The constable rushed back to see the tonga leaving. He had not found any help nearby. He was perplexed to see the burqa hanging over the latch. He could hear groaning sounds coming from inside. Hesitating and with trembling fingers, he unhooked the burqa, removed the key from the holder and opened the lock. Slowly and apprehensively, he pushed the door open. He stepped inside carefully and almost froze when he saw his boss lying on his stomach on the floor in a thick pool of his own blood. A broken flowerpot lay scattered all around him. In a state of utter shock and dismay, he bent down and tried to turn the unconscious SHO on his side but fell back when he saw the nib sticking out of his left eye. The barbarity of the act stunned him. He covered his mouth with his hands and let out a blood-curdling scream. But he knew he didn’t have time to mourn; he had to act fast. He stood up and ran helter-skelter till he located the jeep keys. With great effort, he dragged the SHO outside, leaving a trail of blood and dirt, and managed to lay him on the back seat. He was shaking from the effort. He looked at his senior’s face again; the pen was still in his eye. Without giving it another thought, he pulled it out and immediately covered the eye with a piece of cloth. Fortunately, this stopped the bleeding. He quickly took charge of the steering wheel and drove cautiously to the nearest hospital in Sadali district.

In the meantime, Bibi reached home to find a large group of women assembled in front of her home. They were surprised to see her without her burqa. As the tonga stopped, she stepped down, and, without saying a word to the women, rushed into her home and bolted the door from inside. But like jungle fire, stories about her act of bravery reached every ear in no time. It generated praise and fear in equal measure. Even though Sakhiullah was respected by the villagers, most women feared police retaliation. They were all aware of the brutality with which cops often operated, especially in rural areas where they were treated like demigods. When Sakhiullah arrived that evening, he was shocked to learn about the turn of events. He rushed to the army camp situated near his house and narrated the story to the deputy camp commander, a young army captain named Ishtiaq, who was also his first cousin. ‘I need urgent help, Ishtiaq. We have no time to waste. It won’t be long before the police come banging at our doors. And that could mean serious trouble; not only for Bibi, but for the entire family!’