மன்மதன் (சிறுகதை) - Kamadevan - (Short Story)

Krishnan pulled the car over the shoulder.  Upon stepping out, he found the forenoon sunshine glare utterly blotted out his vision.  He could hardly notice the scattered gravels on the red soil driveaway. Pacing ahead, he caught the sight of a tall temple tower, only after cupping his hand over his eyes. Prolific plaster sculptures casting shadow over the sculptures carved beneath to their sole, constellating up till the evenly crowned Kalasam(*) structures, the high raised tower appeared like an unlit ramp. Devakottam(*) where mini stone statues depicting Lord Vishnu’s  various avatar with jutted out hands posed as if flying in the air. Black rock pigeons unevenly romped around the Devakottam.

Krishnan smoothing his shirt wrinkles  ventured towards the tall tower. It was an ancient temple. Renovation must have happened years ago. As with the other temples he had visited recently, the bottom of the towers sub-sinked into floor soil.  Held up under the pressure of countless human soles, the steps paved way to the towers, attriting further down from the road level, suggested only a little part of its original structure.   Visibly heavy steel chains and brass knockers loosely hinged on the entrance tower doors. Statues moulded, huge wooden doors were feebly attached to the wall steel structure, beginning to come apart in the middle.  Welcoming pushpa yakshi stone statue smudged with white lime remnants of afters betel flowers. A solitary brown eyed elderly man with beggars vessel, sitting over raised stone platform, legs dangling, munching some food lethargically, stared at him.

Temple was wide open. Krishnan thought the tower entrance of the temple could never be latched. It was possible to put a lock only to the main sanctum and some of the inner pavilions.  As with Southern madurai Pandiya temples, the galore stone statues were carved on the stone pillars of the entrance pavilions and the pavilion erected for springtime celebrations. Krishnan expected these pavilions to be opened and available for worshippers and visitors.  According to Shanmugam there should not be any carbed fences around these pavilions. Krishnan was hesitant to drop off his footwear, as he was sceptical about its presence when he returns back. He even thought of asking the elder beggar man to keep an eye on his foot wear. But decided against it.

Except the company of his own shadow pulled out in all possible direction , which  depicted convoluted dark designs on the stone floor, none were present inside the temple. Grasses, thorny bristle plants freshly sprouted out from the cracks of the stone tiled pavement looked verdant,  replenishing each drop of roaring rain occured couple of days ago. Pavilion’s pillars were too casting thick shades, appeared as though dense trees of a mini forest. Krishnan puttered in and around the  temple. He wondered, such a huge temple, yet no human soul. He thought for a minute and then concluded for good sake of this temple, let it remain as it was. Pigeon's cackling sounded as part of the the silence of the temple.

The colossal temple overawed him.  It must have spread across 8 acres of area. There were 3 other entrance  towers, selfsame copy of the one he entered through, dedicated as each for four directions. The temple was externally walled with square blocked black granite. Raised as high as four human height,  these surrounded walls appeared like orderly lined forefaces of elephants. Sricharnam(*) symbols daubed all over the other inner stone wall, which was erected symmetrical to the external stone walls. The floor gap between these two surrounded walls, filled with huddle of tortuous coconut trees and curlers of the coconut tree’s withered  leaves and sticks. Starting down the sidewalk, at each side, thick oleander shrubs and white orchid shrubs formed an eye pleasing garden. Next to gardens, there was a huge pond. Raised pillars of a stone pavilion, which encircled the pond, appeared as though palm tree lines found in the countryside lakes. Seeing through the gauzy layer of mosses, he found alluvial soil and plastic junk mix sedimented at the bottom. Pond’s stone footsteps appeared  bare and visibly hot in the sunshine. A sonorous bird, flapping its blue feather, flew down from the coconut tree and perched cozily on the edge of pond’s wall.

Krishnan thought there was no apparent reason in sidling around. He paused for a minute and then decided to get in to the fore pavilion. His faculty of eyes thus far so accustomed to sunshine glare, even the soothing darkness of the pavillion obscured his vision. As though wet fishes, buoyed out from a dark creek, by stages the stone statues became visible, one after other. Standing in the middle of that  huge collection of two human high statues, unable to single out a statue, he found himself dumbfounded and bewildered at the same time.

