The DM’s bungalow was grand, but it no longer felt like a house. It had turned into a refuge, a place where fear and hope coexisted uneasily.
The once-polished floors were now covered with hastily spread-out mats, where families huddled together in small clusters. The grand dining hall, where dignitaries once sat for elaborate meals, had been turned into a waiting area.
The doors and windows were locked tight, guarded by policemen who barely spoke. Occasionally, someone would whisper a question—“Any news?”—but the answer was always the same: “We’re waiting.”
Waiting was the hardest part. Days blurred into nights, and time stretched endlessly. People sat in corners, speaking in hushed tones, whispering prayers under their breath.
Mrs. Ghosh found herself drawn to the other women, talking about everything and nothing just to keep the silence from swallowing them whole.
“We left in such a hurry, I didn’t even take my woolen shawl,” murmured one woman.
“Forget the shawl, my husband didn’t even let me grab my jewelry,” another sighed.
Someone chuckled dryly. “At least you all got time to pack something. My son came out without his slippers!”
Despite the fear hanging in the air, these little conversations offered a strange comfort, a proof that life, even in its most fragile moments, still carried on.
Meena stayed close to her mother but barely spoke. She clung to Kassy, her pink teddy, now her only constant in this strange new reality. She would sit by the window, peeking through the curtain slits, hoping to see her father walking up the path. The hall buzzed with people, but Meena felt a sense of loneliness.
At night, when the murmurs died down and only the occasional wail of a child or the sound of distant gunfire punctured the silence, Meena would whisper to Kassy.
“Do you think Baba will come tomorrow?”
Kassy, of course, said nothing. But in the quiet, she imagined the teddy’s soft smile reassuring her—“Yes, he will. Just wait a little longer.”
In moments of crisis, strangers become family. That was happening here, inside the bungalow.
The men, including Mr. Mohanty, took turns patrolling the corridors, ensuring that the doors remained locked and no one wandered outside. The women rationed food, making sure every child got something before the adults ate.
Meena found unexpected companionship in a boy named Ravi, who was a few years older and had a knack for making even the gloomiest moment feel lighter.
“You know,” he said one afternoon, balancing a small pebble on his finger, “if I was the DM, I’d have secret tunnels under this house. One leading straight to a sweet shop.”
Meena managed a small smile. “And another one to a bookshop,” she added.
“See? You get it.”
For a moment, the fear faded, replaced by the shared imagination of a world where escape routes led to happiness instead of uncertainty.
Every evening, the DM would gather everyone and share whatever little news he had. Most of it wasn’t good.
“The situation is still volatile,” he announced one night, his voice firm but tired. “We will stay here until we receive further orders.”
No one asked how long? No one wanted to hear the answer.
As the days passed, Meena started to wonder—would life ever go back to the way it was? Would their home still be standing when they returned? She didn’t ask her mother. She was missing Kasturi more than ever. She just held onto Kassy a little tighter, listening to the quiet hum of voices around her.
Meena listened to the hushed conversations around her. “They say it started because a Bengali woman called an Odia “randhuni (cook), but who knows the actual reason?” a voice murmured. Meena couldn’t make sense of it, just like so many other things in the past few days.
PS: I’m participating in #BlogchatterA2Z
Cerebration 
It seems the story has taken a dramatic turn, riots and all. But I like the imagination that Ravi has –secret tunnels with bookshops and sweet shops. Now, am keen to know whether Meena and Kasturi ever meet again.
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Yes, it reminds us that sometimes, all we need are simple, child-like imaginations to rise above the turmoil surrounding us. Will Meena and Kasturi ever reunite? Stay tuned to find out.
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I’m glad Meena has found a friend in Ravi and that too someone with a funny bone who is helping keep the dread and fear at bay. Loved this line, ”Life, even in its most fragile moments, still carried on.“
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I loved the way you ended this chapter. While I thoroughly enjoyed Meena’s presence in this new atmosphere, the bungalow, and also how she found someone new in her life, Ravi, I loved the most how you added the bit of suspense in the ending. “In moments of crisis, strangers become family.” I have been there and this strange kind of feeling is much better than facing betrayal from the loved ones.
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Thank you so much for reading the story the way you do and for loving it too.
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/these little conversations offered a strange comfort, a proof that life, even in its most fragile moments, still carried on./
It is necessary my friend. Well written. 👍 Your line made me to remember the pain of Indian partition. No shelter, no guarantee about future, not even proper toilets; the situation is negative. Still organisers screened Tom & Jerry movies to keep the people feel optimistic.
I admire Mr. Mohanty. People like him build trust in our community and make our neighborhood safer.
Ravi’s ideas about underground tunnels reflect the curiosity of his age.
The tension has not yet eased, but I hope good things will happen soon.
All the best.
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Tom&jerry or Charlie Chaplin – I do not recall exactly 🤔
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Oh, never mind! I will do some research on it, seems interesting! I’m sure, whichever it was, it must have offered some respite to the people.
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Oh, really! I wasn’t aware of the screening of Tom & Jerry movies. It’s fascinating how such things can reconnect us to past happiness or offer a strange comfort during grim times.
This sentiment is beautifully reflected in Ravi’s character, whose innocence and childlike imagination provide a much-needed breather for Meena, who has been going through a tough phase.
Indeed, every dark night is followed by dawn, so let’s hope for the better days to arrive soon.
Thank you so much for your thoughtful input and your constant support! Means a lot.
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Kassy seems to have become a constant yet inanimate proxy companion for Meena through all these tense moments.
Nice to see another human with similar circumstances enter the mix in the form of Ravi.
Curious to find out in due course whether Kassy holds sway, or Ravi ends up taking its place.
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Fragile egos are what cause destruction and change hearts – you’ve depicted this so well through this post, Pinki. Love the turn your story has taken.
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I am glad to know that you liked the plot twists. Thank you!
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Why would someone get angry to be called a Randhuni ! Waiting to see what happens next !
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