The Taprobanian (3.1888)

February, 1888.]

THE STORY OF KOVALAN.

21

do this, or he would be scorned and despised by
all who knew him, and expelled from his family.
Mataki, however, was greatly grieved, asking
whether Kannakai was more beautiful than she,
and demanding’ what fault she had committed
that he should discard her after their twelve
years of happiness.
Kovalan, however, vowed to love her as before,
and to return after the funeral ceremonies were
completed, and the tali removed from his wife’s
neck.
Mataki asked Kovalan to leave his effigy
with her.
Mataki begged Kovalan to leave her an image
of himself, to console her until his return. Find-
ing he had still enough gold to do this, he went
out to the goldsmiths’ quarters and applied to
seven brothers, very skilful workmen, whose
images were life-like. His appearance was so
like that of Sokkalingam that the smiths hastily
brought flowers, offered them to him, and began
to worship him, thinking the god himself had
come to patronise them. This frightened him,
and learning the’ cause of their strange action,
he explained that he was a Setti by caste, and
had come to request them to mould an image
exactly like him.
The smiths ask time.
Kovalan now enquired how soon they would
be able to complete the image, and on learning
that eight days was the shortest time it could be
done in, he gave them the gold, and requested
them to melt it.
Kovalan himself moulds the image.
Kovalan now set to work and moulded his own
image in clay, and called for the melted gold.
Meditating on Kannakai he poured it into the
mould, and immediately the image was formed
in his exact likeness.
He now took the image and reaching his
house, placed it in the porch, while he went in
and asked Mataki to allow him to go. She
replied that he might go as soon as the image
was brought. He then invited her to the porch,
where to her amazement and joy she saw the
wondrous image. Even yet she sought a pretext
to detain him, and pretending to be annoyed,
she asked why he had brought her a dumb image.
She refused to let him go, unless he made the
image speak.
Kovalan makes the image speak.
He then went into the garden, and searching
out the proper leaves of certain medicinal plants,
he put a religious mark on the forehead of the

image with their sap, and again meditated upon
Kannakai. Slowly the image came to life, and
opening its eyes, addressed Mataki, saying
dearest Mataki send away this Setti, and take
me for your slave until my brother retrun.
The image chastises Mataki.
Even yet Mataki remained obdurate and silent,
but her treatment of his offer so angered the
image that it seized a cane, and severely chastised
her.
Mataki dismisses Kovalan.
Mataki now gave way, and begged Kovalan to
set out at once on his journey. He left the
house, but when he reached the porch, he lay
down to sleep. Kannakai’s messengers mean-
while were engaged in bathing at the tank.
Mataki, reconciled to his absence, proceeded to
eat her dinner as if nothing had occurred.
Kannakai curses the image.
Meanwhile Kannakai grew impatient, and at
last had resort to magic. Great was her indig-
nation when she discovered by it that Kovalan
was making an image for Mataki, instead of
obeying her summons. Deeply outraged she
uttered terrible curses, and in consequence the
image ceased to speak, and to move. Mataki,
ignorant of the cause was greatly angered by the
silence of the image, and taking it by one leg,
threw it down upon a rock, and broke it to
pieces. She then went to her mother, and com-
plained that Kovalan had deceived her.
Mataki’s mother recalls Kovalan.
The mother now despatched a letter to Kovalan,
telling him that as Mataki lay sleeping by the
side of his image, a serpent crawled upon the
bed, and bit Mataki, who had died. She urgently
entreated him to return, and assist her in con-
ducting the funeral suitably. Her maids took
the letter, and overtaking Kovalan on the
road to Kaveripun-pattunam. gave it to his
hands.
Kovalan’s lamentation for Mataki.
On reading the letter, Kovalan was struck
with the deepest grief and despair. In his agony
he asked whether the Divine Will could really
have ordained that he should lose both his wife
and concubine. He hesitated no longer however,
and giving five hundred gold pieces to the
messengers of Kannakai, he desired them to say
that though he had started to perform her funeral
rites, another misfortune had befallen him upon
the road, and he had to return. He promised
them that he would come after discharging the
new duty, and returned, in deep lamentation and