Annaiah is not sleeping. He is sitting on the platform where he generally tells his stories, drinking his saraayi and gazing blankly at the wall. Thimmakka approaches him softly. Startled, he turns and looks at her. This is the first time she has come to him since the night he rejected her. Her eyes, involuntarily, drink in the sight of him. She can see the line of his throat in the moonlight, the neck that she clasped so adoringly that night. She can feel the warmth of those muscular arms that held her, for just one long moment. Her eyes scan his face. Are those additional age lines? New wrinkles? The old feelings swamp her. But Thimmakka is older, bitter and more resolute now. She thrusts the memories and thoughts away.

‘Yes, what is it, Thimmakka?’ Annaiah asks gently, as if that night has never happened.

Well. Perhaps it had slipped his memory? After all, he has more important things like Chenni’s pregnancy to occupy him, Thimmakka thinks sourly.

‘Annaiah, I am worried about Chenni. She is becoming very ill. She is often delirious and she keeps calling for you in very embarrassing terms. Please tell me what to do,’ Thimmakka says innocently.

Annaiah looks surprised. ‘Calling for me?’ he mutters, almost under his breath.

‘Annaiah,’ she says again, ‘I climbed the wall today, for the first time.’

He looks at her, perplexed.

‘I wanted to see if there were some herbs or something there which could help Chenni. I have brought all that I could find. Please tell me which ones to give her,’ she says.

He gives her an amused smile, but puts down his goatskin and takes a look at the motley collection she has brought. ‘This is a good root. No, not that one, the nice red one. The bluish one will help a little, the green one is useless. Don’t use the brown one, however. It’s very bad, can worsen the delirious condition. Throw that away. Here, give it to me … all right, throw it away yourself.’

Thimmakka has got what she wanted. She secrets the brown root in her seragu and, thanking Annaiah, walks back to Puttaswamegowda’s house. Chenni is in a hyper state, walking round and round in her room, when Thimmakka comes in.

‘I have brought you some herbs, Chenni. They will soothe you. Annaiah says it will give you lasting relief,’ she tells her.

Chenni smiles hugely at her and nods, continuing her rounds in the cramped space. Thimmakka cuts the brown root into small pieces, grinds it to a paste and mixes it with warm milk. Chenni downs the tasteless concoction in one gulp. The steel lota falls down from her suddenly listless fingers and she collapses on her bed. She goes into deep sleep.