Zarif Islam, the oldest fanatic leader amongst the mullahs, stepped forward and glanced at the heap of human flesh. He was taken aback by the unexpected retaliation and was angry to see so many of his men killed by just a handful of untrained Sikhs. His hate-filled eyes scanned the spacious hall and stopped when they saw a familiar face. The dead boy was lying under a broken table, his legs partially hidden under the heap. Suddenly something struck him. Was it? Zarif recognized the bold stripes on the long shirt. Hoping against hope, he quickly bent down and with some effort pushed aside the wooden table which was blocking his view. It was his own son, Anwar, lying in a pool of blood! His eyes popped out as excruciating pain shot through his chest. He fell on the floor, writhing in agony. Others came running and tried to calm him down but failed. His loud screams echoed in the empty hall. He held his son’s face and placed it on his lap. ‘My own son has sacrificed himself fighting the Kafirs for the sake of our faith. No Sikh or Hindu should be left alive in the Valley. Get rid of them all, kill them, burn them, destroy them, now! Leave me alone. Go, go, go!’ he screamed.

The mob acknowledged his words in unison and, following the mullah’s dictate, began exiting in a hurry. They rushed towards the next building, fire torches in hand, and set it alight. Having had their fill, they moved on, and the street was once again engulfed in silence. In the distance, one could hear the shrill battle cry, but other than that, there was only the stillness of death and dying.

Zarif sat numbly next to his son’s body and continued to sob uncontrollably. It is said that no pain is greater than losing one’s child. At this point, he had completely forgotten his own cruelty and was absorbed in his misery which seemed unique to him. ‘Didn’t I tell you to stay home? But you didn’t listen to me. Now see what has happened. O Allah, what have I done to deserve this? Why couldn’t you have some mercy on me? What will I do now? Anwar was my only child. How will I live without him?’ he wailed, but there was no one to hear his cries.