Saroja was always up at dawn. She was used to waking up early to get things ready before her father and brother left for work. Here too, by force of habit, she awoke well before everyone else. Around four in the morning, blackbirds began their clamouring chorus from the palm tree next to the rock, dispelling any chance of sleep for Saroja. Usually, she just lay awake, listening to the sounds of the birds, wondering why they were all aflutter so early in the morning. The sparrows would continue their twittering for a while and then go quiet.

There were no tasks awaiting her upon waking up. Back in Tholur, they had electric lamps. Here, it was quite the effort to light the lantern, which, in any case, emitted far too weak a glow to work in. Yet, it seemed as though her mother-­in-law did not need any light; she could work nimbly even in the darkness. Having spent several years on the rock, Marayi knew the place inside out and could find her way around even blindfolded. Saroja could hear Marayi working outside. The goats would soon start bleating. Lying awake on the cot, Saroja let these morning sounds wash over her.

Kumaresan was fast sleep at that hour. She liked looking at him in the light from the hanging lantern. Her mother-in-law’s movements came to her as sounds that she had, in her ten days here, learned to distinguish: the faint sound of Marayi fetching water and, a little while later, the splash of water being poured into the pots and pitchers. Saroja had even counted that her mother-in-law fetched about ten or eleven pots of water every day.

The idea of her mother-in-law walking about at dusk, drawing water from that old well and bringing it all the way back terrified her. There was absolutely no light outside. Did Marayi have eyes that could pierce the dark, like some animals did? Just the thought of stepping out in the dark scared Saroja. Even if she carried the lantern, the darkness completely overwhelmed its feeble light. She had been so used to electric lamps that she had never thought that one day she would have to encounter such gloom. Still, if she had to go, she would wake Kumaresan with great effort and ask him to escort her. He would sit outside the hut and wait for her.

The moment they stepped out of the hut, her mother-­in-law would pointedly clear her throat. There was no way to know when Marayi slept and when she was awake. At times Saroja wondered if she slept at all. There were so many tasks that had to be done before the first light of the day: fetching water, pouring water for the cows, feeding and milking them. And Marayi did all this singlehandedly.