It was quite an extraordinary sight, the maharaja arriving in a golden chariot pulled by six horses. The diwan’s chariot always followed the king’s, but with only four horses, and it was only a silver chariot. The diwan could look at the crowds as much as he liked, but the crowds wouldn’t look back—they had eyes only for the maharaja. The maharaja would pass by, hands pressed together in front of his chest, nodding graciously to the people gathered on both sides. He’d keep this up until the end—hands together and nodding to the crowds. Soon after he passed by, people would argue among themselves. “He looked straight at me.” “No! He was looking at me!”

At the time of our story, only the eastern section of the town existed. Even the main road was about two or two and a half miles away to the east of the tamarind pond. It was late summer. The west wind, known to be quite vigorous, had just begun to blow. It would blow dust in great swirls. All the piles of waste lying on the ground would rise up in the wind and hang in the air like giant palatial pillars for a few seconds before scattering back to oblivion.

The day Maharaja Pooram Tirunal visited our town, a strong west wind was blowing in full force.

Maharaja Pooram Tirunal had spent the previous night at the grand palace in Vadaseri and now was making his way to our town. To welcome him, the fireworks started at four in the afternoon. A river of people stretched from Vadaseri all the way to Ittamozhi. Children, young folks, the elderly . . . The entire street seemed awash in gold and silk. At any other time, if anyone had given even the most accurate inventory of the variety of clothes and jewelry that the women of this town owned, no one would have believed them. Visitors from out of town still kept pouring in. So many faces, such a variety of jewelry, so much laughter, such dazzle! It was all utterly magical! And the excitement in the eyes of all those waiting by the sides of the road! The eyes looked like they were ready to pop and fall out!

The royal procession was approaching Minakshipuram. A silence fell upon the crowd. It was so quiet, people could hear themselves breathe. Now the maharaja had arrived in front of the Vadivamman temple. The temple bell rang. When the king stood up in his chariot and brought his hands together in prayer, people could tell his devotion from the flutter of his eyelashes.

Suddenly, the west wind began to blow with great force and brought with it an unpleasant smell. The smell was quite faint at first, but very soon people were exchanging glances, their faces grimacing in disgust.