The truth was that Dhamu had decided to contest in the elections only because he could count on the Muslim votes. His friends had promised him this. Khader’s entry into the race was utterly unexpected, and now Dhamu feared he might lose a considerable percentage of the Muslim votes. But his Muslim friends were steadfast in their support of Dhamu. They told him that the only hurdle Khader’s entry had created was that they could no longer canvas openly for Dhamu as they’d originally planned, but they would still zealously work for him behind the scenes. They also warned him that he should expect to lose some of the women’s votes to communal loyalties.

At the last minute, Dhamu’s friends and his brother Chellappan came up with a brilliant plan.

There was a madrassa in the Thirteenth Ward, in front of which an elderly Muslim man sold peanuts, puffed rice, chewy candy, and such. He’d been sitting at that spot for over twenty-five years. He had been a tailor before his eyesight failed him and now he sold candy to survive. The children affectionately called him Grandpa Peanut.

One fine morning, when Grandpa Peanut came out of his hut, everyone who saw him blinked and looked again. They were startled by his appearance. His shirt didn’t have a single tear or patch—in fact, it was brand new! A long-sleeved shirt made of excellent fabric. A double-fold veshti around his waist. New boots on his feet. A shiny new red fez on his head. A car even pulled up in front of his hut. Grandpa Peanut got into the car with his seven grandchildren, all of whom could not wait to go for a drive. Grandpa Peanut was driven to the municipality office. They only had till 12:00 p.m. that day to declare his candidacy; the clock struck twelve exactly as the old man finished putting his thumbprint on all the forms.

Grandpa Peanut was now contesting in the elections.

With a garland around his neck, he was brought in a procession through the streets. Schoolchildren ran behind the car, wild with joy and yelling, “Peanut thatha! Grandpa Peanut!” He picked up as many of the kids as he could in the car. It was an early-model car, a convertible with the top rolled up and secured at the back. The kids clung to the doors and stood on the running boards; some of them even perched on the rolled-up top. The old man was surrounded by children.