accusations against him, her heart in her mouth as she had waited for news of him from Elangai. Despite having the most unshakable confidence in him, that he would return, with her brother in tow. He was after all, Aditha’s friend. When she had seen him, blindfolded, and yelling into the void, she had not told him of all the many things she felt for him, merely alluded to his promise of being hers. She would have to tell him, that she was as much a prisoner in his heart, as he was in hers. That she was the golden moon, reaching down to with all her might to touch the many arms of the mighty ocean. That she was the thunder caught in his rain clouds, loudly announcing to the world that she had found her home.

Even as all these words swirled around in Kundavai’s head, she lapsed into frenzied work, sharing administrative responsibilities with both the chief minister and the head of the fort, working from one of the balconies overlooking the entrance to Tanjai’s fort, waiting for the scraps of news that came from the front. Vanathi had waited with her, her silence a blessing to Kundavai’s fraught thoughts.

Just as they lit the many lamps on the balcony, a messenger on horseback had sped through the gates, everyone had rushed down to the entrance. Kundavai held onto Vanathi’s hand, squeezing it tight as they waited for the man to alight. Both Aniruddha Brahmarayar and Chinna Pazhuvettarayar waited with them, faces marred with worry. Pazhuvettarayar had one hand on his sword, as though waiting, to jump onto a horse and rush off to the battlefield, but he did not have to, “Victory is ours, we have had many casualties, the wounded are being treated at camp and the rest of the army has been reassigned to guard the borders. Malayamaan and Periya Velar are making their way back with Ponniyin Selvan as we speak, they should reach in a few hours, I was sent on a fast horse to deliver the news.”

Vanathi had squeezed Kundavai’s hand, sharing in her elation and the tension of her news, why had there been no news of Vallavaraiyan?

The chief minister had turned to Kundavai, “Ilaya Piratti, shall we start making preparations for their return?” What he had left unsaid was, “do what you always do, occupy yourself.”

Kundavai found her voice, “of course, will you be going to inform the Chakravarthy? I shall get the rest of the lamps in fort lit and gather the women at the entrance while the servants prepare quarters for all the returning members of the family. Vanathi, will you take care of that?” Vanathi nodded, her an encouraging smile on her face, “keep hope, akka, he will return to you,” she whispered as she walked away.

She would try. The rock that was in her chest had barely moved, despite the good news.

From where she stood, waiting with her parents, she could see her grandfather, his horse trotting next to Velar’s. They crossed the threshold of the fort, showered with flowers and shouts of joy, the moon was bright in the sky but the fort had been lit with enough lamps that it outshone the cool light of the moon. Kundavai held her breath, behind them was her younger brother, her only brother now, a small voice at the back of her head whispered, and next to him, smiling but bloodied was the man she had kept prisoner in her heart. He had seen her, his smile had widened and her face had broken out into one too, even before she had felt the relief that surged through her.

A cool breeze blew through the city, as Kundavai had sneaked into Vandiyadevan’s rooms, waiting for him to return from his dip in the river to wash off the grim and dust of the battle field. She stood waiting by the window, her head turning as she heard him open the door, there he was standing with his hair wet and curly from his bath, slightly shocked at seeing her in his rooms.

He rubbed his eyes as little, “I must be exhausted, I’m seeing things” he muttered.

Kundavai laughed, walking up to him and taking his hand in hers, “No, I’m really here.”

Vandiyadevan looked even more shocked, “But Devi, at this time of night, in my chambers? Has something happened? Are you alright? Let me just get my sword and armour…” he trailed off as she continued to smile at him.

“I wanted to talk to you…and to see you…properly,” she said, the last bit in a whisper.

Vandiyadevan looked down at her, her hair was in loose braid snaking its way down her neck and over her shoulder, wearing plain white skirts that he assumed she usually slept in, no jewellery except small ruby earrings and the shining diamonds of her nose pins. He took in a deep breath, taking her other hand in his, guiding her to the seat by the window, she clearly had a lot on her mind, if she had broken every rule and protocol.

