Gradually, as Estha stirred, the banana jam thickened and cooled, and Thought Number Three rose unbidden from his beige and pointy shoes.

Thought Number Three was:

(c) A boat.

A boat to row across the river. Akkara. The Other Side. A boat to carry Provisions. Matches. Clothes. Pots and Pans. Things they would need and couldn't swim with.

Estha's arm hairs stood on end. The jam-stirring became a boat-rowing. The round and round became a back and forth. Across a sticky scarlet river. A song from the Onam boat race filled the factory. "Thaiy thaiy thaka thaiy thaiy thome!"

Enda da korangacha, chandi ithra thenjadu?

(Hey, Mr. Monkey man, why's your bum so red?)

Pandyill thooran poyappol nerakkamuthiri nerangi njan.

(I went for a shit to Madras, and scraped it till it bled.)

The God of Small ThingsBy Arundhati RoyPage 187