Usually, one nut is sufficient; some, strangely, may want two.

He counted out five nuts and placed them in front of him. Then, he arranged half a bunch of betel leaves, sunnam and white tobacco.

First, he tucked in three of the nuts. He’d never take the betel leaf, one by one, and smear the sunnam. He would always take three of them, spread the sunnam, fold them tight, and tuck the wad in his mouth and crunch on them so that his jaw bones would stand up sharp next to his ears. When he spat out the juice, not budging an inch, it would travel a distance without splattering anything in between. And so, he would polish off half a bunch of betel leaves and five areca nuts.

‘Do you know why betel leaf chewers spit it out?’ he’d ask. ‘Only so they can go for a refill.’

He spat through two fingers of his left hand and got ready for the third round. One could have ten rounds, but only once would the combination be right. One had to keep trying for that one chance. When it was right, the leaf would burst in the mouth. Now that taste was remarkable.

Govindappa Nayakkar extended his hand into the arecanut box. He shut his eyes and gathered the nuts. He wanted to pick just five of them. He felt his palm and counted. Chee, this is not right! he chided himself. That was when he felt someone’s presence. Do I pick the nuts and then open my eyes, or do I do so now? he wondered. But, unconsciously, his eyes opened.

When he saw his younger brother standing in front of him with a blood-soaked dagger he was worried.

Krishnappa Nayakkar quickly reported the events.

Govindappa Nayakkar immediately ordered Oorkudumban to rush to the spot with his slingshot. He always wore his veshti high on his chest.

‘Oorkudumban, we don’t yet know if he is operating on his own or belongs to a gang. First, make sure he does not escape. And then take care that the goldsmith in his anger does not do him any harm. Run, we’ll follow you right away.’

Kudumban took out his slingshot. The moment he held it in his hand, he became unrecognizable. The goddess of bravery smiled from his face. One would even wonder if this was the same chap who had been standing there humbly.

Those were the days when guns were not yet in fashion. And his prowess with the slingshot is worth writing about. The pinnacle was when he could aim at a mere sound and slay his prey. Not even a racing rabbit could escape his aim. When he took a shot at a wild boar, he would call out exactly the body part that he was aiming at. And his aim was always right. He’d demonstrate by felling flying birds. One had to actually see to believe his talent.

He could bring down anything, be it a grain of rice or a coconut. He could make the stone sing as it left his slingshot or he could aim so that the victim would never know what knocked him out.