This was hard for Balwant to digest. Even in his wildest dreams, he had not imagined that his own Muslim friends, especially those who had taken umpteen favours and had sworn by him, would lead a riotous mob in the direction of his house. They were holding weapons, hurling abuses and baying for his blood. Panic-stricken and in deep shock, he quickly gathered his entire family of twelve, which included his three brothers, their wives and children, including four teenage daughters, into one room and bolted it from inside. Being the eldest, he stood with his back to the front door. That’s when he saw their horrified faces. Things had escalated so quickly that none of them had had the time to contemplate. It was only then they understood the gravity of the situation and the danger they were in. The look on Balwant’s face distressed them even more. ‘I have helped each one of these mullahs for decades, given them rock-solid support in their times of need. And today they have declared us enemies because we are not Muslims? Just because some gora sitting in his plush office in London has drawn a vague line on the map? These select traitors have put a blot on the entire Muslim community. How are we to ever trust each other again?’ Balwant muttered.

Meanwhile, with every passing moment, the chorus outside was growing louder, adding to the tension and fear. Balwant peeped out from the small window and saw hundreds of rioters flashing burning torches. In the background, he could see other Hindu houses being looted and burnt. The brainwashed crowd was mercilessly chopping the heads and other body parts of the Hindus, leaving cries, screams and flames behind. He could hear chants of ‘Allahu Akbar!’ The shouting brigade soon reached Balwant Singh’s home, and in a single attempt broke down the tall steel gate. Within moments, they reached the strong teakwood entrance door and began beating the polished structure with spears, hammers and swords.

‘We shall fight!’ said Balwant hurriedly to his brothers in a voice that was shaky with emotions but firm. ‘Let no one be taken alive,’ he continued and looked at his wife, Priti, who rushed to his side. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

‘Please kill us all first. Make sure that no girl is left alive to be raped by these bastards. Please, Balwant, are you listening?’ she said, pummelling her husband’s chest with her fists.

Balwant froze on hearing these words. He looked at his wife in disbelief, mentally mustering up the courage to take the dreadful step. He knew he didn’t have a lot of time as the front door had begun to shake violently, threatening to collapse any moment. Balwant walked towards his brothers, folded his hands and said in a polite tone, ‘If this is what Waheguru demands of us, then so be it. We shall comply.’