She was taken around and informed she was being given medications to help her conceive. Nothing, however, worked. ‘If you had married a goat instead of me, it would have given birth to a litter by now for all the shoots she must have eaten,’ she had chuckled once, whispering into Kali’s doublecurve-studded ears. ‘I should have been born a male goat for that,’ he said, stony-faced. Even now, remembering that made her smile till tears welled up in her eyes. Kali and Ponna didn’t leave any stone unturned when it came to praying. They didn’t make a distinction between small and large temples. They pledged to make an offering to each god they came across. It was a goat sacrifice for the woodland gods. It was pongal for the temple gods. The promises were even multiplied for some gods. If a child were to be born, they would spend the rest of their lives trying to keep these promises. In fact, if their prayers were answered, Kali was willing to give up his livestock and everything he had saved through his extraordinary frugality. However, no god seemed to care. How many pledges and prayers must they have made in Tiruchengode alone! You may reach the Pandeeswarar temple on top if you ascended past the woodland where the Pavatha shrine is located. On the mountaintop, they dubbed this deity the Pillayar. He was on the lookout for the varadikkal, a nearby barren rock. An ordinary soul could not go there; mental and physical strength were required. When they were younger, Kali and Muthu would go there every newmoon day with a huge group of young men. Bullock carts would transport people there. Elderly and sick individuals would pray and lie down in their carts after touching the first step. Muthu and Kali’s posse of young men took up positions in the mandapams, the pillared hallways that marked every big ascent, and mocked anyone who needed to rest before continuing. They’d hold a competition to see who could sprint the fastest up the stairs. It felt like I was running on flat terrain. It didn’t get steep until after the drop at Nagar Pallam. It was necessary to be patient, especially when climbing down. If not, the chance of falling down the slope without control all the way to the sunken landing was quite real. The young crowd frequently left their houses before the sun rose, walking and sprinting six or seven kilometres to the hill. Crossing long distances was a sport. Nothing made them happier than this. In the pillared chambers atop the hill, people sold millet rice. The rice had been combined with thick yoghurt and was fragrant with millets. It took two full pitchers to keep hunger at away. They were also of an age when they didn’t have to worry about hunger. In fact, going to the temple was really a flimsy pretext for embarking on this excursion. As soon as they entered the inner sanctuary, touched the camphor flame, prayed, and put the sacred ash on their foreheads, it was over. No one ventured inside the forest, which was home to the Pavatha shrine. Everyone has been imbued with a terror of that location. They even sent someone to make sure no one wandered into the forest on days when there were more people. They came to a rocky patch where little trees grew out of the fissures between the boulders as they walked passed it. No one could go through them because they were so narrow. So they leaped from rock to rock instead. Even the monkeys were scared away by the commotion they created by leaping around like this. Then there’s a level surface. You’d come to a massive rock that stood like a sickle if you stepped over it on the left side. Its tip appeared to be poised to pierce the sky. They would climb to the top of even this rock by placing their feet in microscopic fissures. This rock had a cave underneath it. Inside, it was chilly. They’d take a nap there. They might fall asleep if no one is talking. They could see Tiruchengode below if they leaned out from the cave’s entrance. They could even see the other temple at the bottom of the hill, as well as the immobile chariots’ thatched roofs. The Brahmins who worked at the temple lived in agraharam dwellings along four or five streets, as did people from other castes. The Amman temple’s tank appeared to be big and spread out. The two temple tanks would resemble sand-filled beggars’ bowls. The prostitutes’ road ran directly across from the temple at the bottom of the hill. That lane was open to anyone. There was a large shady area in front of the cave. They’d speak incessantly. When Kali attempted to recall what they had discussed, he couldn’t recall anything. Maybe it was just the privilege of youth to talk incessantly. The brain may have determined that it was all pointless as he grew older and wiped all memories of that nonsense. But it couldn’t change the sense of joy that accompanied it. They were dispersed across a large open area. They’d leave that position when the sun began to set and proceed to the next peak. There were so many peaks in those hills! They had to descend down the cliff that stood directly in front of the cave. There was a stream in the gap that looked like a crocodile’s open jaws.