Venky and Kannalmozhi’s rivalry intensifies as they confront a looming threat to their neighborhood trees.
Venky was not gifted with the ability to read minds, or else he would have understood what Kannalmozhi was thinking. Frustrated by his presence, she often wondered why he couldn’t be more pleasant, like his parents who greeted her with warmth, never haggled, and never asked for favors. In contrast, Venky always appeared as if he had just swallowed a fruit fly, his demeanor irritable. As they exchanged words, he found himself exasperated by the chaos surrounding them.
Kannalmozhi was in the midst of a chase, scolding Venky for the ruckus created by the rooster. “It’s not my rooster,” she retorted while trying to manage the bird, which belonged to Dulquer Anna. She and her mother often helped care for it when Dulquer Anna was busy with deliveries. As she triumphantly caught the flapping Tandoori, Venky yelled, urging her to quiet the incessant crowing that was driving him mad. “Day and night it goes on! I can hear it even in my sleep!” he lamented, his hands flying to his ears in protest.
Kannalmozhi shot back with a smirk, questioning why he had chosen to live on the first floor of Velu Alpine Meadow. The name itself always amused Venky, conjuring images of freshly washed banians hanging from tree branches, but today, he was in no mood for humor. The atmosphere was charged with tension as they continued to bicker.
Suddenly, the escalating argument was interrupted when a speeding bike screeched to a halt, narrowly avoiding the runaway rooster. Dulquer Anna, returning from a doorstep delivery, let out a startled shriek as he caught Tandoori just in time. As the flustered Dulquer Anna cradled the rooster, two men dismounted from the bike, drawing attention from the neighborhood.
The pillion rider, tall and thin with a round face and a friendly smile, was greeted by Venky with a grin, though he quickly reminded himself of the ongoing feud. The stocky rider, on the other hand, took out his phone and began snapping photos of the banyan tree nearby, helmet still on his head. The vibrant beads worn by Savithri’s Mami momentarily lost their luster as everyone’s attention shifted to the commotion, while Kattappa paused mid-lick of his paw, and even the flies hovering over Kannalmozhi’s fruit stall seemed momentarily distracted. Chamathu, however, remained indifferent, dismissing the newcomers as mere tourists.
After capturing a series of images, the helmeted rider approached the gathered crowd. Recognizing a potential opportunity, Kannalmozhi hurried back to her stall, shouting, “Fruits! Fruits! Fresh fruits!” Not wanting to be outdone, Chitthi offered a jasmine string, but the helmeted man waved them off dismissively. “Time to pack up and go home,” he stated curtly, confusing the flower seller. “Now-a? Too early, no?” she asked, bewildered. With a gesture of impatience, he commanded everyone to vacate the street, leaving the vendors and onlookers in a state of confusion as they processed the unexpected turn of events.
