Karttikeya Tries Again to Woo Valli

Check out the theme here: A Retelling of Valli and Karttikeya’s Love Story

This post is a part of BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026.

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A new day dawned in Merpati. Valli woke up early as always, took a bath, and donned a yellow saree. She sat in front of the altar and prayed to Murugan, Shiva, Parvati, and Ganesha. She lit the earthen lamp and decorated the murtis with flowers collected by her brother. Valli left a few flowers for her mother, so that she, too, could complete her Pooja of Parvati Devi a while later.

“Valli, prasadam is ready. Come,” Mangai called from the kitchen, which was at the back of the house. They kept the back door and a large window open to let the smoke from the wooden stove escape outside.

“Coming, Amma!”

Valli returned to the altar with a bowl of hot millet porridge. Once she offered it to the devas, she divided it into six portions and transferred them into six other bowls. As her mother started her pooja, Valli topped the porridge with more of it from the large vessel in the kitchen and placed steamed sweet potato roots on the sides.

“Appa, time to eat!”

Her father and brothers dressed for the day, ready to leave for work in a few minutes. They bowed to the devas for a minute and sat down to have the first meal of the day. The family ate together and went their ways, except for Mangai, who stayed back home to prepare lunch and meet with the other women to plan the upcoming harvest.

Valli’s youngest brother accompanied her to the field and went to the neighbor’s farm to help with something. Though the families worked on their own farms, they often helped each other.

Skanda had been waiting for Valli, having arrived at her farm early in the morning. He was still in the hunter’s disguise. His heart filled at the sight of her. She looked like a sunflower, he thought, vibrant and full of life.

“Hope you are well this morning, devi,” he greeted her with a smile.

Valli was surprised to see him still on her farm. “What are you doing here?” She demanded. While she wasn’t a rude person, she also didn’t want to be polite to someone who proposed to her, a mere stranger.

“I’ll be here for a few days and thought I could help you with some farm work,” he replied.

“Ask at the next farm. My brother went to help,” she replied, and ignored him after that.

Valli began her daily ritual of wiping her little Skanda’s murti with a wet cloth, collecting flowers to weave a garland, and gathering berries to offer to him. She also cleaned the place under the thatched roof, looked for weeds among the crops, and inspected the plants for insects or diseases.

Skanda observed her, not moving from the farm but also not getting in her way. He heard her humming softly to herself. She had a low and melodious voice. Like amrita, he thought, sweeter than ambrosia. He recognized a few songs as the ones devotees often sang in praise of his parents. He then tried to help her. Human work wasn’t something he had ever done, but he was a deva. It didn’t take him more than one attempt to learn and master anything he tried.

“Why do you want to marry Skanda?” he asked.

“Because I love him,” Valli replied as if it were something he should have already known.

“But why do you love him? Is it because he is a deva?”

Valli shrugged. “Why does anyone love the sun or the moon? Why do we love rain in monsoons? Why do we love flowers in spring? Should there be a reason for it? He is our protector. He keeps us safe and gives us everything we ask for. Skanda is kind to everyone who asks for his blessings and destroys those who trouble good people. How can I not love him?”

Skanda was impressed with her answer, but also wanted to know more. “In that case, many people love him and might want to marry him.”

“Yes, they might,” she agreed, clearing the clog from the narrow water channel.

“Would he have to marry all those women then?”

“I know only about myself. Either I marry him or no one else,” Valli declared.