Thambi’s transformation brought an astounding vitality to the whole area. The women of the land had been terrified of him although he had never taken out his thuggery on them. Mothers had been reluctant to send their daughters to the government school across the forest, and had refused to let them go out of the house in the dark nights even to urinate. But now, hugging bundles of schoolbooks to their chests, young girls were seen walking along the lanes. People were out and about even after sunset, and bullock carts loaded with agricultural produce went trundling down to Thodupuzha with no fear of hooligans. Eventually, the tarmacked road, with its buses and jeeps, extended into Kaliyaar and beyond, and Vannappuram became a new town. The two men who sat in the club chatting about Thambi were also affected by the changes. The first man went down the hills to Ernakulam and set up a small business which rapidly expanded, while the second came up the hills with his buses that plied all across the High Range routes.

‘Do people really understand the far-reaching consequences of that incident?’ the second man asked. Each time they got together, they discussed these events with a renewed sense of awe.

‘Whatever happened to Thambichettan on that fateful day truly changed this land. If not, where would we be today? Kaliyaar town would still be terrorized by elephants and wild cats.’

As they had planned beforehand, they got up quietly and moved towards the table where Thambi sat alone. He was not wealthy or prominent enough to be a member of the club, but he visited it every evening, and sat nursing his drink—just the two pegs—for a couple of hours. The bar staff stocked Men’s Club, a brand of brandy that not many people drank, just for him.

‘Thambichetta, may we join you?’ the second man asked. The residual terror from their childhoods, when this man was in the golden age of his thuggery, settled around them like fog. Deep within their hearts, they nursed the belief that the calmness of such men was not to be trusted. The first man remembered a dream from his childhood, of walking up to a sleeping wild animal to see it in close proximity.

‘I still remember how you jumped down from the platform on top of that tree,’ he said.

‘And you floored that policeman with one blow,’ said the second man. He poured liquor into a glass and placed it in front of Thambi.

‘I don’t drink much these days, boys,’ Thambi said, ignoring the talk about his past. He had a small paunch and his hair was beginning to grey, but he still looked as strong as he had always been. ‘Still, since you ask so nicely . . .’ he said and picked up the glass. ‘Who knows, I might have to beg you all for a drink in the future . . .’

When Thambi got up and went to the toilet, the second man quickly topped up his glass. They got back to the subject as soon as he came back.