True, his intentions were evil, but the outcome was a wonder and so the folk of the village forgave his deed. The only punishment laid on him was to bear the cost of the oil for the temple lamps for the next month.

This method of ploughing wasn’t Bangaru Nayakkar’s own invention. But that action of his became manna from heaven for karisal kaadu.

The one on his right with the huge turban is Herbal Doctor Manjayya, constantly hunting for herbs—a man who never looks up when he walks. He knows every plant that grows in this area. There is no leaf that he can’t identify. He noses around for a new tree bark, root, flower, fruit or leaf.

He can predict the ailments that would follow that year by the plants that have flourished. Each herb had a specific day associated with it, even a particular time of the day. Some even had a specific direction from which you could pluck them, and some where you had to chant a prayer before plucking.

Every Saturday you could see him roaming around Guru Malai, hunting for his herbs. He calls Guru Malai ‘Sanjeevi Malai’—even the air around it is healing.

‘When Hanuman flew over this region with the Sanjeevi Mountain,’ said Manjayya, ‘a piece fell off and became our Guru Malai. Siddars used to come here for the herbs. Even today there are several Siddars living on it, unknown to us. Once, when a hunter was travelling across this mount, he was hurt and was bleeding. He snatched leaves from the bushes to wipe the wound. When he came down the hill, the wound had disappeared. One of the leaves he had wiped the wound with was the Sanjeevi herb, and he did not notice it.

‘The next day, he wounded himself and went to the mount to hunt for that leaf. He plucked several leaves and wiped his wound, but couldn’t find that herb.

‘Sanjeevi Mount abounds with such herbs even today, and will be there tomorrow too,’ said Manjayya.

It is a pleasure to have him feel your pulse. He does not go for your wrist at once. He gently massages your hand, snaps each finger, then flexes them a couple of times and then goes for your pulse. Men and women flock to him for this experience. He begins with the right for a man and the left for a woman. But he checks both the wrists before making his diagnosis.

After feeling the pulse, he knocks on the floor with his right forefinger thrice, then hums—he has a sweet voice—the songs about the five elements, which alter the three humours. The cure comes as a song as well. He covers a lower-caste person’s wrist with a silk cloth before reading the pulse. He never asks a person what the problem is; instead he reads the pulse and calls out the illness.

Unlike other herbal doctors he does not torture the patient with long-term salt-free diets. If the person has to go off salt, he gives them a special powder. Adding a pinch of it to the food will substitute for the salt.