POEM FROM TAMIL LITERATURE - THE BATTLE OF VIRTUE

ABOUT THE POEM:The poem THE BATTLE OF VIRTUE narrates a tragic yet glorious battle between the mighty Chola and Chera kings, fought not for conquest or greed but as a “war of virtue.” After their brave soldiers fell, both kings themselves met their end on the battlefield, leaving behind a haunting scene of silence and sacrifice.As the dust of war settled, ghostly women—symbolic of war spirits—smeared their foreheads with the blood of the fallen, while vultures fed upon the slain warriors. The death-drums were beaten not to summon courage but to lull the dying into eternal sleep. The widows of the fallen heroes, refusing to adorn themselves or live on in mourning, purified themselves in cold waters and joined their husbands in death, choosing honor and union in the afterlife over earthly existence.The poet reflects that such valorous souls were welcomed into heaven’s banquet, where their glory would never fade. The poem closes on a note of deep admiration and lament — wondering what will become of the land now emptied of its brave hearts, yet blessing it with a wish that their immortal fame should continue to bloom forever. In essence, the poem celebrates heroic death, virtuous warfare and undying honor, blending grandeur, grief and reverence — a timeless echo of Tamil Sangam valor.THE BATTLE OF VIRTUEWhen valiant soldiers perished, fierce and bold,Then Chola fought the Chera on the field,A war of virtue — not for crown or gold.Their banners fell, their drums no more did peal;Both mighty kings lay lifeless midst the fray,And silence cloaked the plain with mournful zeal.The ghostly dames in crimson danced that day,Anointing brows with blood in savage trance,Where vultures fed on flesh of brave decay.The death-drums rolled — a dirge for souls’ last dance,To lull the wounded heroes into rest;Their widows bathed in streams, pale as romance.With hands unpainted, grief within each breast,They sought their lords through fire’s eternal door;Thus valor’s feast in heaven was confessed.What fate for lands bereft of such great lore?Their fields lie mute, yet whisper still their claim—Let glory bloom for those of deathless valor.PURANANURU - 62POET: KAZHATHTHALAIYARPATRONS: CHERAMAN KUDAKKO NEDUNCHERALADAN &CHOLAN VERPARATAK KILLI, THE MIGHTY WIELDER OF THE SPEAR