Several days passed, and the púsári remained invisible to mortal eyes. He suffered neither from hunger nor thirst nor fatigue, and required no sleep. Aimlessly and ceaselessly, he wandered about, sunk in the lowest depths of misery and despair. His great wish was to find the pisási village again, as he hoped that, in some way, the spell might then be removed from him. Night after night he entered the forest and wandered about till daybreak with eyes and ears open for any sign of the presence of pisásis; but though, before long, he knew every path and game-track, and almost every tree for miles round, he could not find again the haunted jungle. Sometimes, when tired, of his fruitless midnight wanderings, he would go to the rice-fields and sit by the blazing fires in the watch-huts and listen to the talk of the men and boys guarding the crops from the wild beasts. During the day, he haunted the village, entering all the huts unseen, and listening to the conversation of the villagers. Often he laughed to himself as he overheard secrets disclosed, weaknesses exposed, and designs laid bare, by men and women who thought themselves alone and safe from eavesdropping. The excitement about the murder of the headman soon died out, and it ceased to be the absorbing theme of conversation in the village. The púsári was supposed to have got safely off to some distant country with his booty.
During this time, the púsári watched his enemy unceasingly, his feelings of hatred and desire for vengeance growing deeper every day. Iyan was too cunning a villain to excite suspicion by showing his ill-gotten wealth, and he had not as yet profited much by his crime. Every evening, the púsári watched him go into the jungle and gloat over the money and jewels he had hidden in the hollow tree.
The púsári also kept an untiring, loving watch over his daughter. His brother and family had by this taken complete possession of his house and property. Vallee felt keenly their rapacious proceedings and unkind treatment of her, for her father more than once saw her, with tears of mortification and indignation in her eyes, rush out of the house into the jungle. But she very often met there one who dried her tears quickly and easily. Valan appeared to be always on the watch for her, and met her so often and so openly, that it soon became the talk of the village. Many sneered at him for a fool to think of marrying a portionless girl, as they now thought her, and also the daughter of a murderer. It soon became clear to the púsári that matters were coming to a crisis, and that Valan, stung into resentment and defiance by the remarks of the villagers, and pitying Vallee’s distress and unhappiness, would soon make her his wife and take her away. Valan’s generous and honourable conduct towards his daughter, and his expression of belief in his innocence, had completely won the púsári’s heart. He saw with approval and pleasure the relations between the two, and the thought that his daughter would soon be provided for, helped in considerable measure to reconcile him to his unhappy lot.
It happened one night that the púsári in one of his nocturnal rambles found himself at the river. It was now the height of the hot season, and the river was almost dry. Near where the path crossed the river was a small pool, the only water for miles around; to this the púsári went, and seated on the bank above, watched the wild animals coming to drink. It was a bright moonlight night, and the light reflected from the white sandy bed of the river made everything clearly visible. First came a pair of porcupines, which played about and chased each other, rattling their quills noisily, till the sudden appearance of an old she-bear with a cub on her back put them to flight. The bear drank and shuffled off; and then, with noiseless, stealthy step, a leopard glided out of the jungle into the moonlight. It looked about with its cruel, round gleaming eyes for a few moments, and then, lying down on its stomach, lapped its fill of water. Afterwards came a herd of wild-pigs, suspicious and wary, followed by a number of graceful spotted deer. As these were drinking, a slight noise in the distance caused them all to throw up their heads and listen in attitudes of alarm, and then to disappear in the jungle like shadows. A few moments later, with heavy but silent tread, a herd of elephants came along the river and drank at the pool, throwing copious showers of water over themselves with their trunks afterwards. The púsári had by this time quite lost all fear of wild animals, so he sat and watched them with pleasure and in perfect security.
Suddenly the púsári started to his feet, and with staring eyes and beating heart, gazed at something in the distance that had caught his eye. It was a brilliant glare of light over the trees. It was the pisási village at last! Without a moment’s hesitation, and breathless with anxiety, he hurried off in the direction of the light, going straight through the jungle towards it. Nearer and nearer appeared the light, till at last, with joy and exultation in his heart, he stepped out of the jungle into the well-remembered enchanted bazaar. But instead of the unearthly silence that had reigned in the bazaar the last time he was there, it was now filled with uproar. No particular sounds were distinguishable; but horrid shrieks and yells, awful execrations and hideous sounds of every sort, filled the air. Instead of taking no notice of him as before, the pisásis glared balefully at him, and seemed to snarl and show their teeth. The creatures in the shape of cattle and dogs followed him threateningly; and numbers of evil-looking birds and loathsome creatures with wings flapped and fluttered about his head. But undaunted and undeterred, the púsári walked steadily on, searching for the old she-pisási’s stall where he had drunk the magic potion. At last he found it. There sat the old hag, blinking and leering with the same hollow gourd of water before her. Seizing it, the púsári raised it to his lips, and in spite of the awful din that instantly arose, drained it to the bottom. As he put it down empty, he fell to the ground insensible.
It was daylight when he recovered and staggered to his feet. He remembered instantly what had happened during the night, and was filled with intense anxiety to ascertain whether his experiment had broken the spell that had bound him. He gazed at his arms and legs, and it seemed to him that they were real flesh and blood. He pinched them, and was sure he had felt the sensation. A thrill of joy passed through him, for he felt certain that he had recovered his human form. Taking his bearings by the sun, he made his way rapidly through the jungle to the river. As he descended the bank, he came upon a herd of deer, and it was with rapture that he saw them gaze in alarm at him and then dash hastily away. As he walked along the bed of the river, he noticed with intense satisfaction that he now had a shadow! There was no longer any doubt, and in the gladness of his heart the púsári began to sing at the top of his voice. As he turned into the path leading to Pandiyán, he caught sight of a man coming towards him; a moment later, he saw it was Valan Elúvan. On seeing the púsári, the young man stopped and looked at him with astonishment. After a moment’s hesitation, he came forward. ‘Why, iya, where have you been?’ he exclaimed.
‘I cannot tell you now, Valan,’ replied the púsári. ‘I am anxious to get to Pandiyán. Come with me, and I will tell you all.’
‘Then you are not afraid to go to the village, iya?’ said Valan hesitatingly.
‘No. Why should I?’
‘Have you not heard, then, of the murder of the múdliya and what is said about it?’