He had hunted for this sapling and planted it here long ago; now it stood tall and thick. He loved having his first meal of the day here.

This was a special breed of curry leaf; like Indian basil and holy basil differ. Holy basil has red veins on the leaves and is more pungent whereas Indian basil is green and pleasant.

His wife brought a bowl of rice and thick curd. At the sight of her, the sparrows flew away. Immediately the air was filled with the aroma of curry leaf. They both inhaled deeply.

Seeni Nayakkar had a special pastime; he spent all his day doing things for others, and found great pleasure in it.

He wove different ropes from coir—ropes with which to tie things with, thread things, draw water, plough fields, or ride a cart.

He’d soak the fibre in water and remove the flax thread before spinning it into ropes. He would also collect the leftover cotton from the weavers and with it make araingyan threads for men and thalis for women.

He would tie special knots in the ropes and threads he made and none but he could unknot them. He could also make special patterns as he wove.

He could thread strands of hair into neck ropes; almost all the bulls in the village wore ropes he had spun.

He’d sit at noon, along the canal, with one end of the rope tied to the root of a tree, as he twisted it tight from the other end. Once tight, he’d make three parts and then plait them together tightly. Each strand of the braid would weave left and right deftly, like the slick footsteps of a martial artist.

This nonstop weaving resulted in calloused palms but taut muscles.

Once the sparrows flew away, Seeni breathed in the aroma of the curry leaves and started to eat. Next to the bowl of rice was a small dish with coriander chutney. He loved it and could taste it through the day. It was delicious with the rice and fresh curd!

Fresh curd meant it was not sour yet, just beginning to set. Engachchi was an expert at setting curd. She would wait till the milk was tepid and just right, then set a separate bowl for her husband, pour the milk, dip her forefinger to the second line in the buttermilk pot, shake the excess off and then dip it into the milk. Next morning the milk would have set into thick fresh curd.

There is a technique to boiling milk too, and Engachchi knew that as well. She was an expert chef and her cuisine had a special taste.

She was the one the Kottaiyar house sought to cook on special occasions. Even if she were to drop in there casually, she got a royal welcome. The women were ever ready with queries about recipes. What can one say? There is a proverb that goes thus: Those who do cannot explain; and those that explain cannot do.