Agam and Kalam
The unexpected night forced us to sleep on our horses. The merchant’s old, trained horse was tied to Thejan, trusting the steady beast to guide us through the dark. Deep in sleep, I felt an arm brush across my abdomen.
“Get off me, merchant,” I muttered, sitting upright. I nearly tumbled when I realized the merchant was still asleep on his own mount. We were surrounded by a herd of elephants.
Agam was the only place on the entire island where wild elephants still roamed — the legendary infantry that had let Pathukala rule for thousands of years.
I kicked the merchant awake. He jolted, almost falling.
“Quiet,” I whispered.
We had never seen elephants travel in such a large herd. A playful baby trotted over, its trunk reaching toward my face. The tiny hairs tickled. It wanted to play.
A deep trumpet sounded. The tallest elephant, its massive tusks capped with gold plates and bearing a howdah for two, stepped forward. Atop it sat Kani. At her silent signal, the herd melted back into the jungle.
The royal elephant knelt. Kani dismounted gracefully. She looked different — groomed, regal, a deep red saree setting off her pale skin.
“Grandfather was right,” she said with a faint smile. “He said you’d get lost in Agam.”
“So you came looking for me… I mean, us.”
Her lips hid a small smile as she patted the elephant’s leg.
“No. We came to pray to Lord Vanagan.”
“We?” I echoed.
Tabi appeared behind her.
“Can I come see your god Vanagan?” Tabi asked boldly.
Kani took his arm and looked at me.
“Let him come. Let him see what his father did to the oldest town on this island.”
I frowned. Every text claimed Chendurai was the oldest. Then Selvan’s words returned: History is written by the victors.
The merchant and Tabi followed as Kani led us in silence.
Finally she spoke.
“Go ahead. Kill me if it makes you happy.”
A sad smile touched her lips.
“You talk just like my grandfather.”
“I hope you like him more than your villagers do.”
“They still blame him for the war,” she said quietly. “If he had defied his father — the Emperor — the rebellion might never have happened.”
“How could he disobey the Emperor?”
“Common people don’t care about royal rules. They wanted their hero, the greatest swordsman who ever lived, to save them. But he refused to march on Ankala when your villages burned.”
Tabi added, “They needed someone to blame for the defeat, so they dishonored a noble man.”
Kani nodded. “We are alike, you and I.”
We reached flat ground. An eroded hill rose ahead, its base cradling massive stone buildings tangled with grass roots and puddles. On the far right lay the broken head of a giant statue.
I pointed. Kani immediately slapped my hand down.
“Did you bathe?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The merchant and I shook our heads. She told Tabi to prepare the pooja.
“Is this Kalam?” I asked.
“No. This is only the temple. Come — we climb to the waterfall.”
We left the horses with Tabi and the royal elephant. I helped the merchant up the steep path. Near the top the air grew cool and wet.
Kani reached the summit first, back to the falls, and shouted, “Come here!”
I joined her. She pointed down.
“This is Kalam.”
Between two mountains lay the ruins of a vast city — the largest I had ever seen. Trees grew through cracked stone buildings. Multi-storey structures, an artificial river fed by the waterfall, a great central lake. Houses grew grander as they climbed toward palaces now lost. We stood two hundred feet above it all. A colossal emperor’s statue lay shattered. The very center — the old fort — had been razed flat.
“That was the royal fort,” Kani said, pain in her voice. “A thousand-year city died in a hundred days.”
Now mountain buffaloes grazed where kings once walked.
She turned away.
“I was never a lucky girl. I disappointed my father at birth, disappointed my people, unlucky in everything — even love.”
I took her hands. We looked down at the ghost city.
“You may be unlucky,” I said, “but you are the kindest woman I’ve ever met. You treat every subject like family. That means, Princess, you are definitely not unlucky in love.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. I cupped her face.
The merchant appeared, dripping. “Prince, I’m starving.”
I nodded, still lost in her eyes.
We descended, gathering flowers and fruit. At the temple, the Aga tribe — the forest’s original people — had joined Tabi. They adored Kani.
While I tied tent ropes, Kani served buttermilk, saving the last cup for me. She sat smiling.
