The Blow

This new law caused great distress to the old pudding-seller, Vanthi, who lived alone and had no male in her household to send to work. Too weak for spadework herself, she had no money either to pay the fine that would certainly descend on her when the king’s census-men did the rounds. She cried her old heart out to whom else, Shiva. Soon after, a likely lad turned up at her door and impudently hailed her as “Paati” (Granny). He promised to represent her if only she’d feed him pudding leftovers every day. Vanthi sent him off with a thankful blessing, but the likely lad made a perfect nuisance of himself at the bund, teasing, laughing and fooling about as though at a Pongal picnic by the river (a pleasant Madurai habit right down to the 20th century).

When the matter was reported to the king by the irritated men-in-charge, the Pandyan shrugged and said tersely, “Whip him”. Off went the chief bund-in-charge and found the young frolicker easily enough by the laughter around him. He brought his whip down smartly on the smooth brown back. Every living thing in the kingdom, every human being, animal, bird and plant yelled in pain with one voice. The king realised his error in persecuting a bhakta like Manicka-vachagar and freed the by now half-drowned saint.

We know there’s never enough to go around. But please ask the Meenavars who hijack Dalit relief supplies. Why did the Lord choose to appear as an outcaste labourer? Why did a blow received by him in that guise wound everyone?