Since there was water all year round in the tamarind pond, it was a convenient place for people’s morning ablutions. But since moss spread over the surface of the pond like lotus leaves, there was not much of a stench. Still, the pond was mostly bereft of people for the rest of the day. Only curly-tailed pigs grazed happily. Back then, the main road was two miles away from the tamarind tree, winding through a longer route to its various destinations, so the area saw very few travelers as well.

But once the rains came and the grass grew lush and green, the cattle arrived to graze. The herding boys would drive them into the pond and give them a thorough wash, rubbing them with tender care. Then they’d drive the cows back onto land, and the boys would head straight for the tamarind tree. The elephant-like island mound would come alive with games, fights, and arguments. When twilight began to fade into night, they’d head back to town.

“Young girls didn’t dare to head in that direction, not even by chance,” Asan told us. “Old women came to gather cow dung, and little kids came. But not young women. They wouldn’t even dream of being anywhere near the pond in those days.”

“Why?” one of the boys asked in pompous Tamil. “Was it because sturdy young men waited there, ready to aim their arrows of love?”

“Nonsense! Earlier, everyone came to the pond. There was nothing unusual about it. But once they came to know what happened to Kaliappan’s daughter, Chellathayi, how could any woman dare to go there? A man showed up . . . No one knew where he was from, no one knew his name—in fact, no one had even seen his face. He dragged her by the arm, laid her down under the tree, and . . .”

Asan’s story had begun. He’d told this same story many times before, and we’d all heard it, but we never got bored. He was ready to tell it again, and we were ready to listen to the story of Chellathayi and the moonlight stranger.

On her way home after a day of planting in the fields, Chellathayi fell out with her girlfriends over something trivial. She broke off from them and took the shortcut by the edge of the pond. It was the night of the full moon. The place looked enchanting. The pond was full to the brim after the heavy rains the night before, and the water lapped against the banks in little waves.