My feet grew weary

My feet grew weary...

"No one knows

where to place whom;

the distinction between the common crow

and the cuckoo

is not understood—

the difference is not understood..."

As this song by Kannadasan drifted to my ears,

stirring up a host of memories

that knocked gently at my heart,

I smiled softly to myself.

Once, long ago...

A Chola king was walking along the banks of the Kaveri, admiring the lush beauty of the groves.

There, by the riverbank, lay a conch shell,

its mouth agape, gazing upwards at the sky.

Just then, a single drop of nectar

fell from a flower on a nearby tree

straight into the open mouth of that conch...

Ah... what a magnificent sight!

Lost in the wonder of that moment,

the king stood transfixed for a while.

He returned to the palace,

his mind still dwelling on that scene.

How boundless is nature's compassion!

The memory of that exquisite sight

kept playing over and over in his mind;

unable to sleep, he tossed and turned all night,

captivated by the recollection.

How did such great grace come to pass—

causing even a mindless conch shell to lie there gazing upward,

letting a drop of nectar fall into its mouth,

and granting it such delight?

By whose doing did this happen?

All night long, the image refused to leave his thoughts.

Dawn broke.

The Chola king’s court assembled.

Poets and ministers sat together, conversing.

Yet, the king’s mind had not moved on from the memories of the previous day;

it kept wandering back to the banks of the Kaveri.

Just then, Avvaiyar walked gently into the Chola king's court.  Upon seeing Avvai, the king welcomed her, saying, "Welcome... please come and sit."

Yet, he immediately turned away and began conversing with other poets.

There was no seat available for Avvai to sit on, and no one else seemed to notice that she was left standing.

Avvaiyar had walked a very long distance to get there.

The fatigue and exhaustion from the journey made her look around for a place to sit.

But... where could she sit?

The king had invited her to sit but had not offered his own seat!

What is this? The Chola king was not known to behave this way...

He was someone who accorded due respect to Tamil and Tamil poets.

What had happened today?

Why... oh, why?

As these questions arose in her mind, a poem emerged—a verse that served as a direct question to the king.

What question did Avvai ask?

Here is the poem for you:

"My feet ache—oh, how they ache—from the hurried journey;

The distance I traversed was no easy feat.

O Ruler of the fertile land embraced by the Cauvery—

Where the flower opens its mouth to the dark honey—

Where is the seat for me to rest?"

Thus asked Avvai.

"O Ruler of the fertile land embraced by the Cauvery—where the flower opens its mouth to drink the abundant honey! Driven by the eagerness to see you, I walked the entire path in haste. My feet are aching terribly, and the distance I covered was vast and arduous. Having come from so far and standing now in your court, where is the place for me to sit?" — This is the meaning of the poem.

Upon hearing this poem by Avvai,

The king was startled.

He was filled with remorse, realizing he had committed a grave oversight.  She sings of the scene she witnessed just yesterday

as if she were seeing it right before her eyes...

How can one describe the depth of Avvai's wisdom!

Yesterday's events had left me spellbound... and in that state of bewilderment,

I failed to offer you the seat you deserved.

Oh Avvai!... Please forgive me...

The King offered her a seat—"Please, be seated now"—

and accorded her the honor she was due.

Was the Chola King one who did not know where to seat whom?

"In a land where even the *sangu*—the curved conch—finds dark honey, is there no place for a poet like me to sit? Shall I not receive even a token of your affection?" 

What a magnificent question!

A question that caused no hurt.

A question that made the error understood.

A question that made everyone turn and look, realizing, "This, indeed, is true poetic genius."