“Who doesn’t love you, Kani?” I asked.
A tribal elder asked through Kani if they could bathe our horses with the royal elephant. I agreed and removed the saddles. Kani picked up the fallen scroll.
“Important message from your emperor?”
“Open it.”
She blushed. “You are beautiful in this.”
“Si— Kala… Sikala? The famous artist?”
“She doesn’t paint anymore.”
The merchant joined us. “Is that the Sikala?”
Kani’s eyes lit up.
“Yes,” I said. “The Empress of Ankala.”
Kani’s smile faded.
The merchant continued, “I saw her coronation. A goddess… forgive me, my lord, but there were rumors about you and her…”
Kani stood quickly. “Let’s check the horses.”
We led the horses through thick jungle to a wild river. Past a fallen trunk we found an elephant on the ground.
“It’s alive,” I said. “Starving, injured rogue.”
I fetched jackfruits. Kani brought herbs. The merchant cleaned wounds. After the second jackfruit the elephant stood. We backed away slowly.
At the river the royal elephant suddenly charged us, trumpeting. The rogue followed. I pulled Kani aside.
Kani shouted, “Baarge! Baarge!” The royal elephant stopped.
The rogue lowered her trunk in submission.
I stroked her. Kani calmed the royal elephant, murmuring, “Annaiya, you scared me.”
She smiled at me. “She’s female. Name her.”
The elephant nuzzled me.
“She wants you to ride,” Kani laughed.
The elephant knelt. I climbed on. Kani mounted Annaiya.
“Is it always this easy?”
“Only because of Annaiya. She’s yours now.”
We rode back together. Seeing two elephants arrive for the ritual, an old woman began the emperor’s welcome song. Tabi tried to stop her; she sang louder.
When we dismounted she blessed us and spoke. Kani translated softly:
“It has been decades since two elephants marched together for this ritual.”
Noon fell. Rituals ended, feast began — goat curry, wild rice, jackfruit. Tribesmen performed Silaq, the bamboo martial art. Tabi beat everyone, then challenged me.
A shorter staff was tossed to me. I entered the circle, touched the ground in respect. Tabi attacked like lightning. I studied, dodged, and let him land a few blows. When he lunged overhead I blocked, swept his legs. He fell. Victory.
The merchant started the applause.
Later, among the ruins, Kani said, “I chose her name.”
“You said she was mine!”
“I’m still naming her — Kolita.”
“Kolita?”
“The savior elephant who repelled the foreign invasion centuries ago.”
“Foreigners invaded?”
“You know nothing, Prince.” She laughed. “It’s final.”
“But I ride south tomorrow. I can’t take her.”
“Then I’ll care for her — if you promise to return.”
The merchant smiled at our bargaining. Tabi drew the shortcut to Anniyur.
I went to Kani one last time.
“Goodbye?”
She raised her hand as if to slap me. “You promised.”
“I’ll return. For Kolita, of course.”
“Read Grandfather’s book. It holds true history.”
“Any other commands, Your Highness?”
“Don’t die. Come back soon.”
She ran to me, tied a red thread around my wrist.
“For luck.”
“Go,” I said, voice thick, “before I cry.”
Tears already fell. The whole tribe watched. I turned and left, heart heavy.
The merchant rode beside me silently, then said, “God always tests the good ones.”
“Then He’ll never test you,” I replied, hiding my pain.
We pushed through the last bushes. Anniyur lay ahead.
“I never dreamed I’d travel with the Prince,” the merchant said, eyes shining. “Thank you, my lord. I’ll visit my cousin here.”
I dismounted and hugged him.
“God sent you to me, friend. I never asked your name.”
“Gupa, my prince. Just Gupa.”
“Come find me at the fort one day.”
“My honor.”
He turned right. I rode straight — toward Ankala.
Three soldiers blocked me, spears lowered.
“We saw you come from Agam. Who are you?”
A royal palanquin arrived.
“Prince? Is that you?” cried Niran, the feudatory king of Anniyur.
“Idiots — stand down!” He turned to me warmly. “You must dine with us tonight at the palace.”
I smiled wearily and nodded.
The road home had finally opened.
