The screeching sound of tyres against asphalt woke him up. He looked around to find Bibi sitting in the same meditative posture as she had the night before. He observed that the entire stock of firewood had been consumed to keep the room warm through the night. He picked up the remaining sticks, broken branches and wood scraps and shoved them into the fire. He stirred the flickering embers with an iron rod, reviving the fire. A honk from outside made him look up. He walked to the window to see a caravan of military trucks moving slowly. The one in front was clearing the snow to provide a clear passage to the following vehicles.

The snowfall had stopped completely and the valley was bathed in warm sunshine. ‘Oh, I slept for too long!’ he exclaimed aloud in surprise, breaking Bibi’s concentration. She opened her eyes, bowed at the holy book in front and walked towards the priest.

‘I am thankful to you, Sir, for coming to my rescue yesterday. Without that, I would not have survived the cold.’

‘It’s all by God’s grace, Bibi. I did nothing,’ he responded and went towards the door. His sharp ears had picked up the gentle knocking. ‘Who would come in such conditions?’ he murmured as he pulled the wooden doors open.

‘Bhaiji, is Dadi Ma inside?’ Arif asked with a worried face. The innocent look in his eyes touched the priest’s heart.

‘Yes, son, she’s here. Come in,’ he said softly.

The boy hurriedly took off his shoes and ran to where Bibi was squatting and hugged her from behind. ‘Dadi Ma, someone has come to meet you. He has brought your passport. It is stamped with the visa for Pakistan. Baba wants you to come home and sign some papers.’

Bibi heard him patiently but, surprisingly, didn’t show much excitement. The priest jumped up with joy and came running. ‘Your prayers have been answered, Bibi! Go, meet your children. Honestly, I can’t believe this is happening. It’s as if God himself decided to descend on earth to answer your prayers. Go, Bibi, don’t delay!’

Bibi remained quiet. She walked up to the holy book and knelt down. Her forehead touched the soft white cloth covering the carpet. Her lips were moving, but there was no sound. She was conversing with her God. Both were talking, it appeared, yet there was complete silence. She stood up a minute later, held the young boy’s hand and began walking towards the door. The priest watched them leave and then closed his eyes and prayed. ‘Please, O Lord, help Bibi meet her family. I pray to you.’