Arjumand sat down heavily on the edge of her bed. What could she leave behind? What could she possibly take?

An hour later, Arjumand had only managed to pack her prayer mat, the photographs on her dresser and a few clothes, when there was a knock on her bedroom door. Arjumand turned to see Ghanshyam hesitating at the threshold of her room.

‘Yes, Ghanshyam? Has Javed sent you to call me?’

‘No, Bibiji. I just came to say that Raghu is downstairs.’

‘Oh! I haven’t met him in so long. He has forgotten us now that he has got a big government job, huh?’

Raghu was Ghanshyam’s son, whom Arjumand had known since he was a little boy. It was upon Arjumand’s insistence that Raghu had been sent to school rather than be groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps as domestic help. When Raghu completed his schooling, Arjumand had used her contacts to get him a compounder’s job in a government hospital nearby.

Ghanshyam shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, grappling for the right words, ‘He’s here to say that you should take refuge in the hospital for the night, Bibiji,’ he said apologetically. ‘He doesn’t think our home is safe enough for you. He’s got a taxi waiting for you outside.’

Arjumand clicked her tongue in exasperation. ‘All this is not necessary, Ghanshyam. All of you are overreacting—let me speak with Javed and sort things out.’

‘Javed Sahib is already at the hospital with Rukhsana Bibi, awaiting your arrival, Bibiji. Raghu spotted them near the orphanage and took them to the hospital, as the insurgents had already started making trouble. Then he came here to get you and . . . ’

Ghanshyam’s words evaporated as he heard distant chants of ‘Har har Mahadev! Har har Mahadev!’ His face grew pale and his voice took on a desperate urgency, ‘Please, Bibiji. We need to be quick. Please go with Raghu. These rioters are opportunists—ransacking homes and . . . committing terrible atrocities . . . please leave, Bibiji—’

He broke off, too upset to talk. Arjumand shut her eyes and sighed heavily. ‘If you say so, Ghanshyam. But I will return soon—as soon as this dark cloud lifts.’

Ghanshyam’s eyes glazed over, ‘I’ll be waiting for that day, Bibiji.’

Arjumand reached into her cupboard and handed Ghanshyam an embroidered silk purse. ‘In case I miss Raghu’s wedding at the end of this month, give these ruby earrings to his wife from me. You’ve done more for us than family would, Ghanshyam.’

Ghanshyam quietly wiped away a tear with his sleeve. He had worked with the Haiders his whole life, just as his father had before him. Seven decades of loyalty stood steadfast. ‘This . . . your having to leave like this . . . I’m so . . . so sorry, Bibiji.’

He shook his head, unable to find the words to express his deep sense of shame at what his community was inflicting upon the Haiders.