‘Her hair was the talk of the town. People would come from far-off towns to admire her locks.

‘One day, she sat on her cot combing her hair after a wash. Suddenly there was uproar in the streets. Street dogs were barking loudly. This was followed by seven or eight soldiers barging into their backyard, where they normally bathed, on horseback. When the family saw that they were Muslims, they tried running into the house to hide. Thulasi wasn’t able to keep pace with them. When she tried to evade the soldiers, she tripped on her hair and fell to the ground. When her family saw what had happened, they ran out again to save her.

‘The mother could not speak any more. She was choked. Her lips quivered and her eyes brimmed over.

‘She continued, “My daughter Thulasi was calling aloud the names of all our honourable goddesses, trembling in fear. We repeated them after her, without thinking. This was when the miracle happened, within a blink of an eye.

‘“One brutal soldier held down my daughter by her hair. At that moment, the ground beneath her split open, swallowed her and closed again.

‘“The army trembled at this sight. The one who was still grabbing my daughter’s hair dropped it. They jumped on their horses and fled from the house.

‘“On the ground we could see only a long crack. We bent down and yelled out: Thulasi … my dear Thulasi!” The mother wiped her soaked eyes and continued, “How will my Thulasi come back? Mother Earth has called her to her arms. My daughter is now one with the gods.

‘“This box contains the hair that the Muslim soldier dropped and a bit of the sacred soil from that spot. We never place it on the ground. We take turns to carry it. At whichever spot we select to reside permanently, we will build a temple for her …” The mother blew her nose into her pallu.’

That day Ammal did not move at all. She sat still, like a statue. She refused even a drop of water.

‘Govindappa, like we worship the palm box and cane in the temple of our clan, Pottiammal, similarly in their town, which is just five stones away, they pray to the box that contains the hair,’ finished Mangaiathaar Ammal, still sounding awestruck.

Though the entire family, men, women and children, were all ears for Mangaiathaar Ammal’s stories, Akkayya alone thought they were exaggerated and too fantastic to be believed.

14

THE NIGHT THAT OORKUDUMBAN CAME with the news that we were going to be invaded by torch-bearing dacoits, Govindappa Nayakkar asked the opinion of Akkayya, who had just walked in.

‘Torch-bearing dacoits, oh sure let them come. We’ll give them a good reception,’ responded Akkayya, with enthusiasm. His breezy attitude soon caught on to the rest too.

‘If they come after dinner, do you say we should serve them dessert? Do you?’ asked Govindappa Nayakkar with a laugh.

Torch-bearing dacoits follow several war-like strategies during their attacks. They usually spread rumours for days that they are to attack a particular village which keeps the villagers on tenterhooks and sleepless. Just as the people decide that it was only a rumour and relax, the dacoits raid them.