It took more than a fork and a thong to bring it to the temple’s doorstep. It would not rest. They tethered it to a pole. Within a second, it broke loose from the rope and ran amok. The young men risked their lives to jump on its back, calmed it down and dragged it into a house and shut the main door made of sticks. By then it was quite dark.

Every child and every toothless elder was jubilant that day. Some were even flying high. Pothanna too smiled, contented.

19

THE NEXT DAY, AT DAWN.

Many had woken up even before the birds. One took a lit log from the fire pit and went to take a look at the pregnant cow locked in the house. He called out, ecstatic. The others gathered around. They watched the mother cow licking the calf clean.

‘No more will this cow run off into the forest,’ announced the grandmother. ‘We have to take care of the calf.’

‘Govindappa,’ said Mangaiathaar Ammal, ‘Mahalakshmi came to us along with that cow. Since then we have had plenty of cows. We even named our village Gopalla because of these cows.’

The calf took well to the human folk.

On the other hand, the cow was very restless. It banged against the mud walls with its horns, its ears perked up. At those times it was even risky to feed it. One had to fling its grass in from afar.

Even as they watched, the calf bull was fed all it wanted and grew fat.

Only Naggaih, a brave young man, found the courage to approach the cow. Somehow, it came to like his scent and never attacked him.

The isolated isle they planned was not as small as they had imagined. The avarice of the farmers for more land to till overtook them. The path on the four sides was quite broad. A wind was blowing heavily high up, as they had hoped.

Though the breeze was strong, they made sure the fire did not spring to the next thicket. They picked an auspicious day to start the fire. It was decided that the first flame would be lit at high noon.

They piled the dried shrubs in the south-west corner and scattered the neem seed and the castor seeds the children had gathered. Then they brought the lit logs from the fire pit. Before they lit the fire, the grandmother called out, ‘Oh angels of the forest, woodland deities, you must protect us from any repercussions of this act of ours.’

They lit the fire together. The oil seed spluttered in the heat. The fire grew high, its tongue thick, teeth gnashing with rage. The high wind helped the flames to rise up. The god of fire fed well of the thicket.

The shrub fire raged for three days and three nights. The small thicket that they had isolated burned down. Strange creatures rushed out of the fire, fearing the heat.

A silver serpent, thick as an arm and a foot long, slithered out. They had never seen a snake this gleaming. Nor had they heard of one. They gaped at it, with eyes wide open. Not a peep from anyone. It flashed past them like a streak of lightning.