Written by: dr-scribbler

Introduction

Tamil is a language spoken predominantly in South Asia; it is the official language of the Indian state of Tamilnadu, the sovereign nations of Sri Lanka and Singapore. It is one of the longest-surviving classical languages in the world.

The story below has been passed down for generations by Tamil people and is also viewed as one of the greatest plays of the God Shiva, who constantly tests his believers to show the world the meaning of life. Still, we have the poem below as part of our education, which is believed to have been written by Shiva.

The poem below is part of "Kurunthogai", which was written by Irayyanar and Shiva.

கொங்குதேர் வாழ்க்கை அஞ்சிறைத் தும்பி
காமம் செப்பாது கண்டது மொழிமோ
பயிலியது கெழீஇய நட்பின் மயிலியல்
செறியெயிற் றரிவை கூந்தலின்
நறியவும் உளவோ நீயறியும் பூவே

Translation: O! Honey bee with beautiful wings, you live drinking nectar from selected flowers; tell me without bias, look at my friend who resembles a peacock in beauty. Have you seen any flower that smells better than her hair?

Back Story

The tranquility of the evening brings in the joy of love and oneness as the jasmine flowers bloom, the birds fly off to their nest, and the sky starts to blush at the sight of the rising moon and two souls holding each other.

It's a beautiful evening in Madurai (one of the oldest living cities in the world), the capital of the Pandya Kingdom, where King Shenbaga Pandiyan and his queen Poonguzhali (pronounced as Poongulali) currently rest as they cuddle with each other to relish their love. As the wind blows, the scent of sandalwood spreads across the palace garden mixing with the jasmine flowers, creating an exotic evening for the couple and making them feel they are on their honeymoon.

One of the most powerful and valiant of them all, King Shenbaga Pandiyan, is slowly caressing his beloved's hair as he gazes at her beautiful fish-like eyes, much like their kingdom's symbol.

As the wind blows, the hair of the queen lying on her beloved king's chest flows, and the Pandiyan king's nose is hit by the most wonderful smell he has ever smelled. The scent is exotic and divine; suddenly, he becomes curious: how in the world does female hair smell this wonderful? Does female hair have the natural ability to smell this divine, or is it by using outside products?

'"What is my king thinking about?" the queen's question makes him leave his trance and look down at her.

"Well, even with all the flowers in the garden, nothing smells exotic like your hair? Does female hair have this naturally divine and exotic smell by birth?" Shenbaga Pandiyan asks curiously, which makes his wife chuckle at her husband.

"Of course not. The hair smells good only when you wear flowers and use external products to enhance it." The queen's answer makes the king even more curious.

"But you are not wearing any flowers in your hair now, then how is it smelling heavenly?" the king asks as he sits up and tries to get answers. The queen again chuckles and softly holds her beloved's face.

"My king, I don't have answers to your question; if you find them, then let me know," she says and laughs. Well, the king wants to do precisely that.

* * *

The Pandya Dynasty was one of the longest-ruling dynasties in India and one of the strongest kingdoms during those times. As they started as warriors and protected the kingdom, they greatly loved their language, Tamil, and literature.

Thus, they started a Sangam court, which was solely created to discuss poetry and literature, raise doubts, ask poets to clear those, and help them get recognised. This is the primary purpose of Tamil Sangam.

Shenbaga Pandiyan loved literature and Tamil so much that he often indulged with his head poets in the country and conducted a debate to improve and save the literature works for the years to come. One fine day, his head was filled with wanting to get his doubt cleared from the day before. As he was done with the political side of the work, he went to Sangam court to discuss the same with his poets to get the answers.

He then announced that the one to clear his doubt about female hair and its scent through the poem would be awarded a thousand gold coins. The news spread like wildfire, and many struggling poets, and even the wealthiest ones, fought to prove their worthiness by explaining, but King was not satisfied with anyone's poem, and thus, days rolled in with no answers.

Upon hearing this news, he couldn't contain his excitement; Dharumi, a poor poet who struggled to support his family financially, imagines 1000 gold coins and how it would help his situation and his family, how he can be debt-free.

But whatever he tried, he couldn't pen down the poem; for days, he wandered in the open, trying to get the poem done, but he just couldn't. So he ran until his feet carried him to the Meenakshi Temple, which is dedicated to the goddess Meenakshi, a form of Parvati, and her consort Sundareshwarar, a form of Lord Shiva.

He wanders inside the temple, complaining to God about how He is making him suffer and how he wants to win this so badly.

"Chokkanatha! Why are you making me suffer? Please help me!" His cries echoed in the temple walls and sounded desperate for the man trying to earn and get out of poverty.

Just as he was unaware of his surroundings and had just prayed to Shiva, suddenly his praying was disturbed by a calm yet strong voice calling him. With irritation, Dharumi looked behind to witness only a fine young man who looked well and wealthy.

Dharumi's eyes bulged as he took in the form of a young man standing before him with his costliest silk cloth draped around the man's body. How could someone afford this?

"Can I help you?" Dharumi asked, swallowing his slight jealousy and smiling at the man before him.

"Well, I want to ensure you are okay, as I heard your constant prayer to God about a poem," The delicate voice of a man spoke back to Dharumi.

"Oh well, yes, I am not good; I am trying to write a poem to solve the king's doubt, but it seems I am not that good a poet," Dharumi said, slumped back with depression.

"I could help you," the young Man said as he smiled softly at the struggling poet. This raised the questions in Dharumi on why he offered to help him and got suspicious.

"You are a poet?" He looked at him again and gasped at his wealth and stature.

"But why are you helping me? When can you write the poem and submit it to the king yourself? Unless you are not a good poet and want to test your skills with me as a scapegoat!" Dharumi shouted and shook his head.

