The parents are frantic about their missing daughter by then. When Kodagoosu walks in with the empty pot, they are relieved that she is back. But that changes very quickly. What happened to all the milk, they ask her. Kodagoosu happily tells them that Siva and Parvati came and the thirsty Siva drank everything, so there is none left to give the villagers.

Sivadeva is first stupefied, then angry that his child is lying. ‘If you drank all the milk or it spilled somewhere, just say so. Why are you telling me this Siva–Parvati tale? Who taught you to lie like this about the gods?’ He is furious. All of Kodagoosu’s protestations go in vain.

Poor child, say the village folk sitting around Annaiah, engrossed in the story. Little Thimmakka’s eyes fill with tears. Other children are saucer-eyed, reaching out for their own parents. Everyone feels the sorrow of the child who thinks she has only done what her father wants her to do.

Kodagoosu sticks to her story, Annaiah says, even when her father raises his hand at her. Her mother, rushing in to stop him, says soothingly, ‘Let us just go to the cave and see where the milk has spilled. I don’t think Kodagoosu could have drunk that much by herself. Maybe she gave it to some animals.’

By now, everyone in Kodagoosu’s village has gathered around to find out what the row is about. They follow Kodagoosu and her parents to the forest cave, carrying torches to ward off wild animals and reptiles in the dead of the night. The child’s footsteps are faltering – the day has been exhausting. Her father is grim and does not even carry her on that long walk. Kamadeva wonders why this man does not see the trust and truth shining in the child’s eyes. What is the point in humans having a mind if they don’t have a heart?

Kodagoosu reaches the cave first and walks in. ‘Siva,’ she tells the linga, ‘my father says I should have just shown you the pot of milk and brought it back home. I didn’t know that. I am sorry I made you drink it. Will you please come and tell him that you did drink it? He thinks I threw it or gave it to an animal or drank it all myself.’ Kodagoosu’s high, piping voice dies away. She can’t say anything more. Her voice, which managed to pull Siva out of the stone linga, is gone.

Siva doesn’t come. Kamadeva feels like hitting his own head on the stone. Can’t Siva see what this is doing to the child? It is true that her parents and these disbelieving village folk have not earned the right to see him. But what of Kodagoosu! Kamadeva has no arrow, no power that can help along this kind of love.

Sivadeva berates Kodagoosu for shaming him in front of the entire village. ‘Enough of these lies. Tell us what you did with the milk.’ Distraught, Kodagoosu runs to the stone linga and puts her arms around it, sobbing. Then it happens. In a flash that even Kamadeva almost misses, Siva hugs the child and pulls her into his very being, into the stone. Stunned to see their daughter merging into the stone, Sivadeva and his wife rush to grab her but only get hold of the child’s hair.