“Whos is out there?” an euphonious voice of a woman pulled him back from the dreamlike state. He saw, there was a young woman coming out behind the horse rider statue. Emolliently unpinning the  hem of her saree from the waist, adjusting it properly, moving out the fingerful of hair filaments dangled on her forehead, she was emerging. When she appeared closer, his heart fragmented into thousand pieces, he felt as if he heard a monument bell rang, standing just few feet apart.  She looked as though one of the elegant statue got down alive from the pillar. In his lifetime, he had never seen a woman with such sheeny black skin. He could compare her skin only with the shining blackness of a freshly honed black granite shard. She was as tall as him, with strong shoulders and unslouch head,  stood confidently in front of him.

“No, No, these statues!! ” his over excited eyes, intended to entwine,  rushed towards her. The very same feeling he was so used to while observing  an artistically carved sublime stone statue, came all over him again. Taking cue from his earlier experiences, the foremost thing  he forced himself to do was, smooth his being into present. He told himself, do not run your legs off, quell your urge, go gentle, get along slowly, consume every inch, open your mind. Only after registering every little part, move to next unit. Let you flow all over, submit whole  yourself, allow it to take over. Do not digress the flow with disorder thoughts. Even after these efforts, he knew well that the swift leap of the first ecstasy was ever paralleled. The upcoming joyous moments were all just mere mini dividends of the first impression. He engulfed it, laid back, without sparing even a smidgen  part.

Though  she claimed the overwhelming attention of his vision, he was not at all able to fasten his view on her even for few moments. As though a palmful of butter lump melts through the finger gaps,  she kept on slipped through the corner of his eyes. What an enchanting beauty!! She must have inherited her charmness from her ancestors, whom must had also been part of the very same temple. Centuries ago,  her ancestors must had posed as models in front of a marvelous sculptor who put his heart and soul carving these statues.

He could find no lapse in her spare figure. Her thick thighs, appeared like trunk of elephant calf. Her twicely folded groovy waists, comprising no tinge of extravagance, appeared elegant.  Her soft hip appeared creamy. Her fully ripen vibrant dual bosoms huddling together, setting apart by a blissful clammy tiny cleavage, appeared like fledgling coconuts. Those bobbed out dual bosoms, fulfilled all the possible innermost vacuums of  his deep.

A legendary potter taking handlful of watery earthen clay, placing on a thrice grooved turnable, wheel-head also her neck,  must had lost himself while shaping these breasts. In a equi span, these double bosoms, clawed on to the ribs which appeared as though sand  ripples of a desert. These curvy ribs themself wedged on to the knobby top of the hands. The hands looked alike shiny bamboo poles. Her breasts,  what a wonder sight for parched eyes.

In  his 20 odd years of experience in temple statue research, he always believed that  sublime stone statues are the pure result of limitless imagination of an artistic. No way akin  woman in accurate figure could be found in flesh form. But his notion shattered, as he had to take her complete on his face, wondering how she passed every formula of the statue shaastra. A sharp nose in the center of a  vertical oval shaped face. A dark reddish lips appeared like a withered flower petals , aptly hanging below the noses. Upper lips slightly flexed in, while the lower lips flexed smoothly out. Plum cheeks glittered reflecting the lights in both  the sides.

What a deep blackish beauty!! He found her shining blackness, only in some of the  vessals possessed by ancient temples hermits. An intense artist must had drawn the curves of her nose and eyebrows during  his peak creative moments. Her forehead appeared like flattened thin shining metal sheet. Palm fruit bunch lookalike thick hairdo, Rippling down,  rested on her shoulders. No teensy lapse, No weensy falter. She was overwhelmed with completeness, totalness without any grain of off-putting.

“Sir,  Temple usually open for worshipers  , only in the evening around 5 o'clock” she told. Looked like thus far, she had been stringing  jasmine wreaths, gathering the jasmine buds placed on a wet banana leaf. Her soft pendulous fingers were comparable only  with yazhini figurine’s fingers. Her palms colour appeared like banana flower’s inner layer colour. The shiny black forehand did  not have any protruding veins or bones, looked icy cool like a healthy wet lotus stem. After noticing the direction of his eye on her body, she adjusted the  hem of the saree to cover her bosoms properly. Her bosoms nestling together shook for few seconds, that sight induced, all his innermost parts quaking to great deal. Her bosoms  did not vibrate like any other common woman’s usual breasts movement, they shook tightly like a pair of closely hanging copper bells.

She did not seem to be get affected by  his bare eyeballing. Her content behaviour showed that  s0he must had been used to the public eyes especially their starring while selling the stringed jasmine wreaths. “ No, Actually I came here to watch the statues, not for worshiping.  I suppose the statue pavilions are opened and available for viewing” he replied back.

