Smita and Lalita have rejoined the pilgrims queueing before the temple gates. A child steps forward and offers them laddus, round pastries made from dried fruit and condensed milk. Their weight and composition are strictly defined – the recipe was dictated by the god himself, says the boy. They are prepared inside the temple by the achakas – hereditary priests – who give them to the pilgrims. Eating them is part of the process of purification. Smita thanks Lord Vishnu for this providential feast. Revived by a few hours of sleep, and the sweet-tasting laddus, she feels ready for the sacrifices in store. She hasn’t told Lalita what lies ahead, inside. The wealthiest pilgrims leave offerings of food and flowers, jewellery, gold and precious stones, but the poorest offer Lord Venkateswara the only thing they possess: their hair.

It’s a tradition dating back thousands of years: to offer your hair is to renounce all vanity, all sense of self, to lay yourself bare and come before the god in total humility.

Smita and Lalita enter the temple and begin their progress along the passages covered in wire mesh, where thousands of Dalits wait – as long as forty-eight hours, says a man sitting on the ground beside the entrance. The more well-off buy tickets to jump the queue. Whole families sleep in line, so as not to lose their place. After long hours in the makeshift cages, they come at last to the kalyanakatta, a huge building, four storeys high, where hundreds of barbers are busy at work, night and day. The biggest barbershop in the world, people say. Smita learns that it costs fifteen rupees to shave your head. Truly, nothing in life is free.

In the vast room, as far as the eye can see, men, women with babies in their arms, children and old people, all submitting to the razors, each chanting a prayer to Vishnu. The sight of the endless lines of shaved heads terrifies Lalita. She begins to cry. She doesn’t want to give her hair away, she loves it. She hugs her doll for protection, the toy she has clung to throughout their journey, dressed in its scrap of cloth. Smita bends over her and whispers softly in her ear:

Don’t be afraid.

Vishnu is with us.

Your hair will grow again, it will be even more beautiful than before.

Don’t worry, I’ll go first.

Her mother’s soft voice offers Lalita some comfort. She stares at a group of children whose heads have just been shaved. They stroke their scalps with their hands, and laugh. They don’t seem to be suffering, quite the opposite – they seem amused by their new appearance. Their mother, her head freshly shaven too, anoints them with sandalwood oil, a bright yellow liquid that is thought to protect the skin from the sun, and from infections.