They sat facing each other, Kundavai looking down at their hands, “I also wanted to apologise…”

“You have nothing to apologise for…”

“No, no, I do. I stood by silently as you were bound in chains and accused of killing my brother. I said nothing, even though I knew the truth,” she closed her eyes, hold on his hands harder as tears slipped down her cheeks

Vandiyadevan entwined their fingers, “Ilavarasi, I failed in my duty to protect your brother, and I was willing to face whatever punishment your father bestowed on me. I failed you too, I had promised that I would look after him,” his voice cracking with emotion.

Kundavai, “But I should not have asked that of you, when we both knew that Aditha was willingly walking to his death. We knew, when he left the vihara, that it would be last time we saw him alive. We knew, and yet I asked you for the impossible.”

He nodded, “It would be very uncharacteristic of you Devi, if you not tried to stop the inevitable. It would have been beyond me, to do the same.”

She raised their entwined hands to her lips, kissing his fingers, “Thank you. For being with him at the end. I am sure he would have been happy to have you by his side.”

Vandiyadevan’s head dropped, suddenly overwhelmed by everything that had happened, “I could not believe it, I had been hit on the head and for a while I had hoped I was hallucinating. I cannot help remember the times I saw him alive, dancing, fighting, laughing. It had barely been a few weeks into my training when I encountered him, dancing, with the soldiers at the camp. Pouring drinks into their cups, beating drums to the tune of new songs. He was the life of the encampment.”

“He encouraged my ideas, sometimes even the slightly mad ones. Trained me to fight better, he was proud of me, even when I felt like I had nothing to be proud of. All that nonsense I sprout about being from the Vanar clan, I had never said those things before Karikalan had put them into words. I should have done more to protect him.”

Kundavai released one of her hands from his, using it to wipe away the tears streaming down his face, “He did not want to be protected. He rarely ever spoke of how the years of battle had taken a toll on him. How taking Veera Pandyan’s life had been eating away at him for years. His love for Nandini, that had never ceased, that turned into this battle between the two of them. He never said a word, but I had hoped he would put his duty before anything else. I had hoped, that his duty would save him.”

Vandiyadevan sunk into the feeling of her hand against his cheek, when was the last time someone’s touch had comforted him. Kundavai continued, “But his duty was never a comfort to him, like it was for me. Until I saw you in those chains, I wish I had put it aside, and come to your aid.”

He opened his eyes, “What would have been the outcome, Ilavarasi? It would have erupted in more accusations at both you and Ponniyin Selvan. You doing your duty, did not do any harm to me. There would have been too many questions to answer, if you had spoken for me.”

“I would have answered them.”

“What would you have said?”

“That you had promised me your life, and it was my decision on how to punish you.”

Vandiyadevan smiled, “How would you punish me?”

Kundavai smiled back, “By making you promise to use my given name, I have longed to hear you say it for days now.”

Vandiyadevan turned his face into her hand, giving her softest kiss, “That is more of a reward than a punishment, Kundavai.”

Her breath hitched; a blush stole its way across her face making Vandiyadevan smile wider, before he noticed how tired she looked, “Have you been sleeping at all, Kundavai?”

She shook her head, “Sleep has been most elusive, every time I close my eyes, I can only think of Aditha. If I somehow fall asleep, there have been some very scary nightmares,” she did not elaborate on them, and he did not want to ask her to relive them either.

Vandiyadevan did something he had only ever dreamed of, he pulled the princess closer, tucking her into his chest and wrapping his arms around her. Kundavai, used to being folded into hugs by her friends, slipped into his arms easily, letting the warmth of his body seep into her skin, her nose against his neck, taking in the smell of the river and the turmeric applied on his wounds. She should have been startled, never having been so close to a man before, but she was tired, and it had been a long day. Before she knew it, the steady thump of his heartbeat had lulled her to sleep. He stretched his legs out, pulling her closer, feeling her breath against his neck, relishing in the fact that he had survived all of those battles, to be able to hold this woman against him.

