Venky was no mind reader, or he’d have known what Kannalzmozhi was actually thinking:

What does that annoying fellow Venky want now?

Why can’t he be more like his parents? They always greet me with a smile, never haggle, never ask for credit. But this Venky, pah! Always looks as if he’s swallowed a fruit fly.

Foolish fellow won’t even see where he’s going. “What do you want?” she snapped as Venky marched up to her.

“I don’t want anyth –”

“Then stop bothering me.’

“You’re the one who’s bothering me. Your rooster –”

“It’s not my rooster,” she said over her shoulder, resuming the chase. “It’s Dulquer Anna’s.”

“You’re the one birdie-sitting.” Venky spun around to yell at her. Kannalmozhi and Amma looked after the rooster when Dulquer Anna made home deliveries or took tea breaks.

“Caught you!” Kannalmozhi said triumphantly, hugging the furiously flapping Tandoori close.

“KUKU-DUKU-DOO!” Tandoori protested.

“Stop it! Stop this kukudu-dukudu business!” Venky cried, his hands flying to his ears. “Day and night it goes on! I can hear it even in my sleep!”

“Who asked you to live on the first floor of Velu Alpine Meadow?” she demanded, glancing up at the four-storey apartment.

“Who asked you to move to my street?”

“It’s not your street.” Kannalmozhi jerked her head at the bright yellow signboard behind the banyan. “B-A-N-I-A-N T-R-E-E Avenue. Not whatever-your-name-is Avenue.”

The spelling always made Venky picture freshly scrubbed banians drying on the branches of a tree. Always made him chuckle. Not today. Today, Venky was in the mood to fight with someone. And that “someone” knew very well what his name was. The whole street knew what his name was.

“Podi!” he hissed.

“Poda!”

As Kannalmozhi exchanged, ahem, pleasantries with Venky, Tandoori took advantage of the situation and wriggled out of her grasp.

The two fighter cocks were forced to declare a ceasefire when a speeding bike screeched to a halt, narrowly missing the runaway rooster.

“Aiyaaa!” shrieked Dulquer Anna, who was hurrying back after a doorstep delivery.

As Tandoori scurried to the safety of his arms, two men got off the bike. The pillion rider was tall and thin with a big, round face and a sweet smile.

“Lollipop,” Venky and Kannalmozhi chorused.

“Jinx!” Venky grinned before remembering he was angry and she was not his friend.

Meanwhile, the stocky bike rider whipped out his phone and began taking a flurry of photos of the banyan tree, helmet still on his head.

Chitthi’s mallipoo string wilted.

Savithri’s Mami’s colourful beads forgot to shine.

Kattappa, who was busy tasting his paw, paused mid-lick.

Even the flies buzzing over the net covering Kannalmozhi’s fruit stall paused for a nanosecond.

Only Chamathu ignored the pair. Tourists, bah, she said cattily. Of course, all the others heard was a meow.

Helmet turned towards the tree-lined stretch that separated the houses from the road. Another burst of ka-chick-ka-chick. He faced the road. More click-click.

He finally stuffed his phone into his back pocket and walked back to the rapt audience.

Sensing a business opportunity, Kannalmozhi darted back to her stall. “Fruits! Fruits! Fresh fruits!”

Not to be outdone, Chitthi held out a jasmine string. “Malli, Saar?”

Helmet waved a dismissive hand. “Time to pack up and go home,” he said curtly.

A puzzled look came over the flower seller’s face. “Now-a? Too early, no?”

Helmet gave a cluck of impatience. “All of you,” he waved his index finger. “You need to vacate this street!”

Excerpted with permission from Banian Buddies, Vibha Batra, Scholastic India.