Valluvan had said there would be an hour-long Carnatic concert followed by prayers, speeches and food. I’d hoped to time our entry towards the end of the concert, but of course, nothing is ever punctual, so they are still setting up the shamiana when we arrive. The musicians and the priest are sitting around listlessly drinking coffee from plastic cups. Six of Valluvan’s men immediately guide us towards the row of chairs in front of the makeshift stage. We are chief guests of sorts, so there is no escaping the show. Men are fiddling with the wires of the speakers strung up on poles, which make menacing squeaking sounds. I think of Papi and stifle a laugh.

Mallika doesn’t sit with us. She joins the throng of village women who are organising food behind the temple. Only Lucia and I have nothing to do except hold cold glass bottles of Coca-Cola. I would have preferred a fresh coconut water, but these were brought over so ceremoniously, it was impossible to make a different request.

I had seen Valluvan a few times in the past month about the upcoming elections. ‘You realise I don’t work?’ I told him. ‘I have no regular income coming in. Whatever I have is invested in such a way that it has to sustain me for the rest of my life.’ We agreed on half the amount he initially asked for. He was good-natured about it, although I don’t think he believed me.

At one point there had been a plan to make his wife Nila stand for elections because of the 33 per cent reservation quota for women in the Panchayat system. It was a common practice. The wife gets in on the quota, the husband rules. But they had not thought of it early enough and all the paperwork had already been filed. So there were posters of Valluvan all over the place – smiling widely, giving the thumbs-up sign, and next to him – the leader of the party – an aged poet in dark goggles on a throne with a saffron shawl around his neck. Between them was the party’s symbol, the rising sun, even though for some years now, the sun had been squashed by the current party in power.