That was when he first saw Saroja, shining in the sunlight like a heavenly maiden.

FOUR

A few days after they arrived in Kattuppatti, Saroja sat for a long time in the shade of the neem tree, staring at the winding path that led away from the rock. Kumaresan hadn’t returned yet. It was midday, and the sun glowered overhead. Her mother-in-law had gone somewhere, herding the goats. There was no telling when she would return. Hoping that Marayi would say something to her before leaving with the goats, Saroja had walked up to the end of the rock. But the other woman had stayed resolutely silent; she did not even turn to look at her. Saroja had waited alone, standing in the sun’s glare. And now she could not recollect how she had found her way to the shade of the neem tree.

The only thing she found comforting about this place was the rock. Her feet were accustomed to plain ground and concrete floors. She had never set her bare feet on a rock before. It touched her with the combined sensation of Kumaresan’s soft hands and his rough embrace, the memory of which made her shiver with pleasure every time she walked on the rock’s surface. But she had to be cautious. Even a slight stumble and her toenails might get wrenched out, or she might fall face first. Eventually, she got used to walking barefoot on the rock. Like a child learning to walk, she carefully placed one foot in front of another. Then she tried it with her slippers on. It felt like she was constantly alternating between bumps and dips.

She remembered what her mother-in-law had said once while herding the goats away: ‘Your flower-soft feet might hurt themselves walking on the rock. Be careful.’ But Saroja could not tell if Marayi had been talking to her or to the goats because she had not turned towards her. She must have been speaking to the goats, Saroja concluded. And even if those words were meant for Saroja, it was probably best to think of them as having been intended for the goats. But since then she had not felt like walking on the rock. Instead, she sat a little distance from it, looking at its expanse.

Yesterday, Kumaresan had not gone anywhere. He had to present Saroja to all those who poured in from afar after hearing the news of the marriage. As if to impress upon them that he had not done anything wrong, he laughed and joked with everyone. Throughout, Marayi lay curled up on the cot in the cowshed, refusing to get up. Kumaresan took care of the goats and cows. He did most of the cooking too; Saroja helped. He also made a little bathing enclosure on the rock using old pieces of dried palm leaves held together with sticks and twigs that he gathered from the thorn-covered fences around the fields. He also cut and shaped new palm leaves with the jagged edge of palm fronds, and he wove them into a screen. To her, it seemed like his hands had just woven them by magic. It took him two hours. He kept talking to the visitors while he built it. He did not take anyone’s help even to put it up. Yet, suddenly, on a flat spot on the rock, there stood a bathing enclosure. It even had a thatched door. While he worked on it, Saroja had gazed raptly at his hands, at the sheer unpredictability of their movements.