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Drag and drop the sentences according to the events of the lesson:
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‘What a time to ask for murukkus and dates!’ muttered Ammama’s mother.
Without Meenakshi Edathi, Ambazhathel family could not have existed happily for a single day.
They heard trees crashing to the ground. And a dog whining in the western yard.
They suddenly heard the sound of the rain from the south-west, like the roar of a vast crowd of people.
Ammamma and the grandmothers sat on the rolled-up mattresses stacked on the floor.
Malathikutty came back to Nalapat.
The thekkini was flooded and the water that had collected in the sunken courtyard of the nalukettu, the central hall with four wooden pillars, began to overflow.
A young man stood smiling in the waist-high water at the gate.
Meenakshi Edathi was a dark-skinned and middle aged woman.
Barely an hour after they got home, they heard the sound of the gale.
‘The number of huts and trees that have collapsed! Fowls lying dead everywhere, dead goats floating in the water -- what a sight!’
We spent the whole night in the southern room. By the time we woke up, the rain had stopped.
Ammayi arrived, drenched to the skin, unmindful of the thunder and lightning and driving rain.
Since the light had grown dim, Ammamma lit a brass lamp.
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