“Sure, Sir” she told and gently nodded her  head as an acknowledgement. Her neck was devoid of any ornaments. She wore only yellow  sacred thread and pair of plastic earrings. “ Shall I proceed to see the statues?” I asked.  “Hold on a minute , Sir”. She replied. She turned back and sprinted out in no time. Her plump butt cheeks trembled tight  appeared like butts of a running horse. She jumped into the stone pavillion like a prancing blithe deer.

Where did she go? she must have gone to fetch the keys. As minutes pass by, slowly he regained himself  back to normal self from that excited trancelike state. Only then he realised the camera hanging on his shoulder. He decided not to miss chance of take her picture once she returns back,  even though the black and white photograph converted from negaive, would not register her real being. He knew well that there was no chance of that captured photography, do justice to her wholeness.  Her pure blackness would get absorbed by the surrounded lights. Only a veteran painter’s brush has a capability to fulfill her shiny blackness. He could relate her shining black skin with the some of the soft  leaf sprouts he found in deep forest. How could a camera capture that colour? While wandering in such thoughts, in a sudden moment, he fancied her as nude. That imagination was so intense that he was frozen for few moments. He felt as though something seeping though him. Slowly his whole  mind and body filled with word “wholeness” . In that rippling of emotions, he took a seat on the stone platform. He felt a richocheted feeling erupting from his deep caused his hands trembling.

Though his field of vision sailed through her whole body like a gauging scale travels through silk cloth,  he felt that his compos mentis was completely pinpointed on her breasts unmovably. Usually in the middle of a statue carving process, unfinished these  two would appear like a knobby lumpy stone protrudes. Those bulgy breasts would resemble a pair of tapering copper bells exact same size. A women in flesh would never have the dual breasts like these same sized stone bulgies. A common  woman usually have the dual breasts like a vertically spreading dual drops on the wall surface. The right breast hanging loosely below the other one would visibly appear little heavier. But, much to his astonishment, inside the modest blue blouse, her dual breasts appeared like a copied pair of the figurine breasts in exact same  size.

He heard some noise of human voices. Only after few moments he understood that she was bringing some duffer tourist guide. He cursed himself, how the hell he did not foresee this. Like a windy rain on a mountain, Krishnan’s  thus far totally pinpointed focus on her, was going to get dissipate. A new unknown person, that too a man, was not an enthusiastic company at that excited moment. He put on a bitterness filled surly face and got up. A black man with smiling countenance, clasping his hands with her hands sparing  no gap, appeared along with her. He remember the sacred yellow thread she wore and did not take much time to conclude their relationship.

Standing in the middle of that densed pillar line, “Good evening Sir” the new guy greeted him.  His askew salute looked little weird. “ Good evening” krishnan greeted him back. “ I came here to watch the stone statues, is he a watchman or guide?” I asked her.

“My husband sir” she replied. “He is an expert in guiding and explaining these statues” she was beaming. Only now he noticed her salt  granule coloured tooth lines , flashed in front of him like a meteor. He was wondering why there was an instinctively spurted blushing and cheerfulness in her  voice for such a normal praising words. She must be passionately loving him. She affectionately had this guide guy by his forearms. It appeared that, that was  her usual body language when she was with her husband irrespective of the surroundings. But he looked little uncomfortable because of her cuddling behaviour in front of a total stranger. “ Believe in me Sir. I will show you all the important statutes.” he asserted. 

“No, No, I would like..” I stammered. Upon my hesitation, he responded quickly “ You can pay me what you desire  after I my work completed” . His confident on his job surprised me. So far whomever he met as so called tourist guides had a  knowledge of not more than 100 sentences. Most of them were ridiculous contrived stories “Ok. Proceed ahead, do we need key?” Krishnan asked.

“No Sir. We don’t lock anything here” he replied. Krishnan paced ahead of him thinking about the weirdness of his jaw or mouth or rather his chin.  There was something abstruse about his face. He had a commonplace yet appealing face. As though a drifting black fume diffused unevenly on his face, he had a soft beard. His ruffling hair looked curly. His mustache began like a cat’s whiskers in the center and  ended little more dense in the edges. Certainly something gone missing in his face.