It was a little before dawn when his consciousness resurfaced, the dewy breeze announcing the arrival of the sun, but that had not been why he had woken up. Kundavai had been shaking, shivering in his arms, muttering under her breath, another nightmare he thought, before sitting up.

The sudden movement threw Kundavai out of her nightmare, and she opened her eyes, looking into the brown depths of Vandiyadevan’s eyes. She tightened her arms around his neck, and buried her face into his neck again, groaning slightly when she realised that even his presence could not drive away her nightmares, “Why is it so difficult?”

Vandiyadevan ran a hand through her hair, his chin against her head, “I miss him, I miss him every day. I will continue to miss him for as long as I live, just as I do my parents. Grief is constant Ilavarasi; we will learn to live with it.” Kundavai hummed, “There is so much I have to tell him about, I didn’t even get the chance to tell him about you.”

“He knew, that I would meet you and forever be held prisoner.”

“Did he?”

“It was always, when you meet Kundavai, never if you meet Kundavai.”

Kundavai laughed, “Was my brother a better matchmaker than I am?”

“I think I’m better than the both of you,” he huffed.

Kundavai looked at him incredulously, “Who have you tried to bring together?”

“No one yet! But when I do, it will not take as long as it did the both of you!”

Before Kundavai could answer, a soft knock on the door startled her out of his arms and behind the curtain. Vandiyadevan had but a second to miss her warmth before he opened the door to find an amused Vanathi, holding a small lamp in her hands, “Could you please return my akka to me before dawn breaks, Kamsamama?”

Vandiyadevan opened the door wider, a bashful grin spreading across his face, “I can’t promise not to steal her away again, mayakannan.”

Kundavai emerged from her hiding spot, “I trust you will be staying for a while?”

“Ponniyin Selvan has me commanded to be by his side till the coronation, Ilavarasi.”

Her brown eyes, soft in the glow of the lamp, bright from both the prospect of having him around, and getting a few hours of rest, stared into his for a while before she broke the spell to smile at him, “Get some more rest, Devan.”

He watched the two princesses walk away, having only then realised that they had both not been wearing their customary anklets, or even bangles, the reluctant spy in him marvelled at their tricks.

Vanathi kept her silence until they reached her chambers, “Akka, the suspense is killing me!”

A small giggle escaped Kundavai, “I had a lot to say to him, but his presence was so calming that I think I fell asleep before I could even finish half a thought.”

Vanathi giggled too, “You have been very brave, akka. I am proud of you”

Both of them dissolved into a fit of laughter, their joy echoing through the silent walls of Tanjai Fort which had been deprived of their tinkling laughter for a very long time now.

Preparations for the coronation kept the two of them busy during the day, but Kundavai had found such comfort in sleeping in his arms that she found herself doing exactly that on most nights. Taking off her anklets, blowing out the lamps in her chambers and making her way to his. He would be waiting for her, arms wide open, offering comfort, sharing stories of Aditha. They had cried, laughed, and missed him together. They had started healing. Vandiyadevan took his time getting used to how their love was growing; his initial shock of suddenly having his arms full of Kundavai had faded in the face of comfort, kindness, warmth, and gentleness that they shared.

Vandiyadevan had dared dream of more, so had Kundavai. She had felt his hands running through her hair, sending little shocks of pleasure down her spine. Would he feel the same, if she ran her hands through his hair? It did not feel the same when her friends did. She had felt the soft touch of his lips on her hands, and she had wondered how it might feel elsewhere on her skin. Her chest had been pressed against his, she had marvelled at how different his body felt to hers. He was all muscles, scars and unruly smiles drowned in sunlight while she was bathed in moonlight.

