The village house has an attic for pickles for a fussy grandmother to bring down ,for son-in-law arriving from far village. The pickles are brought down , sun-dried as son-in-law is bathed and fed in love. Has’t he come from far-off paddy fields ,in knee-deep slush, writhing with snakes with half -eaten frogs in closed mouths?
There is paddy lady rolling tongue on song about rain to bring rice on the sun’s death. In a slush the sun falls to temporary death. Just before dusk he will be whisked away to the posterior of an attic behind the hills.
All grandma’s pickles are left to dry in sun. But the sun is dead in attic behind grandma.The son-in-law is caught in the slush of rice. He rolls up his lower garment as the snake loosens mouth around the half-eaten frog.