And that is all that remains of Kodagoosu now – a handful of hair that is stuck on stone, Annaiah tells them.

There is total silence in the Kamadeva temple. No one knows how to deal with the emotions that Kodagoosu’s story has raised in them. Thimmakka, however, remains seated at the temple looking at Annaiah.

‘I want to be part of you,’ she tells Annaiah. ‘Will you take me into you like Siva has done for Kodagoosu?’

Annaiah smiles. ‘You are always part of me, Thimmakka,’ he says.

He gently lifts her up and sends her home.

And that is how her bond with Annaiah starts. Thimmakka creates a custom for herself. Every night, she waits till Annaiah finishes the last bite of the ragi mudde and soppin saru or koli kal saru or tale mamsad saru that her mother Gowra and, later, Chenni make before she returns home to eat. When Chenni, like all the villagers, makes vegetarian food on Mondays, in deference to it being Siva’s day, Thimmakka presents it so well that Annaiah doesn’t even complain. But Annaiah is often cantankerous, uncaring about eating, preferring saraayi to food. On days like those, Thimmakka says, see Annaiah, I will eat only if you do. Please, I am very hungry and Chenni has made this payasa only for me. Come and eat, else I will starve and you will be responsible for this.

Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. On those latter nights, Thimmakka goes to bed hungry, determined to suffer the pangs of hunger. So what if it upsets Chenni? Her love and commitment to Annaiah is bigger than anything else.

As she grows older, Thimmakka wonders about her attachment to Annaiah. It has deepened with time. Everything that she does or thinks about these days comes right back to him. They are teaching her Hindi in school and she thinks it sounds just like the alien language that Annaiah sings in. If they show her pictures of flowers, she is able to identify them all and tells her teachers that there are so many more behind the wall in her village, which only Annaiah knows about.

When she begins reading Kannada novels and listens to film songs on the radio that Puttaswamegowda brings for her, she wonders if she feels that kind of attraction for him. When she watches Rajkumar, breathlessly handsome as Mayura, in the tent in the neighbouring village, it is Annaiah that she sees on the screen. What is so special about him? He is white-haired and white-bearded, the oldest man in the village other than Dasegowda. But Thimmakka doesn’t care about that. Nowadays, more than listening to his stories, she is listening to his voice and watching him. And she feels the need to protect him. Who does Annaiah have other than her?

Thimmakka has heard some of the girls whispering about him. She is not the only one who finds him interesting. But she is the only one with access to him. All the other households in the village only send old women or men to give Annaiah his other meal of the day. She gives him food and meets him alone in the night. He is hers. She has more to offer him than anyone else. She is the headman’s sister and she knows more than other girls. She stands first in class and is a natural leader, as the school principal tells everyone who will listen.