Her voice must have been audible leagues away. Kumaresan did not say anything. Saroja was once again aware of a strange heaviness in her stomach. Breathless, she felt she had to get out of the hut. She tried to rise, but she couldn’t. Her body trembled, and she felt faint.

ELEVEN

ELEVEN

Later that day, when Kumaresan was about to set out on business about the shop, Saroja did not let him leave.

Though she didn’t fully understand what the village council’s decision meant, she was still very scared. She feared that, following that morning’s visitors, even more people might arrive unbidden to harangue them. If they did, there was no way she could handle them without Kumaresan around. Even if no one came, the prospect of staying alone was terrifying.

He too was lost in his thoughts. They wanted him to bring all her relatives and present them here before the village. They wanted him to clearly tell them what caste she belonged to. There was no way he could do either of those things. He had naively thought that once they saw Saroja’s complexion, they would know she was out of caste but wouldn’t bother to probe further. He’d thought there would be talk for a while but it would all settle down eventually.

Perhaps they could live elsewhere. And their land here? What would he do about it? He could leave it all for amma to manage and just go away, taking Saroja with him. But what if these controls and strictures followed them wherever they went in the world? Why couldn’t they go back to Tholur? He could keep working for Soda Shop Bhai over there and they could live in one of the rooms in the row? But then what would he do about all the arrangements he had been making to set up a shop here? He would not get the money back now . . . Such thoughts plagued him.

Just a while earlier, soon after sunrise, they had heard the sound of the village crier beating the drum and announcing the village council’s decision. Standing at the edge of their rocky field, the man beat the drum four times and then said out loud: