The silence of Valluvar’s wife

Thirukkural with the Times explores real-world lessons from the classic Tamil text ‘Thirukkural’. Written by Tamil poet and philosopher Thiruvalluvar, the Kural consists of 1,330 short couplets of seven words each. This text is divided into three books with teachings on virtue, wealth, and love and is considered one of the great works ever on ethics and morality. The Kural has influenced scholars and leaders across social, political, and philosophical spheres.Motivational speaker, author and diversity champion Bharathi Bhaskar explores the masterpiece.Vasuki, remembered as the wife of Thiruvalluvar, occupies a peculiar space in Tamil cultural memory. She is celebrated, quoted, and held up as an ideal of devotion. Yet the ground beneath her story is thin. That is perhaps what makes her story both compelling and uneasy.The Thirukkural says nothing about Valluvar’s personal life – a wife, a household, or family ties. Into this silence, later generations appear to have placed Vasuki — not merely as a companion, but as a perfect embodiment of obedience and virtue. Medieval and post-medieval commentaries, regional biographies and oral traditions and folk narratives do mention Valluvar’s wife Vasuki.According to later accounts, Vasuki was also known as Nagi, and was the daughter of Margaseyan, a farmer near Kaviripakkam, and his wife Ambujam. It is said that Margaseyan offered his daughter in marriage to Valluvar after the poet cured his diseased crops. Asked to cook a handful of sand, Vasuki is said to have turned it into rice.Stories about Vasuki are multifarious, but in all of them she is gentle, devoted, self-effacing. Legends say Valluvar and Vasuki had no children, though this is never stated directly. At the same time, one cannot help but notice that Valluvar writes movingly about the joy of children — even stating that the flute and the lute are not as sweet as the babble of one’s own child.In one well-known story, Valluvar asks Vasuki to place a toothpick and a bowl of water beside his plate each day. He never used either. Vasuki continued the practice without question. Only on her deathbed, it is said, did he explain that the toothpick and water were meant to save a fallen grain of rice, should it slip while she served. She had never given him the chance to use them. Relieved, Vasuki is said to have passed away peacefully.Perhaps these stories grew from Valluvar’s own concept of an ideal wife. The chapter titled ‘Vaazhkkai ThunaiNalam’ describes a perfect wife – one who worships her husband and sticks to societal norms. In Kural 58, he writes:Petraar Perinperuvar Pendir PerumsirappuPuthelir Vaazhum Ulagu.Women of noble virtue bring great honour to those who cherish them; they create a world where divine grace resides. Later retellings stretch this idea, turning virtue into silence and devotion into erasure.Another familiar episode sharpens this imbalance. When Valluvar calls out to Vasuki while she is drawing water from a well, she rushes to him, leaving the pail hanging mid-air; it remains suspended until she returns. The image is lyrical, almost divine. But beneath it lies an assumption made sacred: that a wife’s instant response is not just expected, but exalted.It is important to note that none of these demands are recorded as Valluvar’s own instructions. Over time, society seems to have placed its expectations upon his moral authority, turning ethical ideals into domestic rules.The stories rarely pause to ask a question. What did Vasuki want? Did she ever speak of her own hopes? Was her silence chosen — or assigned? The traditions do not tell us, perhaps because they were never meant to.Perhaps Vasuki deserves to be remembered, not as a flawless symbol, but as a mirror — reflecting how devotion is praised, how silence is sanctified, and how easily imagery can slip into erasure when stories are told without asking who is allowed to speak.