‘Paati too was unable to speak. She was too exhausted. She clamped her hand on my aunt’s mouth, then raised her folded hands high and said, “Appayi, how can you leave us here and go? Instead why don’t you kill us? We should not scatter at this moment of crisis. Be it in death or life, we have to stay together. We must trust in god!”

‘She gently dragged Chennadevi, sitting next to her like a weary fleeing deer, hugged her face to her lap and said, “Bangaru, little child, Aparanji,” caressing her back, and went on in a choked voice, “When Sita was born, Lanka was destined to be ruined. Who knows which Muslim land is going to be destroyed because you were born?”

‘My uncle barked out a sad laugh, “It doesn’t look like any Muslim land is going to be destroyed. Only we are wrecked!”

‘There was a line of lit torches we spotted in the distance, like fire-breathing peys. We ran again, like hunted animals. We ran so fast that we thought our lungs would burst and we would die.

‘A new day was born and the rain looked closer. We had landed near a river which was flooded. We had no place to run to farther. The river had interrupted our path. It would have been a godsend if there was a boat or a boatman who could take us across the river. Then we could have breathed in peace.

‘As we stood wringing our hands, we could spy the Muslim soldiers, with huge spears, hunting for us on horses.

‘The old woman was ranting that it was better to drown in the flood than be caught by the Muslim army. Suddenly she stopped seething, raised her folded hands high and called in joy, “Govindappa … Govindappa … what miracle is this?”

‘On the other shore was a peepul tree, as tall as a temple tower, bent down towards us. Initially we thought the tree was about to break and fall into the river. But the tree bent low enough to touch our shore and became erect again. That is when we realized that this was divine intervention. The old paati called our attention to it.

‘Once again the tree swung towards us. Paati cried to us, “My children, hold on tight to the tree’s branches. It will take us to safety.”

‘We clung on to the peepul tree’s limbs with all our might. Just as the soldiers neared us, the tree straightened. We were scared we would loose our grip in sheer relief!

‘I can still recall the sight of the army gaping at us being carried away by the tree, speechless. It was not for nothing that our ancestors spent hours circling the peepul tree, worshipping it ardently.

‘When we landed on the other shore, it began pouring. There has never been a downpour like that since that day. Sheets of water showered down so that not only could we not see the army on the opposite shore, we could not see the person next to us.’