“From the hole in the box, I could see them beat Abba until he couldn’t move. Ammi begged them to spare him but they held her back by the hair and one of them tore her clothes and laughed.
Then they tied Abba in a sack and dragged him out. We couldn’t find him after that. I’m afraid they threw him in a nullah to drown, like Zameer bhaijaan next door and Imran bhaijaan who ran the bicycle shop.
They were crying ‘Jai Shri Ram!’ (Victory be with Ram). I wonder who this Ram is and how he could win by killing those who weren’t even fighting against him.”
By the time it was dusk, he was tired of hiding in the old warehouse. He had looked for shapes in the peeling paint of the walls all day. Now that the hall was darkening, he was a little spooked, not that he would ever admit it.
Suddenly he found a shape resembling a face of a man clutching something. Was it a knife?
He looked away trying to curb the guilt and dread rising in his chest, only to find one that resembled a woman dead on the floor.
Suddenly, the peeling paint that was her hand moved slightly.