As the dark blue inky night turned into a purple dawn, she had left a small kiss on the corner of his lips as he had slept. He had felt her soft coral lips throughout the chaos of the day, with Arulmozhi Varman placing the crown on Sendhan Amudhan’s head, Chinna Pazhuvettarayar’s disappearance in the midst of the chaos and Kundavai’s confusion and horror at her brother’s actions. He knew she would not come to him tonight, and he would have to leave tomorrow along with Thirumalai, he made his way to her instead.

She was sitting surrounded by a bunch of scrolls and olais, and turned to look at him as he climbed through her window, “I am so angry with you.”

“I was bound to secrecy! How could I betray Ponniyin Selvan’s trust,” his face open, eyes wide and pleading.

“You could have given me a small hint!”

“I tried to convince him that you would take his side, but he was adamant that no one should know. I am very sorry Ilavarasi.”

She sighed, irritated but resolved to move past her hurt, “Well, what is done is done.”

He sat in front of her, “I have to leave tomorrow.”

She looked up, “In search of Chinna Pazhuvettarayar?”

“Yes, the chief minister thinks it would be wise to send me instead of a large battalion.”

Kundavai had begun to put away her olais, he stood up, taking the bundle from her arms and placing it on the nearby shelf. She stood too, “You came to take your leave then?”

He walked back to her, stopping only when his hand wrapped around her waist and his toes in line with hers. She gasped, her hands holding his arms, her eyes wide. This was different, this was very different from all the nights she had spent sleeping in his arms. His hands, ran up her waist, slowing setting her skin on fire. Pulling her closer, he left a kiss on the corner of her lips. Just as she had done in the morning. But he did not stop, he continued to kiss his way down her neck, her shoulders, back to her collar bones and before she knew it, she had plunged her hands into hair, her mind going blank, her skin tingling. She pushed herself into him, closer. Why had they not done this before?

Vandiyadevan raised his head, his hand on the back of her neck, “The little flower of a kiss you gave me this morning has stayed with me all day. I’m going to kiss you properly now Kundavai, tell me to stop.”

She shook her head, eyes closed and raised herself onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. His hand around her neck kept her in place, as her entire being focused on where his body met hers. Her tongue tangled with his, her fingers in his hair, her chest pressed in his, his hands running up and down her back. Oh, she could do this forever, be held by him, to kiss him.

They had to come for breath though, she had meant to say something, which was lost when she felt his lips going down her neck again.

“Is this where you keep me prisoner, Ilavarasi?” he asked, stopping at the valley between her breasts, eyes looking up at her.

“Yes,” she let out in a huff

She felt him smile against her skin, continuing down to her waist, leaving kisses on every bit of her skin. She felt her knees buckle when he bit down where her waist chain usually sat, her nails sinking in his shoulders. He kissed he way back up to her lips, his forehead against hers as they took in deep breaths.

“Is this how you take your leave?” she asked, still pressed into him.

“This is how I will take your leave” he smirked, hands running down her back.

She kissed him, this time trying to commit to memory how he felt against her. Her hands against his warm skin, feeling the way his breath hitched when she kissed down his neck, the way her hips moved closer to his, when her hands wandered across the vast expanse of his shoulders, when she kissed his chest, asking him the same question he has asked.

His countenance was grim the next morning, the task ahead of him was not an easy one. But he turned back to look at Kundavai, as was to become habit as he went on his many adventures, and she smiled, the most encouraging smile she could muster. He smiled back, his eyes twinkling with the promise to return to her. She raised her hand to her chest, her palm fisting, holding him prisoner in her heart, entwining his soul to hers even as his body crossed oceans and cities that she would never see.

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Somehow this is a mix of movieverse and bookverse. I was wondering how it would feel for Kundavai to make a move without thinking of the many consequences of her actions, and pull a Vandiyadevan and say, to think is to act.

#Kundavai #vandiyadevan #vanthiyadevan #ponniyin selvan #ps ff #AM I PROJECTING YES #do i need them to kiss more yes yes i do

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