Right outside the city corporation grounds were vendors who had targeted the fitness mania of the walkers and sold various health products ...
Right outside the city corporation grounds were vendors who had targeted the fitness mania of the walkers and sold various health products – Bermuda grass juice, aloe vera squash, buffalo milk, peppermint infusion, essence of spinach, foxtail millet laddoos, kozhukattai, mung bean balls, mango rice cake, chickpea rolls, coconut flatbread and banana flower vadais. Each stall drew its faithful.
Kumarasurar was no patron of the stalls. He, along with others who dismissed these health foods as opportunistic businesses, gathered at Gluttony Vilas. The shack had no name board, but had been christened by its customers.
This was a favourite gossip spot. Asuras liked scheming while eating or drinking. Even if Kumarasurar secreted himself away in a corner, his fellow customers wouldn’t leave him alone. Someone would approach him with a strangely authoritative request like, “Sir, this gentleman is retiring from our office this week. We need a poem to felicitate him. Write one, won’t you?”
Kumarasurar had a reputation as a poet.
He took great pride in this, and never turned down such requests. He would write a short poem overnight and hand it over the very next day. His poetic style followed this pattern:
You tireless scion, bullion who was forged in a golden ore
Fearless lion who served the...
