At 4 AM, the doorbell rang. A sharp, urgent sound that cut through the heavy silence of the night.
Mrs. Ghosh sat up with a start, her heartbeat hammering in her ears. Who could it be at this hour? She hesitated, gripping the edge of her saree, her mind racing through possibilities. The riots… the voices outside last night… had something happened?
She slowly got out of bed, careful not to wake Meena, who was curled up on the mattress with Kassy clutched to her chest. Taking slow, measured steps, she reached the front window and peeked through the gap in the curtains.
Mr. Mohanty was standing outside, his face pale under the dim streetlight. Relief and confusion clashed in her mind as she unbolted the door and opened it just enough to see his face.
“Dada?” she whispered, her voice laced with fear.
He stepped closer, glancing over his shoulder as if to check if someone was watching. Then, in a hushed yet urgent tone, he said, “The District Magistrate has ordered everyone to shift to his bungalow immediately.”
Mrs. Ghosh’s hands tightened on the doorframe. “But… why? What happened?”
“The situation is worsening,” he said, his voice tense. “There have been more attacks near the station. It’s not safe here anymore. The DM (District Magistrate) is taking people in—his bungalow is heavily guarded. He wants us there before sunrise.”
She swallowed hard, her thoughts immediately turning to Mr. Ghosh. “But… my husband isn’t home. He’s in Bhubaneswar.”
“We know. We’re in touch with him,” Mr. Mohanty reassured her. “He’ll join us at the bungalow tomorrow once he’s back. But you and Meena must leave now.”
Mrs. Ghosh’s chest tightened. Every instinct told her to stay put, to wait for her husband. But then she looked at Meena, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the chaos outside. There was no choice.
She nodded. “Give me a moment.”
Within minutes, she packed a small bag—some clothes, important documents, a bottle of water. She debated carrying more but knew she had no time. When she woke Meena and told her they had to leave, the child rubbed her eyes sleepily, confusion etched on her face.
“Where are we going, Ma?”
“Somewhere safe, shona. Hold Kassy tight.”
Meena clutched the teddy bear as Mrs. Ghosh threw a shawl over both their shoulders. The air outside was cold, eerily still, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
The streets were ghostly quiet as they walked towards the DM’s bungalow. Families moved in hurried whispers, some carrying children half-asleep, others gripping bags hastily stuffed with whatever essentials they could grab.
As they approached the bungalow, Meena looked up. She had always admired this house from a distance—set on a small hill, its colonial-style structure stood apart from the other houses in Khurda Road.
Tonight, however, it looked different. The tall gates, usually left open, were now guarded by armed policemen. Shadows moved behind the iron railings. The warm glow of lanterns flickered from inside, casting long, uneasy silhouettes.
Mrs. Ghosh held Meena’s hand tighter as they stepped in. Inside, chaos reigned. The living room, once a grand space with its high ceilings and wooden furniture, had turned into a makeshift shelter.
People were scattered across the floor, some whispering anxiously, others just sitting in silence. Children huddled against their mothers, and elderly men leaned against the walls, their eyes filled with worry.
PS: I’m participating in #BlogchatterA2Z
Cerebration 
The narrative captures the tension and fear of a sudden evacuation amidst escalating violence, painting a vivid picture of Mrs. Ghosh’s internal struggle and maternal instincts. The early morning urgency, the quiet chaos, and the protective embrace of a mother for her child are portrayed with poignant realism. The description of the District Magistrate’s bungalow transforming into a refuge highlights the stark contrast between safety and the surrounding turmoil. It’s a powerful reminder of the resilience people exhibit in the face of uncertainty and danger. The story also subtly touches on themes of community solidarity and the human capacity to adapt quickly in crisis situations. The imagery of families moving silently through the night, clutching their belongings and children, evokes a universal sense of vulnerability and hope. This piece not only tells a compelling story but also prompts readers to consider the real-life implications of such events on ordinary lives. It’s a testament to the strength and courage that often go unnoticed in times of conflict. I’m eager to read the next installment and see how Mrs. Ghosh and her community navigate the challenges ahead.
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First things first, that featured image really had me thinking of Gurukul from Mohabbatein. Lol ! That’s just my filmy side kicking in.
But the content of this piece was nothing like the movie. The tension you’ve managed to create through the characters’ feelings and the setting on the streets and inside the DM’s house, really left me unsettled. Really hoping against hope for no tragedy to strike the Ghosh family
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Hahaha..I actually revisited the featured image after reading your comment. It does have similarities 😅
As far as the story goes, your comment reassures me that the narration was good enough to unsettle the reader for the time being..Thanks for staying with the story.
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Oh wow. And carrying so little… I hope their home is safe!
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Well I am sure even the Ghosh family is praying for the same. Let’s hope for the best!
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You captured the neighborhood’s tension perfectly. Mr. Mohanty’s morning warning made me feel uneasy. The moment Mrs. Ghosh noticed Meena sleeping peacefully really stood out to me.
And for your phrase:
“Uneasy silhouettes” is a beautifully crafted expression. Well done!
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Thank you for noticing these subtelieties and the expressions that add value to the narration. It motivates me to do better everytime. Thank you for staying with the story!
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The featured image of this chapter itself speaks volumes! It’s such a haunting picture and it reminds me of the Bengal Partition saga. “The streets were ghostly quiet as they walked towards the DM’s bungalow.” This one line brought to me the gruesome reality of that night. The eerie darkness when people have no foresight of the future yet they have hope in their hearts. You have portrayed the night beautifully!
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Thank you for your kind words. I am thrilled that I was able to convey the emotions and eeriness through words!
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If I were Mrs Ghosh, I’d have probably stayed put for fear of getting ambushed. She is fortunate to have reliable neighbors like Mohanty who can give her the strength and assurance to make the bold move of walking up to the DM’s house.
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What a time for Mr Ghosh to be away! I was screaming silently, DON’T GO! DON’T GO! However I am glad Mrs Ghosh and Meena went. Hopefully they will be safe!
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It was as if fate was testing Meena in the absence of her father and Kasturi. Yes, atleast they were safe. Thank you for sharing your thoughts!
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This post reminds me of my own Baba being away & stuck during the 1999 super cyclone in Odisha ! Very well written.
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