‘It’s better if you all wait on the terrace. Hindu homes are being targeted.’

‘But the rice is half-cooked—it’s still on the flame,’ protested Chand.

‘I’ll turn the gas off, Biji. You all wait upstairs please until this mob passes.’

Chand held Toshi close as they walked up the stairs, wrapping her dupatta protectively around her, as if it were a shield that would keep the mob at bay. Baldev grasped his father’s arm, as he hobbled up the railing-less staircase.

‘Wait here. I’ll be back soon,’ said Baldev, leaving them at the terrace landing.

As he turned to go, Baldev noticed their elderly neighbour, Zulaikha Gafoor, standing on her terrace, leaning over the edge of the parapet, looking down. Her face was ashen—as if she’d seen a ghost. Baldev followed her gaze. The angry band of marauders, armed with sickles, axes, sticks and spears, had stopped right outside Baldev’s house. Their leader was barking incendiary orders.

‘Flush out each and every kaafir! Don’t spare a single one of these infidels.’

Zulaikha gestured urgently to Baldev to bring his family on to her terrace. ‘Quickly, Baldev beta. All of you hide here. They will kill you,’ she whispered hoarsely.

Zulaikha’s frail frame was now the sturdiest support the Sahni family had. Baldev took one look at the barbaric frenzy of the rioters. He picked up Toshi in his arms and took a leap across the gap that separated the two terrace walls. Then he returned and helped his elderly parents make the difficult crossing, while Zulaikha extended her hand to help from the other side, each fervently hoping that they wouldn’t be spotted by the mob below.

‘I’ll be back with Nalini and Tarlok,’ Baldev whispered to them, as they sat crouched on the terrace. He took his parents’ and daughter’s hands in his and touched them to his eyes.

‘Wait until these rioters leave, beta,’ urged Lekhraj.

‘It’s not safe to go . . . ’ protested Chand.

‘Papaji! Someone’s entering our house—through the kitchen door!’ gasped Toshi. Peeping through the diamond-shaped holes in the parapet, she had noticed a man in the gloaming, sideling towards the rear entrance of their house.

Baldev cautiously raised his head over the edge of the parapet and saw him too. On looking closer, he realized that the man was his childhood friend, Abrar Ansari. Baldev felt a knot tighten in his stomach, as he watched Abrar quietly inch closer. Why was Abrar risking his life, approaching their house at this time? Abrar was almost at their kitchen door when someone from the mob noticed the tulsi plant in the Sahni family’s courtyard—a dead giveaway of a Hindu abode.

‘Look, a kaafir!’ he shouted, spotting Abrar’s furtive movements.

The cry ricocheted off the walls, getting the mob’s attention, even amidst all the clamour.

‘What’s a kaafir, Badi Ma?’ Toshi whispered to her grandmother. Chand didn’t reply. With trembling hands, she pulled Toshi closer. From the road below, Toshi could hear Abrar’s pleas.

‘I’m not Hindu. I’m Muslim. Please, believe me!’