Chapter Twenty

Dad, who had most of the inside information, came home the next morning looking like hell. He said he did not want to talk and needed a short nap. We sat listening to his uneven snoring while we waited silently. The night before, someone had taken a knife to a Muslim in Dharavi. Though this was not Dad’s jurisdiction, his police station, located in a Muslim area, was on high alert. They’d also received information that a group of individuals posing as officials of the Maharashtra Housing and Development Agency were making the rounds in Antop Hill, noting the residences of the Muslims.

Dad was trying to postpone confronting the real danger Ali and his mother were in. Finally he woke, walked to the mori silently, splashed water on his face, took down the towel from the clothes line and patted himself dry. He then walked out without saying a word. Mum and I followed him next door.

“Mr. Fernandes, I think we are running out of time. We have to find a solution as soon as possible. There is real and imminent danger to Ali and Mehroonisa. Everyone is looking at each other, distrustful, thinking they have to get the other first. Good, ordinary people are joining. I fear a complete breakdown of civil society. Much is out of the hands of the police. I fear for Ali and his mother. I fear, above all, we will never be able to live with ourselves if we don’t do something.”

From the other side of the L, where he’d been peering over the balustrade, suddenly Francis came running in. He rushed to Anna, who was cutting up some greeting cards, preparing to write a second plea to Ms. Ezekiel.

Ms. Ezekiel’s door, it seemed, had sprung to life. Francis described the way a fraction of a paper stuck out of her door and kept moving to and fro, slowly, from the left to the right of the door and then back to the left. “I am sure it is a signal for you, Anna!”

“Calm down, Francis, we cannot have anyone see us if what you say is true.” She stood, looking ready to run, but stopped short and walked slowly out of the door with Francis in tow.

Ivan and Susan walked over to the other side of the L to watch the proceedings, trying to look as casual as possible under the circumstances. We all agreed that secrecy meant safety for all concerned.

That was a very busy day for Dad. The violence had escalated and both sides were now actively ‘protecting themselves.’ There were reports that a big mob of Hindus, led by a bunch of self-styled keepers of the Hindu faith, and consequently of Hindu safety, had taken over the work of the police. Dad received a summons to report back at the station. The mob had attacked the Jogeshwari Police Station in protest for the lack of security for Hindus. Some enthusiastic mobsters had attacked Chacha Nagar Masjid, and the more zealous of them had thrown a few Muslims into the destruction, injuring them. Several Muslim huts in Magdum Nagar were subsequently set on fire by Hindus.

While Dad was gone, imparting strict instructions to all of us not to leave the house and not to be indiscreet with the information we had, Mum and I once again sat down with the Fernandes family. Mrs. Fernandes, who generally looked upon Mr. Fernandes to make all the decisions, not only in the family but in all matters, now showed an unusual firmness. No dear, you will not go to work this week. I will be very unhappy if you do and I will not forgive you if you do not keep yourself safe. Do not forget we have four children and you have a wife. Mum, not wanting to be left out of any conversation, said, “Yes, Mr. Fernandes, there is us too. We all depend on you and so do the neighbours. I read somewhere, ‘safety saves,’ so I completely agree. You have to be safe and we have yet to decide what to do with Ali and Mrs. Farooqui.”

Anna and Francis burst into the room at that moment, Anna waving a sheet of paper in the air. “She said yes, she said yes!” It took them at least ten minutes to calm down and breathe evenly. Might have been less, but for those of us who were waiting in suspense, it seemed like a very long time.

“Calm down, children,” Mrs. Fernandes said in her gentle voice. “Anna, my child, who said yes?”

“Ms. Ezekiel.”

“To what? Anna you are not making sense.”

Anna pushed the sheet of paper in front of her. “Look, she said yes!”

Mrs. Fernandes looked down at the paper, which had one word on it. It had, surprisingly, a very well written word, singular, mathematically centred on the page. Yes.

“Anna, can you take a moment and breathe in, my child. You know it is not good for your asthma. Ok, now, breathe in…breathe out…”

“Mu-m…” Anna, impatient to move on despite the loud wheezing that came through the silence, was interrupted by her mother’s resolutely calm voice.

“Breathe in…Anna, slow down, I said breathe in, ok now breathe out…”

Anna stopped talking, sat down and began breathing consciously under her mother’s direction like a metronome. Finally relaxed, she spoke.

“Mummy, I wrote to Ms. Ezekiel that the situation in the city is very bad and that they are targeting the Muslims, and we have special information that Ali and his mother are on the list. They could get killed if we do not intervene. I wrote: ‘Ms. Ezekiel, you will recall the plight of the Jews in Nazi Germany. I beg of you to help us. I apologise for all the times we have hurt you with our childish games. It was boredom and not malice. Please forgive us and help us now. Let me remind you, painful though it may be to you, that so many Jews were killed by such prejudice and injustice as is happening right now in this city. But then, who else could better understand Ali’s plight? Would you please consider keeping them in your apartment? We will provide the food they will need and they will be only grateful. Your apartment is the only one in this building that is above suspicion. Nobody will ever expect them to be with you. Not meaning to be disrespectful, but everyone knows you do not mingle and live completely cut off from the rest of the world. But I know in my heart, you have the kindness and love that every human is capable of, and I am begging you to once again find that part of yourself and help us. You are aware, I am sure, that many Jews survived because of their very generous neighbours who helped hide them…’”

“I am so proud of you my child,” Mrs. Fernandes said.

“You are indeed a good writer,” Isabel said, ready to praise everything Anna did. “Our Anna will be a famous writer one day.”

“So if we are to understand right, you believe that her yes is to your request to hide Ali?” I asked, not believing it could be so simple. “Are you sure you can trust her? Is she really going to have them?” All my questions were greeted with silence and frowns. Anna even looked pityingly at my scepticism, moving me to say, “So what next?”

“We need to plan this move carefully,” said Mr. Fernandes. “Do not forget we have the Surve family down there, and though they are our neighbours and very decent, these are unusual times. Muslims and Hindus who never did think like that are now looking at each other with suspicion and hatred. We do not know how the Surves are reacting to the problem.”

“Dad, what do I tell Ms. Ezekiel?”

For the first time I saw Mr. Fernandes hesitate. He just did not know. Then all of us began speaking at the same time, each feeling we had to fill in the gap in conversation. Finally, Mr. Fernandes held up his hand.

“We must send an interim reply. Anna, ask her if the night of the 7th will suit her. Word it in your own way. We need at least a day to get her response and perhaps a day or two to plan and get Mrs. Farooqui to agree to move. Isabelbai, will you convey it to Mrs. Farooqui? I cannot handle her tears, especially because her eyes are the only exposed part of her face. Today is already the 4th. We do not know if Ms. Ezekiel would agree to the 7th. In the meantime, we plan how to move them and what to do, and then Isabel will inform them.”