They came out of the well to dress themselves in white saris, the mark of widows in India.
That was when we met Ramaswamy (not his real name), who was walking listlessly, pain written all over his face.
He, a successful businessman, is married with two children. But there he was in a bad wig, pink lipstick and dressed in a colourful half-sari.
"Please don't click my picture," he said. "My wife and daughters do not know I come here. I told them I was going to another temple. If they knew where I was and how I was dressed, they would commit suicide.
"But I have to be here," he continued. "It is this visit and these two days that help me live the rest of the year. I tied the thali because I was in pain inside.
"This is the only time I feel complete and happy. I am sad because the festival is over and I have to wait for one more year to be here, to be what I am."
As he spoke, his eyes brimmed with tears.
We could see a huge pile of broken thalis on the field, like broken dreams.
Also see: 'The complexity of India is most appealing'
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