The village erupted in celebration. Azhagar placed a garland of fresh jasmine around Kavin’s neck, declaring, “Today, the spirit of Mannipattu has been reborn.” Ponni hugged him tightly, tears glistening on her cheeks. Raman’s eyes shone with pride, while Malar’s gentle smile reflected the glow of lanterns lit for the night’s feast.

The weeks that followed turned the fields into a training ground. Kavin rose before dawn, his bare feet brushing the cool dew as he practiced balance on a wooden plank, mimicking the sway of a bull’s back. Kombu, a massive animal with a glossy black coat and eyes that glittered like polished onyx, seemed reluctant at first. But Kavin’s patience—soft as a mother’s lullaby—won the bull’s trust. He sang ancient folk songs, feeding Kombu fresh sugarcane and coaxing him with gentle words.

Kavin’s heart leapt. Though he had never ridden a bullock in a race, his childhood friend , who owned the strongest bull in the village— Kombu —saw the fire in his eyes and whispered, “If anyone can tame Kombi, it’s you, Kavin.”