‘Hello, young girls … come here,’ he called to them.

The girls were shocked and looked at the guards in fear. They had assumed he would be dead by now. At his words some ran away, scared. But curiosity took over. Apprehensively they glanced at each other and approached him, eager to see his face!

Chithayya, one of the guards, asked him, kindly, ‘Is there anyone you want to see before you die? Tell me quickly, I’ll go fetch them.’

The care and affection evident in those words touched the murderer. Rivers of tears rolled down his face. As he couldn’t move his hands or his head, he squeezed his eyes tight to get rid of the tears and then tried to smile gently at Chithayya. But his lips and cheeks trembled and refused to break into a smile.

He attempted to say something. He struggled to clear his throat. He realized that he’d be dead soon.

‘Oh, girls, please come here,’ he said.

The girls were both curious and scared. They looked at the guards. Chithayya called out, ‘Children, don’t be scared. Come here. We are with you.’

The girls came closer, hesitantly.

He could see them when they were under the stake. He spoke to the eldest of those girls. ‘My dear child, I am going to die. I am unable to bear the pain. Will you clap your hands, go around the pole, and perform a kummi and sing a devotional song, please?’

They dithered a bit, but the guards encouraged them. They agreed, put the half-filled palm boxes on the ground, and began to sing and clap.

It was a song sung in the Mariamman temple on the day when flour-lamps were lit. The girls gave their own lisping turn to it.

At the Mariamman temple
There are
Hundreds of flour lamps
Hundreds of young women
Women who can clap and sing
There are a hundred
There are a hundred

Mari was born in a great land
People were born in the Kanji forest
Muthumari, bless those
Born in the Kanji forest

We made rice on the river banks
Fried broad beans
Smeared turmeric and lit lamps
Look at the glory Muthumari

Did you see the girl grow
Hear about her growing into a woman
All of us are chaste women
Come clap and sing

29

WHO KNOWS IF HE ENJOYED the song, or even heard the lyrics. But it was true that the energetic chorus moved him. His groans were reduced to murmurs. In his mind’s eye shone the courageous image of Kali. He then thought of the men of his community, men who were forever doubled up and slogging away.

His mother had often cursed him. ‘You sinner, have you no mercy? I ground myself like sandalwood to raise you. And here you are slapping your own mother.’

He first began to steal at home. When he grew to be a teen, he didn’t go to the fields to work like the others. Instead he lazed around and roamed the streets.