“Any volunteer to go against this girl?” Prince Rajendra thundered again.

Paavai and Sembuli, though a little shaken by the emotion shown by the Prince, stood calm, waiting. Someone would step forward eventually, they knew. Someone had to. If not there would be whispers that the valiant soldiers of the mighty Chozha army were not confident enough to go up in a demonstration against even a child. Sembuli knew that someone would have to come forward. But it was not a winning proposition. If someone did and they won against Paavai, they would be secretly chastised for showing their might against a small girl. If they controlled their skills and showed restraint, they would be accused of purposely losing to a child, or even worse still, of not being good enough to beat even a young girl. There would be no winners in this fight, he too knew.

A slight commotion from behind the tent made all eyes turn in that direction. A soldier walked out towards the center of the circle and stood in front of Prince Rajendra. Everyone in the crowd pushed forward a little to see who had taken up the challenge to go against their Paavai. The man who stood in front of the Prince was above average in height and had the build of a soldier who had spent his life training to fight and using that training to fight. Though most of them could only see his back, those who stood in a position in the crowded circle to see his face were disappointed to see that he had covered his head and face with a tightly wound turban that had a small piece of cloth sticking out above the head, leaving only a small gap for his eyes to see through. 

“It seems at least one of my soldiers is brave enough”, said Rajendra in a tone that seemed to be devoid of emotion. “Well, Sembuli, you have your volunteer”, he added. “Begin”, he ordered with a wave of his hand.

All three of them bowed in unison and stepped back to the center of the ring of people. Sembuli handed his staff to the soldier so that he would be using the same weapon as Paavai. He looked at Paavai and gave a slight nod and walked over to the side from where he could get an unobstructed view of the action in front.

Paavai first bowed to the Prince, a deep bow of ‘Silambam’, a martial art fought specifically with staffs. She then bowed to her opponent who stood watching her and took her stance, ready to face the man in front of her. The soldier did the same, first bowing to the Prince and then to his young opponent and then he too stood ready, his stance that of defense.

The action started slowly, almost hesitatingly at first, each trying to gauge the other. Paavai’s staff started moving faster once she had gotten a measure of her opponent. Her technique was flawless and her staff came pretty close to making contact with the body of her opponent a few times. But physical strength and years of practice and training always have an upper hand and so it was in that challenge too. Though Paavai used the standard size staff instead of a shorter one as was the norm with children, Paavai’s reach seemed to always fall a little short and her staff always a little too slow to make effective inroads into the defensive whirl of her opponent’s staff. Though she somehow managed to defend herself from her opponent’s attacks, her staff on the attack seemed to be thrust away a little too easily at the last instant. And as the action progressed, Paavai began to grow tired. Sensing her energy flagging, her opponent waited for that one perfect instant when a flash of his wrist caught Paavai’s staff at an awkward angle and sent it flying to the side. And the next instant saw his staff sweep Paavai off her feet, landing her sprawled on her back, hands spread wide on either side. The soldier’s staff pointed down, just a fraction away from touching her throat, signaling that she had been bested.

The crowd that had been following the action with shouts of encouragement to Paavai, throughout the match, now fell silent, saddened to see in reality the result that each of them knew would be what they were seeing in front of them. The soldier, having ended the encounter, relaxed a little, the tension on his staff easing. At that precise moment, as if she had been waiting for just such an instant, Paavai grabbed the end of the staff with both her hands and twisted it violently to her left. The staff, held in the soldier’s right hand turned vehemently away from him, the end held in his hand, flying out and catching him squarely on the underside of his jaw, just below his right ear, one of the most vulnerable spots in the human head. The impact caught him unprepared, sending him staggering back, the thin cloth covering his face offering no protection against sharp stab of the stick.

Paavai rolled to her right once and in the next roll, reached out and grabbed her staff that was lying on the ground. And in the same fluid motion she leapt up and lunged forward, holding her staff to its full length and brought it down on to the back of the soldier who was clutching the side of his jaw with a hand and bending down in the action of retrieving his staff with the other.  The thwack of the staff hitting the soldier on his back resounded across the silent arena. Paavai pulled back her staff and stood still, holding it at the ready, still facing the soldier, her back to the Prince and his general.

The crowd that had fallen silent only a moment ago, for it had not been more than that, erupted in thunderous cheers. The soldiers who had been watching with a cocky assurance, froze to their spots at the sudden turn in fortune of their brother-in-arms. In a non-combative demonstration, touching the opponent’s body with your staff was an undisputed sign of victory that everyone knew and understood. The soldier, more stunned at the unexpected attack than from the blow on his back, turned around and looked at Paavai for a long moment. He then walked over to her, his staff at his side in the resting position and bowed to Paavai, acknowledging her victory. The crowd cheered even more vociferously. Paavai returned the bow to her opponent, in a sign of acknowledgement and gratitude and turned and bowed to the Prince.

Sembuli walked over to the center of the ring and stood by his student, unable to control the trepidation he was feeling in his heart. An almost eleven-year-old girl had beaten one of Prince Rajendra’s soldiers. Though his student had won, he didn’t feel like a winner at that moment, for he dreaded the reaction of the Prince whose soldiers were known to be the fiercest in the kingdom. His eyes never left the Prince’s face as he walked forward and stood alongside Paavai.

Prince Rajendra stood up from his seat. The crowd fell silent immediately. Thiers had been an instinctive and emotional reaction to the obvious victory of Paavai, a child of their village. But as their eyes fell on Prince Rajendra, the ramifications of that victory struck everyone, instantly cutting off their joyous celebration. His reputation as a fierce warrior who prided himself on the valor and fighting skill of his army, would not allow him to take the defeat of his soldier lightly, everyone knew.

Prince Rajendra walked out towards the three who were standing waiting. He stood a little distance from them and looked at the people standing around. Their stony faces told him what they were feeling.

He looked at Paavai and his face relaxed in to a proud smile. “You are a born warrior, my child”, he said. “You are the pride of your parents, teacher and your village. And you will become the pride of the entire Chozha Empire”, he said in a voice loud enough to be heard by everyone. “I hereby announce Paavai as the victor of this demonstration”, he proclaimed in a loud voice and handed over a bag of gold coins to her. Paavai received it with both hands and bowed deep to him again. The crowd erupted again, having been given the official go-ahead by the Prince to celebrate the victory of Paavai.

Prince Rajendra raised his hand and the crowd fell silent instantly. “Some of you may be thinking that a soldier from Rajendra’s army was defeated by a young girl. And in so thinking you may give place to doubts as to the skills and fighting capabilities of the Chozha army. So to those of you who have such thoughts, I want to make one thing very clear to you. Paavai did not defeat a soldier of the Chozha army”, he said and paused to look around to see if he had everyone’s, especially his soldiers’ attention. He did. He continued in the same booming voice, “I say again – a young girl did not defeat a soldier of the Chozha army. A daughter defeated her father”, said the Prince and stopped. And as he uttered the words, the soldier removed the cloth that had covered his face and showed himself to Sembuli first and Paavai next.

It took a few moments for the Prince’s words to seep into the consciousness of the crowd and a few more moments for the crowd to recognize Varamban. And when they did, the crowd erupted once again, the cheers and shouts so loud as to deafen the eardrums. Sembuli embraced his brother-in-law, whom he had not seen since the day he had handed over his new-born daughter to him and had walked out without looking back. And Paavai, who had never seen her biological father before, touched his feet in a gesture of seeking his blessings. Varamban blessed her and lifted her up and made her stand close to him and the three of them bowed to the Prince once again.