There was yet another reason why some men wore a beard. In this community monogamy is an exception, not a rule. Men generally had at least two wives. In fact a man with only one wife was derided.

Sometimes a man with a single wife would remarry when the first wife passed away. At other times those who could not forget their late wives would begin to grow a beard.

Had Engatrayalu wanted to marry, he could have. But he claimed his horoscope stated clearly that he would never be married.

Rayalu also had a few distinctive characteristics which he demonstrated very rarely. He could guess a person’s zodiac sign by the way they sat.

Once during a long journey by foot, he had to take shelter in a choultry for the night. Outside the choultry there were some people sitting on the thinnai. Rayalu looked at Akkayya and said softly, ‘Brother, I know you don’t believe in astrology. But I challenge you. I can guess the zodiac signs of each one of those men on the thinnai.’

‘Is that right? Well go ahead, let’s see,’ challenged Akkayya.

Rayala looked intently at the posture of those sitting and called out not just their zodiac signs, but also their birth stars.

The people on the thinnai were indeed seated weirdly—one sat with his legs tucked under his thighs, left hand planted on the floor and the right fist firm on his waist; another leaned against the wall, his knees up, his arms hugging them, and his feet raised at least four inches above the ground; yet another with his fingers linked at the nape of his neck, and legs stretched out, his left foot over his right foot; one with the right knee raised, his left foot stretched out and his left hand gently resting on the knee; and one who hugged his knees and rocked back and fro.

And so each one sat in a unique posture; no two sat alike. Only five in that gathering knew what their zodiac signs were and they fully agreed with Engatrayalu’s guess.

23

ONCE WHEN ASTROLOGY ENGATRAYALU AND Akkayya had gone out of town and were returning, the sun had gone down. Had they tried a little harder they could have made it time. But Engatrayalu was tired. They rested in the thinnai of some house and fell asleep. It was midnight when they were awakened by drumbeats.

Akkayya saw a bride being welcomed. ‘Anna, look,’ he said. Engatrayalu got up and looked, but when he saw the bride, his face paled. ‘What a life is this, Akkayya!’ he said, and flopped back down on the thinnai.

‘Why? What happened?’ inquired Akkayya. Engatrayalu shook his head, but didn’t utter a word till Akkayya insisted. ‘It is a corpse being brought in.’ Not a word more!

Three days later, the wedding wasn’t even completed—in those days the ceremony went on for five days. The bride died of a snake bite. We heard of it only through the grapevine.