“Well, as far as I am concerned, your son-in-law is an ‘other man’ too! Ten years ago, I owed less than ten rupees for a pair of lungis I bought in his store. He had his lawyers send me a collection notice! Did he think of me as a fellow Muslim then? So don’t waste your breath, Aziz. Money’s the only thing that matters to people. Rich people always band together; it doesn’t matter what caste they are from and what gods they worship. If you are so keen that one of our people should win, then why don’t you ask your son-in-law to drop out? How does that sound?”

“I am going to make sure you lose. That’s my only goal now,” said Aziz.

“That’s not going to happen. So go mind your own business,” the old man said.

“I don’t even care if Dhamu wins. I want you to lose.”

“Then come to the municipal office on the first of next month. You will see me sitting under the ceiling fan! Then you can rip your tongue out and die!” yelled Grandpa Peanut.

Things got out of hand. The old man started shouting like a man possessed. His eyes went red, and veins popped out on his neck. The women in the hut began screaming. Children came running, gathered around, and raised such a ruckus that Aziz could not get a word in. One of the kids knocked off Aziz’s cap from behind. When he bent down to pick it up, someone else pulled his shawl off his shoulders and threw it in the air.

Aziz got out of there as fast as he could. The children chased him down the street, hooting and hollering and yelling inventive insults.

15

15.

Despite intense opposition, the motion to cut down the tamarind tree passed by a margin of three votes in the municipal council. The Travancore Nesan gave this news a six-column headline on its front page. There was also an editorial that praised the municipal chairman M. C. Joseph to the skies.

I still remember the commotion that broke out the day the news was published.

People gathered everywhere—at the Vadaseri market, all around the clock tower, in the bazaar at the tamarind-tree junction, and in Kambolam in Kottar—to discuss the development. The overwhelming opinion was that Dhamu’s opposition to the motion to cut the tree down had suffered a great defeat. Many felt the decision was going to have an indirect impact on his election chances. Others spoke of how excited Khader and his minions would be by this development. They imagined how Khader’s camp would now throw itself into the campaign with gusto. Listening to them talk, it seemed they had conjured up an entire imaginary scene of war, with Khader’s army advancing with great force and Dhamu’s army, which had hitherto fought tirelessly, now beating a hasty retreat.