‘As we proceeded farther south, we were much calmer.

‘Our feet were sore and bleeding with our long trek. We had already lost two sick children and three elders. We were dispirited by these losses. A hunger that we had never known before, not finding food at the right time, tiredness and weariness, irritation with our loved ones, uncomfortable silences, and constant bickering … there seemed no end to our troubles.

‘One of the families left us midway, after a quarrel. We were unable to make peace. The foliage was different from what we were familiar with. What strange flowers and fragrances! Perhaps people were unique from soil to soil; even the cows. Unfamiliar tongues, but kind words … Tamil soil was going to become our land soon!

‘One day, while still on our march, we halted at a choultry. It was too crowded so we decided to break for a few days at a grove near by. There was a group already there, just setting off as we came in. They too had a palm box, with a lid, covered in a yellow cloth. My aunt wanted to know what it was. The woman of that family was about my aunt’s age; but her hair was chalk-white. Though her face was covered with turmeric and she had a huge pottu, she looked distressed.

‘She did not reply immediately; instead she glared at us doubtfully. That look had so many meanings: who are you? Can I trust you? You sinners, you have racked up my pain again! How do I put it in words? Still, she seemed to gather some courage—of course, they are my people. I can speak to them, with no fear. How else am I to reduce my sorrow? Why should I doubt everyone I come across?

‘Govindappa, hers was yet another Muslim raja tale. That woman had a daughter named Thulasi, who had curly hair like clusters of manila tamarind. The girl loved her hair very much. It looked beautiful, whether she left it loose or tied it in a bun. It was splendid no matter what she did with it. It was amazing when it was ruffled too. It swept the floor when she stood up. Her mother had to chop it several times when it grew to below her ankles. The girl hated that. Bathing her involved the entire family. They would seat her on a long, tall, woven palm cot, at the head. Her hair was spread all over the cot. It would take ages to massage it with coconut oil. The next step was to boil soapnut, strain it, wash her hair with it and then to rinse it all over again with cool, clean water. After that her hair would be wiped clean, and dried with frankincense smoke. Then, her hair was combed to rid it of knots.

‘When she was in her teens, her hair was actually sixteen feet in length. Her father wanted to build a high chair with a ladder, where she would sit so that her hair could be combed.