‘We have no choice,’ said Gitanjali. ‘I have asked him to cut his hair but he refuses to.’

‘If they find him, they will kill him,’ said Sunil Seth with revulsion.

‘So can we hide them in our house, Sunil?’

The headmaster consented.

Later Mumbles came upstairs with his wife and two daughters. They were to stay in the spare bedroom. Govinda stood quietly nearby when the girls arrived. He had never spoken to or taken notice of Mumbles’ daughters. When he tried to say ‘Hello’, they retreated and stood between their mother and father. They were shorter and younger than he and they looked as if they had been crying. Their kohlrimmed eyes didn’t move when Sunil Seth offered them sweets. The girls said thank you in a way that moved his mother to tears, and she threw her arms around them.

From inside the house Govinda heard explosions. When he went out on the verandah he saw smoke had enveloped Serpent Lane in a murky grey haze. The jumble of rooftops and washing lines blurred and merged with the dust-filled sky. Bit by bit, he saw the clutter of wires above the electricity poles and the grimy walls of the neighbouring houses, as well as a line of abandoned and burnt vehicles. He was breathing so hard he felt dizzy and nauseated.

Five men, dressed in ordinary clothes and carrying pitchforks, knives and swords, chased two teenage Sikh boys, under the gaze of a police spotlight, down the lane. He heard the five men shouting angrily, ‘Bharat Mata ki Jai’ – Long live Mother India. The two, young Sikhs were crying and injured, cut and bloody.

‘We are friends,’ shouted one of the boys.

Everyone – Bengali, Muslim, Hindu, Communist, Congressite, Christian – seemed to be deep in the violence. Govinda stared at the scene below until Gitanjali came and told him he was not to go outside again.

The rioting got worse later that night. Dacoits bearing weapons came to the gate and asked if there were any Sikhs in the compound. The dacoits wore bandanas to cover their faces. Sunil Seth and Tenzing confronted them and told them to go away.

‘There are no Sikhs here,’ insisted the headmaster.

‘Liar,’ said one of the men carrying a large knife. ‘We will burn this school!’

‘Listen, no Sikhs here. Instead of burning the school burn this,’ said Tenzing as he handed the man a cigarette. This took the men by surprise, and they moved on.

‘They will be back,’ said Tenzing. ‘But you have some time, Sir.’

That night, Govinda’s parents spoke to all the servants and informed them that they would be leaving them soon. ‘We are going to Australia,’ said the headmaster. ‘I did not expect to leave you like this and under these circumstances.’ The servants stood in a row and cried. Sunil Seth gave each of them an envelope with money.