She liked his plan; she had feared that he might ask her to go and stand with the village folk here. Even if one person said something, within minutes the entire village would become involved, escalating the matter into a public spectacle. From their hut, they could hear the sound of the distant drums intermittently. Perhaps this was for the kuravan-kurathi folk dance. It was as if the music stopped long enough for them to have a conversation and then resumed.

Saroja and Kumaresan started walking, pushing the bicycle with the plate resting on the rear carrier. They could hear Marayi murmuring to herself again as she lay on the cot on the rock. Saroja often wondered if her mother-­in-law would go beyond murmuring and ranting. But Kumaresan had laughingly told her, ‘Barking dogs seldom bite.’ She reminded herself of that now. But if someone stepped on the tail of a barking dog, wouldn’t it bite, she wondered? She shook her head to chase away these thoughts as they progressed on their journey. In the sky to the west, she spotted the moon, just a few feet from the ground, at level with her eyes. He kept talking to her all the way. She realized that he was talking incessantly to distract her from the looming darkness that she had not yet grown used to—a darkness that seemed to engulf them despite the moonlight.

Kumaresan explained that Chellakka had five daughters. She kept bearing children hoping for a boy, but that never happened. Usually, it was for the eldest daughter that maternal uncles went bearing plates of gifts, accompanied by music and drums, but her second and third daughters had attained puberty even before the first one had—a fact that worried Chellakka no end. It was only when the girl came of age at sixteen that Chellakka was relieved. Their plan was to first conduct the ceremony for the eldest daughter and follow it, on the same night, with ceremonies for the other two daughters who had attained puberty earlier. By now they had come quite close to the Pillayar temple in Molappalayam. And, lost in her enjoyment of the narration, Saroja no longer felt uncomfortable walking in the moonlit night.

They could see a flame torch and two Petromax lamps in front of the Pillayar temple. They could also hear the joyful voices of the people gathered there. One rose loud and clear: ‘It looks like it will be morning by the time people from the girls’ uncle’s family reach here. By then, they’ll probably just feed us leftover food.’

Recognizing that voice, Kumaresan said to her, ‘That is my eldest uncle.’