Wandering in these thoughts,  Krishnan turned back, only to see the sight of  her husband enjoying her favors. He bent forward and showing  his temples and forehead, while she was daubing the sweat smoothly with her saree hem. Responding to this unexpected glance from Krishnan, She turned towards him and shook her head as if  asking “Hmm?”. After few minutes, the guide guy venturing towards Krishnan “ This temple was originally raised and installed in 11th century by King Jatavarman Kulasekaran Sir. Starting from 1190 AD until 1217 AD , he ruled Madurai Pandiya Kingdom. During his tenure, under his patronage , there were 7 temples were constructed in total. This temple was the second one.  Centuries later, King Thirumalai Nayakar’s descendant Rengappa nayakan expanded the temple by holy renovation adding these Rayargopuram towers, surrounded huge maha-paviilions plus the outer granite walls of the temples” he delineated fluently without any pause.

Krishnan thought that they must be newly wed couples. The young man came near him “ Sir,. My name is Raju, I belong to this temple. There is nothing unknown to me here” he properly introduced himself.

Krishnan felt a jolt inside his kernel and unconsciously took a support of the pedestal stone, when he happened to meet his eyes. That young man was a blind. As though a dual white oval shaped wampums, his eye pupils oscillated  inside his eye lashes. “I heard literary and art people mentioning about these stone statues as the exemplary epitome of the Nayakar era sculpture artwork. Even the Hindu daily paper published an articles about this temple statues.”  He continued walking towards him without any fuss.

“Are you visually impaired?” Krishnan asked him. “Yes Sir.  I was expecting to hear this question lickety-split. Indeed this is an abnormally longer time you have  taken to find this out” he laughed. His eye socket devoid of actual eyes, appeared like some creepy insect, which bothered him to core. By looking at the woman stone statue which was clutching ̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣̣a feathery hand fan. “Are you blind by birth?” he asked . “Never knew the thing called seeing” he replied.

He was having hard time to continue the conversation as  he was not able to fetch right words. “By the way, who is she?” he asked , wondering himself after realizing the obvious ridiculousness behind that question.  “She is my wife, Sir. She and her mother sold stringing flower in the market, when I met her first.  I born and brought up at this very same temple. My mother was a beggarwoman. After her mother expired,  I married her and settled down in this temple along with her “ He grinned , visibly blushing . “we are blessed with a 2 year baby girl, can’t believe 4 years ran off since I married her. Sir “ he told with the a slightly tilted jaw, typical for a visually challenged human.

Krishnan turned around and a threw a sidelong look at her. It seemed like she re-began her flower stringing work. Only her loosely hung  single leg from the chair was viewable from that angle. “Her name is Malli. Such a good mannered girl, Sir”. He told. Krishnan asked “ Where is your daughter?” . “ She is in my home. My  mother is taking care of her. Our then straitened situation improved by the money I get in this job. Now a days I have asked her not to strain herself going for begging. Ok Sir, Let us proceed ahead to see the statues” he paced ahead.

Hardly deviating the focus from him, Krishnan followed  “Sir, You must see this Kuravar(*) statue.  In all these southern pandya temples where Nayakar kings endeavoured the holy renovation, these unique Kuravar and lady Kurathi(*) statues are installed. Typically these statues designed such way that  the Kuravar carries a princess on his shoulder ,  similarly the Kurathi lady would be carrying a prince on her head above. History researchers have come up with  many theories on why these statues were designed in such a way. Had these just for aesthetic purpose, the kings had not have installed in exact same posture in  all the temples as custom. Come closer and look at the Kuravar statue more intently, he does not look like a commonplace hill Kuravar. Behold his highly embellished ornamental waist belt known as salladam. What an work of art, they look like small beads meticulously strung together in an even gap unfailingly. If you look closely, you can find that the string through which the beads are strung thricely braided. Just amazing. We can claim these statues as the paragon of the Nayakar era sculpture artwork” he explained.

In his whole life, Krishnan never observed the statues as intently as on that moment.  He went ahead and had feel of touch from those stone statues. “Sir, hold on, more to come. Look at the chief tool called Udukku hanging in this hip, which itself fastened by thricely braided rope also his belt. Look at the sharp knife of the Kuravar. The diamonds are sumptuously embellished on top of the knife handle. Look at the Dhoti he is wearing, such a nicety one,  displays of the status of this Kuravar on that era. On his chest he is wearing Arthsanhara haaram chain, completely filled with medals. He is not a mundane commonplace Kuravar, he is a Kuravar king. Look at his crown, how majestic. “

Krishnan stood as if frozen for few mins while observing the Kuravar statue. When he fixed his gaze at his eyes, at one unreasoning moment he imagined as though the statue emerging alive after centuries of dormancy. “There is an another speciality about these statues. Usually when the sculptor carves the god statues, they  never make the bone structure visible. In this case, look at the ribs of this Kuravar, how visibility rippled. Kuravar has a spare figure yet you could feel how strong he is. There were high chances that Kuravar was inducted do the Gandharva marriage (*) under the kingdom of Pandyas. A small figurine of princess on the shoulder of Kuravar king, upheld the back of her saree like a unfolded umbrella.

