Saroja was filled with hatred at how her mother-in-law had completely changed her tone. Earlier, she had likened Saroja to an erukku shrub growing lushly on her son’s grave. What does she know about Saroja’s state, this plant that has been withering away since coming here? Does she know how lush and healthy this plant was elsewhere? Erukku shrub! Saroja wondered if she would ever forget those words. It was not as if she couldn’t think of words with which to retort. But she was putting up with all this because it was Kumaresan’s mother. Things would not stay this way forever, surely? And how much longer would this heat last? The rock absorbed all the heat during the day and then let it out at night. One couldn’t even step barefoot on it.

She could make out the sounds of Kumaresan parking the bicycle and washing his hands and feet, but she did not hear him entering the hut. Did he walk in like a cat? His breath brushed against her earlobe. ‘Have you run out of something? A vathichuppullu, perhaps?’ he whispered. But she could not laugh now. His levity only made her cry harder. He lifted her head and placed it on his lap, touching her face gently. She punched his chest with both her hands. He merely leaned back and accepted her punches. Finally, she just fell over and lay on his lap, face down, exhausted. She could do nothing about the copious tears that rolled down her cheeks or her whimpers that were getting louder. The thought that he was all she had left increased her affection for him. Who else could she bare her heart to?

She did not heed his words of consolation. She just kept repeating, ‘Let’s go back to Tholur. Even if you don’t want to live there, at least take me back to my house and leave me there.’ If she went back, would her father and brother reject her? Her father would just say, ‘What is this you have done?’ Her brother wouldn’t even ask that much.

She had stayed in a one-room house all these years. The sense of safety that room had given her was not something she could get from this wide open expanse. What could she find here? A ghostly darkness and a violent wind. And all day a heat that singed. How much time could she spend standing in the shade of the tree? She wanted to go back to her house in Tholur, shut and then latch its noisy tin door, and lie curled up on a mat there. That would protect her from everything. The moment she said, ‘Take me back and leave me at my place,’ Kumaresan touched her lips and stopped her from saying anything further. That warm touch chased away her misery.

‘She has not even lit the lamp!’ Marayi lashed out from her perch outside the hut. ‘And there you are, sitting down to caress and spoil her? Are you acting like a farmer? Nothing I say seems to have any effect. I don’t know what black magic she performed on you . . .’ She went on muttering angrily to herself in this vein. Perhaps she had expected Kumaresan to go into the hut and scold and hit Saroja for her behaviour. Her litany continued unabated: ‘If you spend all your time making love to a girl like this, I am sure this thatched hut will become a palace on its own, and a pauper will become a prince.’