ABOUT THE POEM:
The poem THE KING’S NOBLE GESTURE describes a scene where a royal war-drum’s bed, beautifully made without a wrinkle is decorated with peacock feathers and golden flowers as symbols of war. The bed, meant for the drum to rest after being bathed in blood during battle, stood empty before the drum’s return.
A poet, unaware that it was the war-drum’s sacred bed, lay down on it and fell asleep. When the king returned with his victorious drum, he saw the poet sleeping there. Instead of punishing him for this disrespect, the king mercifully spared him, showing noble virtue.
But the king did not stop at mercy alone. He went further and used his strong arms to fan the poet and cool him with fresh air. The poet humbly reflects that such divine treatment is usually reserved for the truly virtuous, not for someone who had unknowingly committed a fault like him.
Finally, the poet wonders how he can describe such a generous act. The king, through his noble and merciful deed, granted him an honor and grace that even the virtuous seek to attain in the afterlife.
THE KING’S NOBLE GESTURE
No wrinkle marred that noble bed, so finely was it made,
Its base adorned by peacock plume, with golden blossoms bright;
For war-drum's bath in blood it stood, beneath the open glade,
Alone it lay ere drum returned, soft as the oil's froth light.
Unknowing, on that war-drum's bed, a poet sought his rest,
The king returned, his banner high, and saw the bard asleep;
He spared the man from cleaving blade — his mercy was expressed —
A deed that showed his Tamil grace, in memory to keep.
Enough that he forbore the blow, but more the king bestowed:
He waved the fan, his shoulders strong, and cooled the heated air;
What act is this, O mighty one, whose fame the world overflowed?
You gave, unearned, the heavenly bliss that only great men share.
For those of worth, the sages say, heaven’s gates will open wide,
But here you gave a sinful man what virtue oft forbades;
O king, what name shall I now give this kindness magnified?
Your strength, your grace, your noble heart — my lowliness evades.
PURANANURU - 50
POET: MOSIKIRANAR
PATRON KING: CHERAMAN PERUN CHERAL IRUMPORAI, WHO CONQUERED TAKADUR