Kurava kings’ eyes were wide and wild like a pair of buffalo eyes. “ Kurava has a truly savage look. In the sasthra it is called Mahisha nayana.  Ironically observe his leg posture, one leg is in hesitatingly front and the other one is slightly bent in the back. This posture is called viyaagra bhavam, sneaking of Tiger before the high leap over its prey” he explained.

Krishnan keyed up on the guide guy’s minute detailed delineation “ How on earth you knew all these?” asked him.  “A brahmin Iyer used to visit this temple years ago. His name was Narayanasamy Acharya. Highly learnt man. He was fond of me. While offering some food to eat. He described these details like a story narration. Unfortunately that good soul expired last year” he said. “This lady Kurathi standing as tall as  11 feet and 8 inch”. He continued.

Kurathi’s  hairdo roved together tufted up and laid comfortably on her shoulder. Her womanly body was buoyed with machoness. Strong and healthy dual bosoms. Like a neck of a pot, she has a lean waist. She is enacting obstination and haughtiness at the same time in her physiognomy. Like the interpassing lines of the box made by palmyra sheaths, she has a braided  hair. Kurathi is a middle aged woman, who gave birth to a child, look at the stretch marks on her stomach. You can identify only if you get closer. Yet her bosoms look like a virgin woman’s. Overall we can say she is an exalted status queen. Look at the prince sitting on her shoulder. His eyes are scintillated as though a cute child sitting on his mother’s shoulder.  Look at his cherubic smile. ” he continued.

Krishnan took a step back to see the overall figure of the kurathi statue “Typically, for a woman in flesh form, out of her dual bosoms, one would be slightly hanging lower below than the other one. But in samuthrika lakshna protocol you cannot carve a woman statue in that design. If a statue woman stands straight, displaying these two as identical breasts, it won’t lead to any beautiness. In that case woman would look like a  mundane nachi figurines which holds lamps like soulless doll. Sculptor had come up with a brilliant idea to distinguish these dual bosoms. They typically carve these statues like this Kurathi statue. This is called Sandhya padma stand. Kurathi stands like a lotus bud mildly weathering during the dusk. You can see clearly, one breast outflexed out front and other one inflexed in automatically. That's is the splendorous result of an artist’s imagination. That's really something. Even after these additional beautification, remember she is not a virgin woman. Look at how big  her nipples are.” he continued.

“Did Acharyar explain these details too?” asked Krishnan smirkingly. “No , no , Sir, I discovered these  by my seeing ” He answered.

“By seeing these?” Krishnan asked again smilingly. “ For me seeing  is touching sir, As I told you, I was born and raised in these temples. There is no single statue  in this temple unknown to me. I moved around every part of the statues with my fingers, at least 100 times. There are times when I spent entire night,  touching feeling seeing these statues without any intermission. I could very well claim that the I must have done this more than thousands. I can detect even a small scratch in the statues, if any at any moment,  in the next second” He answered.

Krishnan looked at his face without any motion. The guide’s askew physiognomy got used to his vision, the emptiness he felt earlier washed away.  “ This statue is called Agora Veerapadhran. The similar one standing in the other side called Agni Veerapadhran. The one who stands right in front of this statue is called Ooorthuva Veerapadhran. He is clutching the weapons in all of his sixteen hands.   Kadgam a sword, Kathai a combination of mace and club, Mazhu a battle-axe, Saaban a bow. He is not in the typical post killing spree reaction. He is actually kind of in dancing posture sir. This is called Nruthyam. Intense dislike and bravery is mixed in this composed posture.

Krishnan brooded over that the statue  knowledge in the head of the guide guy. So much details could very well be transformed into 1000 pages of a book.  Krishnan had a hunch about that Iyenger Acharya elder. He must had lived as a mobile sculpture sastra database. He must be sitting in the temple idly with his head full of ideas,  destituded by his family and the village people, for his practically non-money making knowledge. Any case, he had transferred his whole art knowledge to a worthy junior.