This caused the young man to laugh at Dharumi. "Well, why don't you test me, then? If I pass, you can use my poem." This caused the poor poet to think, even if it wasn't ethical, he was not in the position to decline this offer; right now, the gold coins could save him and his family.

With that, Dharumi asked questions ranging from spirituality, devotion, literature, and life. For each question, he expected the young poet to scrabble and suffer to answer, but as he asked each one, the young man replied with both admiring and powerful answers, making Dharumi confident in the poet with that last question. Dharumi couldn't help but fall at the feet of the young, talented poet and beg for forgiveness for doubting him and his skill as he accepted the poem penned down by the man.

"Please, wait here. Once I get the prize money, I will bring it back here, and you can offer me whatever you like from that," Dharumi said with tearful eyes to the poet, but the young man just shook his head.

"I don't need anything; you can keep all the money, and this poem is yours. Now go and get your prize." With his words, Dharumi hurriedly went to the Tamil Sangam with excitement and a hint of nervousness.

At the Tamil Sangam

As Dharumi read the poem line by line, the king was happy that, finally, someone could clear his doubt. With happiness to the core, the king ordered Dharumi to be awarded the prize money, but only to be stopped by the head poet of the Tamil Sangam, 'Nakkeerar,' known to be a prominent poet of the country and to receive much praise for his literary works.

Since Nakkeerar stopped the king from awarding Dharumi, everyone wants to know why he is doing so.

"What happened, Nakkeerar! Why are you stopping this?" the king asked the head poet.

"As much as I am happy you got answers from this poem, I want to ensure that the right poem wins. The poem Dharumi read has a fault in it, and it shouldn't be awarded this," Nakkeerar said, causing Dharumi to look nervously at the king.

However, the king saw goodness in Dharumi and also greatly respected his head poet's decision.

Nakkeerar turned towards Dharumi and asked him to explain the poem, but since Dharumi didn't write, he shuttered and couldn't give a proper answer, which caused others to be disappointed.

Nakkeerar knew he was harsh, but his love for the Tamil language and respect for his king were more important to him.

"Poet, please go and correct your fault and come back with the change; we will then proceed to discuss it," Nakkeerar softly said. Dharumi, with shame, left the courtroom.

Back at the Temple

Dharumi returned to the temple to search for the poet who gave him the poem with slight anger and disappointment.

"I should've never accepted this! Now my name is spoiled!" He voiced his anger, called for the nameless poet, and cursed himself for not getting any info about him. The same poet appeared before him with a smile as he shouted.

"Well, did you get the prize?" the poet asked Dharumi excitedly, but Dharumi's anger rose.

"How would I! Your poem contains an error, and I got shamed cause of this," Dharumi vented, which caused the young poet anger.

"Error in my poem! Who said it!" The young poet's anger rose with each second. Dharumi got scared and explained what happened in the courtroom.

"Come with me," he said and went with Dharumi to the Sangam to get back at Nakkeerar.

Back At Tamil Sangam

As the angry young poet walked in, all the heads turned to the one who looked like a source of divine energy,

"Who is Nakkeerar? Who is the one who said that my poem contains an error?" The poet roared, which caused others to look at each other.

"Your Poem! Isn't it Dharumi who wrote it?!" Nakkeerar questioned with an eyebrow raised.

"It's none of your business. It's my poem, and I asked Dharumi to use it, and I don't need your permission for it," the young poet argued back, which caused Nakkeerar to chuckle.

"Well, yes, that is your business, but since the poem contains an error in the actual meaning, we couldn't proceed with the prize." Nakkeerar's words made the poet even angrier.

"What error are you pointing to? Tell me!" the young poet roared, and Nakkeerar nodded.

"Well, in your poem, you mentioned that the female hair is naturally scented, which is wrong. No female ever has natural scented hair; only by using products and wearing flowers does the hair get its scent," Nakkeerar explained, and the young poet shook his head.

"Really, no one has naturally scented hair?!" the young poet asked again.

"No one! Even the goddess Parvati, whom I pray to daily, doesn't have natural scented hair!" Nakkeerar roared back. This caused the catastrophe, and everyone in the council and the king stood up.

"How dare you! How dare you say those things! Do you say that I am wronged? Look at me properly and say that I was wronged!" The young poet, whose eyes are now red as rubies, appeared with the utmost anger.

As Nakkeerar looked at the young poet and examined his face, he noticed that the young man before him was not any ordinary one but Shiva.

"My Lord!" Nakkeerar closed his eyes as he processed what just happened. But then he opened his eyes and straightened himself. Even if it was God in front of him, even if he was the origin of all the knowledge in this world, a mistake was still a mistake.

"Even if you are my God! Even if you are the source of this universe. A mistake is a mistake; even with your third eye open, a mistake is a mistake!" Nakkeerar roared back.

"Nakkeeraa!" Fully transformed, Shiva roared while opening his third eye.

As Nakkeerar could not bear the scorching heat emanating from the divine eye, he jumped into the water of the Golden Lotus Tank nearby.

As the king witnessed, he fell on God's leg, begging for forgiveness and asking mercy to retrieve Nakkeerar.

As Shiva cooled down and smiled, asking the king to rise to his feet, the Lord took Nakkeerar out of the tank at the other poets' request. He forgave him, stating that even though Nakkeerar was so great, his arrogance towards others should not make him blind, unable to look into the state of one's suffering.

Shiva praised Nakkeerar for standing his ground and not backing down even when Nakkeerar knew he was Shiva himself, thus indicating the love for Tamil Nakkeerar have.

Witnessing this, the poor poet was in tears as God came down and helped him. The king finally offered Dharumi the thousand gold coins and made him one of the poets of the Sangam.