Chapter Seventeen
Playful one. Prince of cow herds—
come! O kutal bless this circle
Nacciyar Tirumoli 4:8
Besotted was how Marcus described my state of mind. If a question arose, I turned to Andal’s songs, opening a random page of For the Love of God for an answer. It might be veiled one day and sweet as honey on another. Sometimes she gave nothing. I am weak, parched as an erukku leaf in summer heat. Will he not send one word to me? That was the first verse I opened to after returning to Australia. I had stayed in Srivilliputtur for Margazhi. It was the compromise we had made, not one day more.
I flew into a heat wave. I felt brittle as a fallen leaf.
‘You will settle down, Saisha,’ Marcus said. ‘Just give it some time.’
Settle down into what?
I worked as many night-shifts as I co
