Everyone in town recognized the nightly resounding clattering of iron. Every day, Kuresha, the town’s richest and most generous man, opened up the gates of his mansion and allowed—no, encouraged—anyone from town to come and take anything they wanted. After sunset, he would shut his iron gate with an ear-splitting bang heard through all of…
Her mother-in-law rolled her eyes. “Oh, really? It’s scary, huh?” she asked, feigning sympathy. “Too bad, because who else do you expect to do it? Me?” She giggled as if the mere thought of it was outrageous. “Now, stop talking and get going to the lake. The water is not going to fetch itself, you know? If you hate household work so much, your poor old father should have sent a servant along when he married you off. Oh! I forgot! He can’t afford one, can he?”
Stars glistened in the dark but clear sky and were positioned auspiciously. All the other planets and celestial objects steadily moved with tranquility. Mother Earth proudly continued adorning her ornaments of towns, villages, fields, and forests. Buoyant songbirds and susurrus bees buzzed and twittered with joy as they were caressed by an aromatic zephyr. Every lake was brimming with water, and every tree wore lush green leaves. All of nature was at its best.
Ramanuja’s intense desire to meet the blessed Goshti Purna was growing by the day.
“You know, I can quite confidently say that there is no other Srivaishnava equal to him,” Ramanuja’s acharya Maha Purna had told him. “He is the only one who knows the secret and powerful Vaishnava mantra. Seek him and serve him—if he is pleased, he may share it with you.”
Vishnuchitta was almost done stringing his garland. Making a beautiful flower garland for the Lord in the local Vatapatrashayi Temple in Srivilliputhur was his daily offering of love. All of a sudden, he heard the faint cry of a baby. He didn’t think much of it and simply headed toward the tulsi bush in his…
Ramanuja couldn’t wait to get to Srirangam. Kanchi Purna—a great devotee of Lord Varadaraja—was blessed with the good fortune of having daily conversations with the Lord. During one such conversation, Sriman Narayana himself in the form of Varadaraja had told him to instruct Ramanuja to go to Srirangam and seek out Maha Purna as his acharya.
Maha Purna had no time to waste. He had to get to the city of Kanchipuram as quickly as possible. Purna’s acharya—the esteemed Yamunacharya himself—had instructed him to bring some young man named Ramanuja to Srirangam.
In the simple town of Sriperumbudur, the house of Keshavacharya and Kantimati was lit up in celebration of their radiant newborn child. Kantimati’s brother Srishaila Purna, the direct disciple of Yamunacharya himself, came to adorn the baby boy with the name Ilayazhvan, who would later be revered as Bhagavad Ramanuja.
The words of his guru, Uyyakondar, reverberated in Manakkaal Nambi’s mind.
“My own guru, Nathamuni, has a grandson living in the Pandya kingdom,” Uyyakondar had said. “It is your duty to bring him back to our Srivaishnava fold when the time is right.”
Knock. Knock.
Yamuna was puzzled. His teacher Bhashyacharya was away, and all his classmates had gone home. He was the only student at the school. Who could be visiting at this inconvenient time?
He went forward and opened the door, anyway. The person on the other side glared at him.