“This is the Rathi statue sir, the other one is the Manmadhan alias Kamadeva. In the southern pandya temples Rathi-Kamadeva statues was mandatorily installed. At some era, these deities were worshiped as a separate tantric god goddesses. They retained their status in this current form, Sir. These two are the most enchanting statues of this whole temple. While Rathidevi is the zenith epitome of feminine beauty, Kamadeva is the pinnacle of masculine attraction. How gracefully she presided over the white swan Sir? You know the range  of jewels she is wearing ? The total number of chains she possesses on her neck itself 18 in count. Bangles, Bell type earrings, shoulder chains are extra. She is wearing the complete list of ornaments mentioned in the sculpture saastra. Yet her body is not at all hidden under the jewels. Her statuesque is exponentially beautified by the ornaments. Look at the cleavage of her breasts, the ornaments are carved in such a way that, the curves of her breasts are not even a tinge compromised. “ he explained.

Raju touched the rathi’s feet and displayed. “ Look at her nails. Shining like a rarely found deep sea messel. Kalidas says sudhatchana’s nails were like eyes of a Tigress . This Rathi has very much same nails. Look how gracefully these are glittering Sir. Have you thought why the artist showed much interest to this tiny nail part?  There are chances that even the world beauty would have an impure nails. If you are even a little malnutritioned the nail will be symptomized. Nail manifests the inner and outer beauty of a woman, right as rain. If her nails are completely pure then she must be the greatest complete beauty. You can take few steps back and observe her” Raju explained.

Raju went on the opposite side. “ He is Kamadeva. There are very few statues have mustache in their face. Kamadeva is one of them. Look how domineer his body.  Like a bull kept for covering , which approaching ahead by shaking its hump . One of his legs is one step ahead of other the one. It shows his desire. Always man should take the first step sir. Look at his look, its totally fastened on Rathidevi. But Rathidevi is not looking at him directly, she is looking down at the floor. He is holding a bow made by sugarcane in the left arm, in the right arm he is holding an arrow made by wild jasmine. Look  how elegantly he is holding the arrow as emollient touch in the gap of his thumb and index finger. Like smoothly holding a flower. Flower should not be held crunched when held on the fingers. “ Raju smiled. “Cup your eyes through Kamadeva’s hand and observe intently sir. You will see the nipples of Rathidevi in a straight angle“ Raji told.

Oh Yes. Krishnan overawed and stood stunned. “His fingers are holding the nipples of Rathidevi, subtly . Like gentle holding of a wild jasmine buds.  These should be handled carefully tactically says these statues. It is really something“ Raju explained. Krishnan looked at the eyes of kamadeva for the first time. Unbridled desire  called love buoyed with lust, spurting out from those eyes. He has a desire evoking smile. He wears lust on his lips. Those lips were frozen while uttering the word “desire for love” .

“Mama!!” She called Raju , upon hearing those words Krishnan turned around.  “What dear!” he asked her. “I completed the stringing of buds garland and kept it on the table. Please take that with you while leaving. I am leaving to market along with Selva sister. “ she stammered hesitated, by stages her blushing was clearly visible. What is she saying? Her right hand was tossing her hairdo back and forth and also fondly touching her neck. Her other hand was rolling the hand bangles.  She stood swaying and inflexed. Her eyes flashed like a teenage girl fallen in her first love.

Krishnan  turned and had a fixed gaze at Raju this time. His face with filled with desire on her, slightly raising his jaw “I will take care of those dear!. You come back carefully” he told.  Krishnan observed that she never took her eyes off Raju. The whole time she was exhibiting courtship gestures towards him from each of her pore. She waited as though she wanted to utter few more words, she hesitated and then turned back and walked away calmly.

“Kamadeva does not possess any weapon Sir. The sugarcane bow plus wild jasmine arrows are his only possessions. Now, If you look closer at his legs” Raju re-began his explanation having tactile sense.

<The End>


Kalasam  - Golden pinacle potty structues present on top of temple towers

Devakottam - slight extention middle of Temple Tower

Sricharnam -  The tilaka used by followers of Sri Vaishnava. The figure drawn is representative of the feet of Narayana with Lakshmi in the middle.

Kuravar - Kuravar is an ethnic Tamil community native to the Kurinji mountain region of southern India. At present considered as a tribal gypsy community.  {Kurathi - Lady }

Gandharva Marriage -  is one of the eight classical types of Hindu marriage. This ancient marriage tradition from the Indian subcontinent was based on mutual attraction between two people, with no rituals, witnesses or family participation.


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