Asan looked so smug and Joseph so resigned, we broke into howls of laughter. Asan joined us. Once peace reigned again, Pappu tried to get this new story. Who had tried to cut down the tree? How did Asan save it? But Asan wouldn’t be rushed. We watched quietly as he took a packet of betel leaves from the folds of his veshti. We waited as he chewed, making sure we settled into comfortable spots.

“You all seem to think I am just making things up,” Asan said. “But I am not lying. I am speaking of the things I have seen with my own eyes. If I had not intervened that day, the tamarind tree would surely have been felled. That damned fellow swung his axe with such force at the tree. Somehow something got me there at the right time. I stood behind him and grabbed his arm. Who did that? Me! What time was it? Two. Not two in the afternoon. Two in the morning. Who was cutting down the tree? Koplan, the priest at the Madaiyadi Maadan temple. His eyes were so bloodshot, they looked like freshly cut sheep thighs. He was totally drunk. Arrack. And he held an axe in his right hand. ‘Wait, Koplan, wait,’ I said, grabbing his arm. The moment he saw me, he froze—the raised axe just stopped in midair. I still laugh thinking about it . . .”

Asan started laughing at the memory of a petrified Koplan. His laughter grew until he was laughing with utter abandon, his eyes squeezed shut in delight, his back and shoulders shaking, his head rolled back. We exchanged knowing glances.

“You see, it was a tricky task. There was a chance my plan could work. But, on the other hand, it might not have, and I might have lost my head to his axe. After all, you don’t know when death’s coming for you, do you? It can snuff out life any second. But I decided to chance it. If I had not risked my life and flung myself in his way, that bastard would have cut down that lovely tree that day.”

We could not stand the suspense any longer. “Who was it that came to cut down the tree?” we cried.

“I just told you. Koplan.”

“—But why was he cutting it down?—”

“—How did you arrive at that spot at just the right time? Tell us that first!—”

“—Why do you do this, Asan? You tie up the story in so many knots, we are at a loss! It’s like being abandoned blindfolded in a forest.”

Asan laughed with glee at having spun us in circles. But he picked up the thread again. “Remember I told you that Chellathayi hung herself from the tree?” he said.

“Yes! Yes!” we cried like little children.