After cooking his favorite so-called Jolada roti (a staple food of thin flattened chapatis made of Sorghum millet), Pakirappa was tired. He had made a lot of it, and most of the natives kept it so, and it was never rotten rotis for them and had kept it in a huge cotton cloth tied up loosely. It seemed like a piece of cloth from cotton sari, most probably of one of his wives in his village. Senan could not accept the way of keeping it tied up in it. But they were dry and had life for a week. Pakirappa was adamant on keeping it so. He refused Senan's suggestions on it.
Pakirappa came out to the sit-out, opened his grass mat, and laid it flat on the floor. He looked far at the huge, dark hills standing against the slightly moonlit sky. Senan knew that Pakirappa expected something there. Suddenly, he lay on the mat, feeling exhausted.
Later, whenever Pakirappa made the so-called rotis, Senan would not cook his traditional South Indian rice and curry. In the beginning, it was hard for Senan to consume their staple foods, which were mainly millets like sorghum, pearl millet, and finger millet. Later, Senan loved them more than rice and curry, as they made him stronger to stand with the bitter chill on the hills. Thus, Senan knew how they could work hard on those hilly terrains, even in their sixties and seventies.
Many elderly laborers have been working at the KG estate for a long time. Chandu and Prakash, who had arrived from there for a two-day' stay with Pakirappa and Senan, were in their forties. They seemed young and energetic, as if in their twenties. Senan could not communicate with them, as they were mumbling in Tulu, waiting for Pakirappa on two huge stones in the front yard. They had bought a bottle of country liquor offered for weekend holiday from KG estate.
They had made Charmuri (the dish with puffed rice, spices, and raw veggies) as a snack with the country liquor. Soon after Pakirappa turned up in the sit-out, he watched the hills. Nothing was visible in the dark, and hours had passed by. Waiting for them to start eating Charmuri and drinking the liquor, Senan had slept, leaning his back against the wall.
Meanwhile, Senan heard wailing-like sounds from his companions nearby. They were standing beside him and looking up far at a hill. Senan stood up, startled, and wondered what they could see in such darkness.
Pointing to the place where they had been looking, Pakirappa said, 'Chenna, see the beautiful harlot of small fire lamps lit around the neck of the hill.'
Senan stood dumbfounded at the amazing sight. He wondered who could light lamps there so beautifully at this late hour of night. As the hill stood miles away from them, Senan thought how bigger the lamps should be to be found.
'Who could it be?' Senan asked hilariously. Pakirappa had been struggling through the ups and downs of confusion and anxiety.
'What's peculiar about today?' Senan asked as he believed it would have been the part of a religious custom of natives or Malakudiyas.
'I'm thrilled, Pakirappa,' Chandu said, standing up from the mat and stepping down to the soil. He knelt and prayed, looking at the beautiful sight.
'Oh! God! Although Pakirappa told us that such a thing would happen today, I never expected it would be there,' Chandu exclaimed.
'Oh, my Lord Siva, now I could see you standing with a Naga of fire around your neck. Bless me! Bless us! Bless Devagiri!' Prakash roared piotiusly. But, Pakirappa found it absurd.
'Stop the nonsense! Be on your nerves!' Pakirappa, who had been an ardent devotee of the hill, said, turned towards Senan, and continued, 'This is what I told you. That's wildfire. Being far away, we've a different view.'
'Let's inform at the forest office,' Senan suggested.
Prakash laughed at it and said, 'You idiot! Like us, almost everyone in Devagiri and Aniyoor would be watching it. It's usual here during these months. Long ago, such wildfires were not man-made. At present, most of the time, it's man-made!'
Senan was startled at this.
(to be continued)