ABOUT THE POEM:The poem THE DEATH OF PERUNCHEERALATHAN (THE KING WHO CHOSE HONOUR OVER LIFE ) paints a sombre picture of a land plunged into grief after a tragic royal conflict. Everywhere there is sorrow — music, feasts and festivals have ceased. The drums of war and the melodies of the harp are silent; even the cooking pots lie overturned and people forget to eat. Farmers no longer sing in the fields and the village streets have lost their festive glow.In this desolate setting, two great kings — the Chera and the Chola — face each other in battle. Just as the sun fades when the moon rises, one king must fall when another ascends in glory. The Chera king, Peruncheeralathan, feeling both wounded and shamed by the spear of his equal, Karikalan, cannot bear the dishonour.Choosing dignity over defeat, he fasts unto death on the battlefield. Facing north — the direction of warriors — he places his sword before him, sits in meditation and embraces death as an act of royal penance.The poem closes with the world itself seeming dim and joyless after his death; daylight no longer feels bright for with his passing, an age of honour and heroism has ended.THE DEATH OF PERUNCHERALATHAN(THE KING WHO CHOSE HONOUR OVER LIFE)Sorrow spread everywhere, in all things pain,The drum of war forgot its thunderous call,The harp’s sweet mode was lost — no shimmering again.The cooking pot lay spilt, bereft of all,Its ghee forgotten; hearths grew cold and bare,While kinsmen starved, unmoved by hunger’s thrall.No farmer sang, no ploughman voiced the air,The village street forgot its festivity and cheer,The moon seemed dim, the night too dull to stare.As sun gives way when moon’s pale lamp draws near,So one bright king in glory fades away,When from his line another must appear.Of Chola and Chera, Chola held the day,The other, struck with shame, refused to yield,And met his death in war’s devouring fray.His rival’s spear had grazed his noble shield,And shame, more sharp than wound, consumed his breath;The Noble king Chera sat in penance on the bloody fieldHis vow: to fast and invite death facing north.Before his sword, he placed himself, serene—A warrior-king who dared not break his faith.Now joy is gone; no day feels brightened ,The sun itself seems slow to climb the blue ,For mirth departed where his soul reigned .PURANANURU - 65POET: KAZHAATHTHALAIYAARPATRON: THE CHERA KING PERUNCHEERALATHAN (This poem was composed about the Chera King Peruncheeralathan, who, after engaging in battle with Karikala Peruvazhuthan, was wounded in the back. While he sat facing north — the sacred direction of warriors — this poem was sung in his honour. This highlights the dignity of Peruncheeralathan’s final act: dying in silence before his own sword rather than yielding in shame.)

Ver todos los episodios