“See, right now it is M. C. Joseph who is throwing him the crumbs. So he has to wag his tail toward him a little, doesn’t he?” said one of the friends sitting on the bench in front of Chellappan.

The bookkeeper, who had been leaning over the ledger, looked up over his glasses at everybody sitting there and said, “Is it so easy to figure out why assurance money has exchanged hands?” His tone and expression suggested that the matter was more serious than they assumed.

Dhamu studied the bookkeeper’s face.

When he became aware of how Dhamu was looking at him, the bookkeeper put on an expression of innocence that was meant to suggest that he was powerless to withstand such scrutiny and that it was all none of his business anyway, and he lowered his head and returned to his ledger.

“Why don’t you tell us what you think?” said Dhamu.

The bookkeeper looked up at Dhamu and then scanned the small crowd of people sitting with Chellappan.

“All friends here. Not to worry. Just tell us,” said Dhamu.

The bookkeeper now spoke in a low voice. “Well, the way they see it, this is their plan to dig our graves.”

“Why would I give a damn whether the tree is cut down or not?” Dhamu asked. “That’s not going to affect our livelihood, is it?”

“When the tree goes, so will the shade. That’s what they are counting on.”

“So?”

“They think this business depends on the shade of the tree. So they figure when the shade goes, our business will fall.”

Chellappan burst out laughing.

“I am not saying they are right. I am just telling you what they think. That’s all,” said the bookkeeper.

Dhamu sat absolutely silent, his face betraying no emotion. After a minute’s thought, he stood up and walked into the store. As soon as Dhamu disappeared behind the door to the back room, the bookkeeper jumped up and ran inside, as though Dhamu had signaled him to join him.

Half an hour later, Dhamu left the store and walked over to his campaign office.

The bookkeeper was incredibly pleased with how things had turned out. He had found an excellent opportunity to prove to them that he had no loyalty left to Khader and to demonstrate his total reliance on his new employer’s kindness.

At the campaign rally that evening, Dhamu strongly condemned the municipality’s resolution to cut down the tamarind tree.

“It looks like you are actually rattled by their plan,” Chellappan said to Dhamu that night over dinner. “You got a little carried away tonight. It felt like you actually believe we will be ruined the moment that tree is cut down.”