He drew off his skullcap and handed it to Tarlok who hesitantly took it. Abrar gave him a quick hug and left.

Five minutes later, Rahmat Bibi finished her namaz and looked up to find a frightened little boy standing by the door. Tarlok flinched as she hobbled towards him.

‘You’re Baldev’s little boy, aren’t you, beta?’ she asked, gently. ‘How did you get here? Is Baldev outside?’

Before Tarlok could respond, there came a loud banging on the door. Rahmat Bibi went over to the window, drew back the curtain and peeped out. It was a crowd of angry insurgents. She looked around in panic and noticed Abrar’s skullcap in Tarlok’s hand.

‘Put the cap on, beta, and sit there on the prayer mat,’ she said.

She opened the door, adjusting her headscarf as she did so. The mob almost knocked her frail body down as they charged inside, looking around like rabid animals. One of them burst into her kitchen while another went towards her bedroom. They searched the whole house—behind the curtains, under the beds.

‘What are you looking for?’ asked Rahmat Bibi.

‘There are kaafirs among us. Some of our own people are hiding these godforsaken Hindus and Sikhs. We have to find them and finish them off.’

The leader of the mob looked around the house. He saw Tarlok seated on the prayer mat, Abrar’s skullcap on his little head.

‘Apologies, Aapa. It looks like we disturbed your namaz. I hope Allah will forgive us,’ he said.

Rahmat Bibi shook her head sadly. ‘I hope so too for what you are doing is certainly not Allah’s bidding.’

The man glared at her.

‘We’ll be back,’ he said. ‘Let us know if you see anything or anyone suspicious.’

The rioters left as suddenly as they had erupted into the house, leaving behind a hiatus of shell-shocked silence.

Rahmat Bibi went over to Tarlok. He was trembling with fear, having seen the threatening men with their sharp knives and weapons.

‘It will be all right,’ Rahmat Bibi said gently. She secured the windows and doors as quickly as she could and took him into the kitchen. She tried to pick him up with her old, feeble arms to seat him on the kitchen counter, but the effort made her wheeze and she doubled up, coughing.

Tarlok quietly went and got her a cup of water. She took it gratefully from him and drank it. Rahmat Bibi warmed a cup of milk for Tarlok, took out a tin of rusks and offered them to him. He looked hesitant but then took both—dipping the rusk in the milk, just as he did at home.

‘When will my Biji and Papaji come to get me?’ he asked Rahmat Bibi.

‘They should be here any time now, beta,’ she lied.

Abrar Ansari headed for his friend, Baldev Sahni’s house, to assure them that Tarlok was safe and to try and get the rest of the family to safety too. The sun was setting and Abrar slipped into the shadows, hoping to make it into the side entrance of the Sahni house, so as to avoid the large mob on the main street.