As the night wore on, people began to leave the deceased’s house. Some left because there was nothing they could do. Others felt obliged to stay on, and then stepped outside as though to take care of something urgent, and promptly went home and slept. Madhavan’s son Vijayan walked into the yard and looked around for Sankunniyaasan. His presence was as uncomfortable to Vijayan as it had been to the deceased. But there he was, sitting under the tarpaulin awning, sipping the black coffee brought over by a neighbour and chatting with some others.

‘Have some,’ he said to the person sitting next to him. ‘Will keep you awake.’

It was late when Sankunniyaasan’s son arrived. After viewing the body and paying his respects, he said something to the dead man’s son, and walked up to Sankunniyaasan. Together, they moved to a corner of the awning, away from prying ears.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked his father. There was alcohol on his breath. ‘Go home, why don’t you?’

‘Well, how can I? If I didn’t come, people would blame me. And now that I am here, that too is to blame?’ Sankunniyaasan was angry.

His son grabbed his arm and twisted it. ‘You old scoundrel! Everyone knows what you’re up to,’ he said and stomped off in a huff.

Things quietened again after the few latecomers left. Sankunniyaasan was alone in the yard. Occasional sobs and sighs could be heard from the room where the dead body was laid out. A heavy rain fell in the thick darkness and water flowed into the yard. Sankunniyaasan looked at where the yard joined the compound, and thought if he stoked up the mud there, he could stop the water from entering the yard. No one was around, so he searched for a spade in the dark corners behind the house. The dampness closed up his throat, and he stood leaning on a pillar and lit a beedi. The veranda, used to store useless items, appeared and disappeared in the meagre light of his beedi as he sucked at it until, as he took a last puff, it was put out by a droplet of rain that fell with precision on its glowing end.

A sound attracted his attention and he walked to the back of the house. In the sheet-roofed part of the backyard, four or five young men sat drinking alcohol. He stood there for a while like a shadow separated from its body, but they paid him no attention. He could not make out what they were saying or laughing about. Only as he turned away did one of them call out, ‘Want a drink, Grandad?’

Back under the awning, he sat watching the rain die down. Soon, the backyard too was plunged into silence, leaving only the faint breeze and the buzz of night-time critters. He dozed off, only for a moment, but when he opened his eyes, he felt as though he had been asleep for a very long time. He scrambled up anxiously and walked to the room where the dead body was laid out. The dead man’s wife was asleep on the floor beside the bed. She seemed to be sobbing in her sleep. There was no one else around.