Muthuvel didn't argue. He simply woke up at 3 AM, walked to the two acres, and began digging. Not for water—there was none. He was digging to find the old brine springs that his grandfather had sealed when the government raised the salt tax. Old-timers whispered that Veerasamy had blocked the best springs with ironwood logs so no one else could claim them.

But salt doesn't forgive neglect. When Veerasamy died, the pans were divided among six sons, then subdivided among eighteen grandsons, then mortgaged, then sold. By the time Muthuvel was born, all that remained was two acres of cracked, white-crusted earth that produced nothing but memories.

Then Amudha's father, Rajendran, arrived with six men and two bulldozers.

Muthuvel's family had once owned thirty acres of salt pans along the coast. His grandfather, old Veerasamy, was called "The Salt King"—not because he was rich, but because he gave away more salt than he sold. During the 1980 famine, he opened his godowns to five villages without asking for a single rupee.

"It's common water," Muthuvel said. "My grandfather's deed proves it."

"No," he said.