But he did not care what his mother was saying. ‘We will go to Tholur,’ he whispered in Saroja’s ears and held her in a tight embrace. ‘We have to. Do you think we’ll never visit my father-in-law’s house?’

After he lit the lamp, it was with great difficulty that he roused her from the cot and made her eat. She had not eaten since morning, but she was not hungry. Though she didn’t tell him this, he guessed. He also knew it was because his mother might have spoken cruelly to her. So he kept repeating just one thing to her: ‘For a few days, take off your ears and keep them aside. Put them back on only while talking to me . . . Everything will be all right.’

Did he think ears were like necklaces that she could just take off and keep hidden in the holes in the thatched walls of the hut? Her ears were accustomed to the constant hum of human activity, and now, here in this isolated village, they were beginning to yearn for those sounds. In the row of houses back home, there was never a dearth of chatter or noise. Whenever she stepped outside the house, there were always two or three people to ask how she was doing. Sometimes, even if she stayed inside the house, they would call out to her and chat with her. She could hear people talking all the time. But here it was rare to even come across another person. And if she did, it was unlikely that she would hear any affectionate words. In fact, the voices she did hear once in a while pecked away at her like birds of prey feasting on carrion.

The cacophony of crows and mynahs chattering from the palm trees was far more welcome. Birds she had never seen before came to the rock. The clucking of hens kept her company too. The moment they were released from the pen in the mornings, they would shake their feathers about and venture out far into the fields surrounding the rock to find food. It was beautiful to look at them then. Her mother-in-law wouldn’t let them linger about in the yard even for a second. She wanted to make sure they got to the field before they started shitting. The hens began their days with a weak, yearning sound and made a variety of noises as the day progressed. Whenever they made a racket, Saroja fervently hoped it was not because of a visitor come to talk to her.

Kumaresan tried to explain why he had sent word through Vellapayyan that afternoon as well as why he could not reach her on time to take her to the film. All that only made her cry more. Kumaresan persevered. ‘How long can we manage with the money I saved from the work I did in Tholur? We can’t be dependent on amma. If I can set up a shop, everything will be taken care of. Things will take a turn for the better after that. We can even live elsewhere. Please bear with all this until then.’