A mother stands on the road and calls aloud to her child, by its name.

Pots are filled at the common well. There are loud exchanges as they change hands.

A young lad lounges on an open cart, parked along the lane, brushing his teeth with a neem stick, ogling at the women at the well.

Cotton seeds are ground in the grinding stone, in the backyards.

The village is bathed in the orange glow of the early morning sun.

The children begin the game of the day, while the elders go about their daily chores.

The Kottaiyar house is the only one that has two floors. The name was not because they have a kottai or fort and rule the place, but because the house has a tall compound wall. And so, the villagers and those in neighbouring towns call the family Kottaiyar.

There was a time when they were wealthy. But today, the house and its compound wall stand dilapidated, like relics of history. The stone and mud house has turned black. It turns blacker during the monsoon. The compound wall built with mere clay is now velvety green with moss.

The first floor is unoccupied. Wild pigeons take shelter there. The Kottaiyars do not mind, for if they were to have a sudden visitor, there is always a fat pigeon for the feast.

Ages ago the compound was full of tall trees. They have been felled for firewood.

Even today the people of the village walk through that lane as humbly as possible. They can see the folk of the Kottaiyar house with their sunken stomachs, skeletal waists and hungry eyes, gazing vacantly.

Sure they are down, but it does not look as if they are out! They may slump inside the house. But when a stranger walks in, they puff their chests up, widen their nostrils slightly and walk with bold, resounding steps.

Above the front door are etched the symbols of Vishnu—the conch, disc and naamam.

Beyond the front yard is a long veranda with a thinnai. On the left of it is a huge six-foot-tall cupboard, with two wide wooden doors, on which are etched in brass, a conch, a disc and a naamam. Once upon a time, the cupboard held priceless gems and jewels. Today it carries farming tools wrapped in buffalo skin to prevent rats from gnawing them.

In front of the main entrance, the eldest man of the household, Maniam Arasappa Nayakkar, sits straight, not leaning back against the stone pillar. He sat there early in the morning, and has continued to do so until high noon. He can manage to sit erect and still from dawn to dusk.

Every day, without fail, disputes from this village and the neighbouring ones come to him for arbitration.

The usual kinds of cases that come for the panchayat in a village are situations that the village solves unanimously and instances that can be solved by the influential people of the area.

Brokerage, prestige, security, obstinacy, communal or caste disharmony, distribution of yield, arson, labour riots and other sundry disputes were always solved by the elders arriving at unanimous decisions.