state where someone can decide to take from one home and give to another because they think they have a greater need. I’m sure the lights will be back soon enough and we won’t need this silliness anyway.’
A few more voices were raised in his support and Mrs Khatri looked at me haplessly. She was the elected leader of the committee but there was really nothing she could do to force someone to do anything, especially under the strange circumstances we found ourselves in. Seeing her falter, Suri took a step towards her, pointing his finger at her. He was a big man, thick around the waist, but perhaps most of that had been muscle when he was twenty years younger. Mrs Khatri was frail and pushing sixty. She involuntarily took a step back as he walked towards her.
‘You can run your committee and pretend to be the leader, but nobody is coming into my home to take my things.’
You do some things without consciously realizing it, or planning for it. Call it instinct, call it conditioning, but something in me snapped. I stepped between them and looked Suri in the eye. He was big—perhaps just a shade shorter than six feet—but that extra inch or two he had on me would not count for much. I was at least fifteen years younger and in pretty good shape. My eyes bored in on his but I had a smile on my face and I spoke politely.
‘Sir, there is no need to get angry. I’m sure we’ll all be fine soon enough, but getting angry at each other will not help.’
He looked me in the eye for a couple of seconds and then backed away, walking back to his family, muttering something under his breath. I glanced back and saw that Mrs Khatri was looking at me with relief on her face.
‘Ma’am, we need to get going to gather that fuel. I’ll take a cycle and go near R City. Nitish?’
He came over and I asked him to take the second team.
‘Why me?’
‘Because you’re fit and look like you can handle yourself if there’s trouble. Take one of those college kids with you.’
He looked at me sceptically. ‘Trouble?’
‘I don’t want to spook the others, but with the cops leaving the station, no lights, no communication and no news on what’s going on, the wrong kind of people might be getting ideas.’
He didn’t look entirely convinced but went to ask one of the guards for a bicycle as Pandey and I rode away.
The last time I had ridden a bicycle would have been some fifteen years earlier, but soon I got the hang of it and was swiftly riding up Central Avenue, followed closely by Pandey. I could barely suppress a smile as he huffed and puffed as he pedalled hard to keep up, but the old Army pride prevented him from asking me to slow down.
While the morning had seen crowds outside the banks and shops, the road was now deserted and most shops were closed, the employees presumably having gone home to look after their own families. As I approached Galleria, the old collection of shops where people would normally be hanging out at this time, I saw that it too was deserted. We turned right and saw a police van parked near the entrance to the private road that led to our destination, but there were no cops in sight. Most buildings around us were totally dark—either they had not figured out how to get their generators working, or perhaps, as was likely, those generators were faulty to begin with and never been properly repaired. The thought of our building standing out with its lights on in the middle of the darkness as night fell suddenly made me very uncomfortable and I stepped up the pace.
‘Pandeyji, hurry up.’
I think he had also sensed much the same as I, because he started pedalling with a fury, all huffing and puffing replaced by a grim determination. The road to the petrol pump was lined with small shops, offices and slums, but all the shops were closed and there were hardly any people to be seen on the road. It was now nearly completely dark since none of the streetlights were working, and all I wanted to do
A few more voices were raised in his support and Mrs Khatri looked at me haplessly. She was the elected leader of the committee but there was really nothing she could do to force someone to do anything, especially under the strange circumstances we found ourselves in. Seeing her falter, Suri took a step towards her, pointing his finger at her. He was a big man, thick around the waist, but perhaps most of that had been muscle when he was twenty years younger. Mrs Khatri was frail and pushing sixty. She involuntarily took a step back as he walked towards her.
‘You can run your committee and pretend to be the leader, but nobody is coming into my home to take my things.’
You do some things without consciously realizing it, or planning for it. Call it instinct, call it conditioning, but something in me snapped. I stepped between them and looked Suri in the eye. He was big—perhaps just a shade shorter than six feet—but that extra inch or two he had on me would not count for much. I was at least fifteen years younger and in pretty good shape. My eyes bored in on his but I had a smile on my face and I spoke politely.
‘Sir, there is no need to get angry. I’m sure we’ll all be fine soon enough, but getting angry at each other will not help.’
He looked me in the eye for a couple of seconds and then backed away, walking back to his family, muttering something under his breath. I glanced back and saw that Mrs Khatri was looking at me with relief on her face.
‘Ma’am, we need to get going to gather that fuel. I’ll take a cycle and go near R City. Nitish?’
He came over and I asked him to take the second team.
‘Why me?’
‘Because you’re fit and look like you can handle yourself if there’s trouble. Take one of those college kids with you.’
He looked at me sceptically. ‘Trouble?’
‘I don’t want to spook the others, but with the cops leaving the station, no lights, no communication and no news on what’s going on, the wrong kind of people might be getting ideas.’
He didn’t look entirely convinced but went to ask one of the guards for a bicycle as Pandey and I rode away.
The last time I had ridden a bicycle would have been some fifteen years earlier, but soon I got the hang of it and was swiftly riding up Central Avenue, followed closely by Pandey. I could barely suppress a smile as he huffed and puffed as he pedalled hard to keep up, but the old Army pride prevented him from asking me to slow down.
While the morning had seen crowds outside the banks and shops, the road was now deserted and most shops were closed, the employees presumably having gone home to look after their own families. As I approached Galleria, the old collection of shops where people would normally be hanging out at this time, I saw that it too was deserted. We turned right and saw a police van parked near the entrance to the private road that led to our destination, but there were no cops in sight. Most buildings around us were totally dark—either they had not figured out how to get their generators working, or perhaps, as was likely, those generators were faulty to begin with and never been properly repaired. The thought of our building standing out with its lights on in the middle of the darkness as night fell suddenly made me very uncomfortable and I stepped up the pace.
‘Pandeyji, hurry up.’
I think he had also sensed much the same as I, because he started pedalling with a fury, all huffing and puffing replaced by a grim determination. The road to the petrol pump was lined with small shops, offices and slums, but all the shops were closed and there were hardly any people to be seen on the road. It was now nearly completely dark since none of the streetlights were working, and all I wanted to do
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