On their way back, they stopped at Kunnoor to buy the things they needed to offer on a tray at the function at Chellakka’s house, as was the custom. Fruits, mirror, comb, face powder, fabric for a blouse—they purchased everything. They even bought flowers with which to decorate the edges of the plate. And a small brass mug. All of this cost nearly fifty rupees. When he was trying to save money for the shop, fifty rupees was a considerable expense. But Chellakka had come in person to invite them, ignoring other people’s opinions, and her gesture had made a deep impression on Kumaresan’s heart. Otherwise, he was not the kind to spend so much money at once. He said, ‘Later, when we hold the function for our daughter, we will get all these back, you see.’ She was not sure if he truly believed that or if he was saying it merely to comfort her. Nevertheless, it made her feel strange. Isn’t it enough that I am suffering now? Should I give birth to a daughter and watch her suffer too?

When she and Kumaresan were getting married, Periyasami had taken care of all the arrangements before they arrived. He had even taken his sister along to buy new clothes for the newlyweds. They had bought her a sari worth two hundred rupees. Kumaresan had fretted about the expense. ‘Why spend so much on a sari you are going to wear only occasionally?’ he had said to Saroja. Worried he might also say the same thing to Periyasami, Saroja had warned him: ‘They have bought all this with love. Don’t say anything to them.’ They did not have their own families supporting them, yet here was a stranger doing all he could to help them. True, she would wear that sari only once in a while. But then, they only bought such saris once in a while, didn’t they? There was no way she could tell him that then. In his opinion, spending money on anything that was not of daily use was not worth it. Now they were going to a special function celebrating a young girl’s coming of age. Also, even though he was not Chellakka’s own brother by birth, he was like a maternal uncle to the girl. Saroja wanted some jasmine flowers to wear in her hair. He asked for the price. When they were told that it was a rupee for one forearm’s length of a string of jasmine, Kumaresan hesitated a little. But before he could respond, she said, ‘We will buy some.’ It made him smile. She smiled back, saying, ‘You count every paisa.’ Then he bought her some tea and the coconut biscuits she was fond of.