the possibility of the power not being back by nightfall. Anil had sent another guard to the police station to see if they had any updates, and when he returned, it was with worrying news. More than half the cops, perhaps concerned about their own families, had deserted the station and left for their homes—some on bicycles and some simply on foot. The few that were still holding the fort at the station had no more idea of what was going on than in the morning, and seemed to be no less panicked than any of us.
Word did not seem to have spread about how to get the generators working, or perhaps every building did not have someone like Nitish, so only a small handful of buildings had any visible lights on. Those that did had all their lights on, not having been as prudent as us.
Almost the whole society was still gathered downstairs, though the party had pretty much wound up, and people were sitting around or gathered in small groups. I could see many people pull out their mobile phones every few minutes to see if they had revived. The unspoken question on everyone’s lips was when the power would be back, or when we would get any idea of what was happening, but so far there had been no good news, or indeed, news of any sort whatsoever.
Back in the NCC, one of the roles we had trained for was to complement the Army and civil authorities in times of natural disasters or emergencies, and one of the first things we were taught was to rally survivors into groups to help themselves. The best way of helping people get over the shock of something unpleasant happening to them is to get them busy, give them a sense of purpose. I walked over to Mrs Khatri and called her aside.
‘I think we should send someone to see if we can get some diesel from one of the petrol pumps nearby. There’s one opposite IIT and one near R City Mall, and both are no more than fifteen minutes away on bicycle. If this lasts, we will need more diesel for our generator.’
She looked at me and I could see renewed animation in her eyes. She may have been caught totally off-guard by the morning’s events, but she was known to have a strong maternal streak, the running joke being that she treated adults in the society like the errant kids she had taught for most of her life, and she was now fully engaged in trying to protect her flock.
‘Good thinking, Aaditya. I think we should send two groups out. One to gather fuel for the generator and another to go around all the apartments to take an inventory of what people have by way of emergency lights or torches. In a situation like this, we should pool what we have together.’
When she proposed the idea for a group to go out looking for fuel, several hands went up, and we had more than enough candidates to choose from. Pandey and his men got four of their bicycles and strapped two large canisters to the back of each cycle. Pandey and I were about to leave for the petrol pump near R City, when I sensed trouble. Mrs Khatri had just proposed the second idea of pooling resources and the man I saw shouting in the car park in the morning had stood up. ‘I’m not so sure about this,’ he was saying aggressively. ‘It’s fine to help each other and all that, but I don’t like the direction this is taking.’
Mrs Khatri tried to calm him.
‘Mr Suri, you know we don’t have lights in the flats, and with night almost upon us, we should see what we can do to help each other. We have a pregnant lady, two newborn babies and two families with very elderly people. They do need extra help, and knowing what our stock of emergency lights and torches is will help us ensure they’re supported in case the generator stops.’
Mr Suri just shook his head, standing his ground.
‘It’s not a torch or light I’m bothered about, it’s the principle of the thing. Yes, we all live in one building and should help out, but at the end of the day, we have our own homes and families to look after. This isn’t a communist
Word did not seem to have spread about how to get the generators working, or perhaps every building did not have someone like Nitish, so only a small handful of buildings had any visible lights on. Those that did had all their lights on, not having been as prudent as us.
Almost the whole society was still gathered downstairs, though the party had pretty much wound up, and people were sitting around or gathered in small groups. I could see many people pull out their mobile phones every few minutes to see if they had revived. The unspoken question on everyone’s lips was when the power would be back, or when we would get any idea of what was happening, but so far there had been no good news, or indeed, news of any sort whatsoever.
Back in the NCC, one of the roles we had trained for was to complement the Army and civil authorities in times of natural disasters or emergencies, and one of the first things we were taught was to rally survivors into groups to help themselves. The best way of helping people get over the shock of something unpleasant happening to them is to get them busy, give them a sense of purpose. I walked over to Mrs Khatri and called her aside.
‘I think we should send someone to see if we can get some diesel from one of the petrol pumps nearby. There’s one opposite IIT and one near R City Mall, and both are no more than fifteen minutes away on bicycle. If this lasts, we will need more diesel for our generator.’
She looked at me and I could see renewed animation in her eyes. She may have been caught totally off-guard by the morning’s events, but she was known to have a strong maternal streak, the running joke being that she treated adults in the society like the errant kids she had taught for most of her life, and she was now fully engaged in trying to protect her flock.
‘Good thinking, Aaditya. I think we should send two groups out. One to gather fuel for the generator and another to go around all the apartments to take an inventory of what people have by way of emergency lights or torches. In a situation like this, we should pool what we have together.’
When she proposed the idea for a group to go out looking for fuel, several hands went up, and we had more than enough candidates to choose from. Pandey and his men got four of their bicycles and strapped two large canisters to the back of each cycle. Pandey and I were about to leave for the petrol pump near R City, when I sensed trouble. Mrs Khatri had just proposed the second idea of pooling resources and the man I saw shouting in the car park in the morning had stood up. ‘I’m not so sure about this,’ he was saying aggressively. ‘It’s fine to help each other and all that, but I don’t like the direction this is taking.’
Mrs Khatri tried to calm him.
‘Mr Suri, you know we don’t have lights in the flats, and with night almost upon us, we should see what we can do to help each other. We have a pregnant lady, two newborn babies and two families with very elderly people. They do need extra help, and knowing what our stock of emergency lights and torches is will help us ensure they’re supported in case the generator stops.’
Mr Suri just shook his head, standing his ground.
‘It’s not a torch or light I’m bothered about, it’s the principle of the thing. Yes, we all live in one building and should help out, but at the end of the day, we have our own homes and families to look after. This isn’t a communist
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