Daily, Bangari cooks the most mouthwatering dishes, keeps the house and its surroundings neat and tidy and looks after the needs of all in the house, including the servants. She makes Ramappa’s favourite appe midi mango pickle and he raves about it so much that the neighbours and even older women drop by to get helpings or her recipe. She does the milking in the morning, brings in the eggs from the chicken coop, feeds the cattle, the goats, the cats and dogs that run all over the house, orchard and kitchen garden and also goes in the afternoons to Ramappa’s paddy and sugarcane fields to work with him. Thimmakka, spending time taking Kannada and Hindi classes for younger girls in the village or dreaming, reading novels and listening to the radio, is oblivious to the intimacy that is developing between Bangari and Ramappa. Indeed, who would have thought it possible that Ramappa would look at Bangari when he has Thimmakka for a wife?

Six months later, Bangari becomes pregnant. Ramappa comes to Thimmakka one night and tells her: ‘I am going to marry Bangari. She is bearing my child. She is more my wife than you ever were. I will talk to your brother. You go back to his house.’

Thimmakka is shaken up, but then it strikes her. Ramappa is setting her free from their marriage. She gives the puzzled Ramappa a beaming smile. She has been praying to Kamadeva every night since their marriage to find a way out. She wants freedom to go to Annaiah. And Kamadeva has heard her prayers at last.

Tonight, the auspicious seventh full-moon night, she can act and set things right.

She crosses the threshold of Ramappa’s house without a second thought. The full moon outside in the inky black sky brings on a sigh. Oh, how romantic it all is! She is going to Annaiah, her own Kamadeva, just like Ramani did all those years ago. Thimmakka wonders: shall I go over the wall and collect Annaiah’s swetasanchari and suryavamsi, weave them into a garland for him? Then she shakes her head. I am sure it is not necessary for me.

She walks gaily past the village wells and nears the Kamadeva temple. There is still a lamp burning inside. So Annaiah is not yet asleep. Good. She runs softly, soundlessly to the entrance. And stops. She can hear voices. The voice of Chenni. Inside the temple, with Annaiah. What is Chenni doing here at this time of the night?

Thimmakka listens intently. She hears his soft lover-like voice, the voice from her own dreams, which is saying, ‘Take this bunch of swetasanchari and suryavamsi buds, Chenni. I have gathered them for you all of today. You weave these now into a garland, finish it before dawn. Here, take it.’

She hears Chenni, as if making a vow, ‘I will weave your garland before dawn. I will observe all the rules, I promise. I will undertake the penance.’

Annaiah’s voice says, ‘Come here every full-moon night. You have to do this seven times. Only with the seventh garland will Kamadeva be satisfied.’