Taken from the July 2012 issue of Dazed & Confused:

Tochi kept the headlights off as he drove. Huts were ablaze, and people rolled about screaming on the ground, their backs on fire. He stopped at the sand-filled fountain. A woman was walking around screaming violently that the evil dogs had burned down her house. That she was going to kill them all with her bare hands. Beyond her, more orange-clad rioters were coming down through the gate, their calls whooping across the night. Tochi turned round and drove past Kishen’s and past their lane and made for the fields, urging the auto onto the long curving track that penned in the crops. The track itself was a puzzle of half-submerged rocks and each sharp bump had Palvinder calling out for her mother.

The men were calling to him, brazen and gesturing with their bottles that he come to them

“Where are you going?” Tochi’s father asked. He didn’t reply. He knew the track would eventually lead them to the river but from there he didn’t know what they would do or where they would go. Branches whipped across the roof. He heard his sister say she was scared and then his mother said not to be, that it was all going to be fine. He noticed his licence card and ripped it from the dashboard and threw it outside. Then he looked at Dalbir, his brother: he was still staring straight ahead, his hands gripping fiercely the sides of his busted chair. But now he pointed, and Tochi looked. There were buffalo, tethered to the trees. And people. Motorbikes, too, and maybe a jeep. Tochi slowed right down. If he turned round he wouldn’t be able to outrace them. 

“Just say God’s name and all will be well,” Tochi’s mother said, quietly. The men were calling to him, brazen and gesturing with their bottles that he come to them. He bumped the auto onwards until they were ten or so metres away. Then he left the engine running and stepped slowly outside. They were perhaps six or seven in number, smoking and drinking. They had orange sashes around their waists and they’d dressed the buffalo in big, floppy, orange bow-ties which made the whole midnight seem grotesquely comic. One of the men slid down from the jeep and walked with large expansive steps out from under the trees and into the moonlight. A small stereo looped with some string around his wrist crackled jazzily. A Bollywood song. He asked Tochi where he thought he was going. 

“Doing my job. Getting our people away from those dirty fuckers.” The man nodded and said that was very good. Then he jutted his chin at one of the other men who now walked past Tochi and went towards the auto. 

In the mirror he could see his sister and mother with foreheads pressed together, praying

“So what’s your name?” “Tarlochan.” The man waited. “Kapoor.” The man at the auto called out, “Arré, she’s having a baby.” “What’s his licence card say?” the man with the stereo said, still looking at Tochi.

But he said he couldn’t find it. “It’s not here.” “Don’t move,” he said to Tochi and went to the auto. Tochi followed behind anyway. 

The man leaned in with his forearms on the roof, the stereo dangling its song. “Is this your husband, sister?” Palvinder just continued crying into her mother’s neck. “Are you going to the hospital?” She nodded. 

“Let us go,” Tochi’s father said. 

The man nodded, then walked round to Dalbir. “What’s your name, chotu?” 

“Dalbir Saxena,” he said, without hesitation. The man sighed and said, “I better let you go, then.” He gave Dalbir the stereo, a gift for being brave, then with that long careful walk of his went back towards the others. 

Tochi waited, then slowly climbed back inside the auto. He spoke quietly, clearly. “When we get around that bend, I want you all to get out and run into the trees.” Dalbir nodded. In the mirror he could see his sister and mother with foreheads pressed together, praying. 

“Arré, aaja,” the man called. “She’s having a baby!” Tochi clicked the auto into gear and edged forward. As they passed the motorbikes and orange-bow-tied buffalo, the man salaamed and wished them well. Tochi tracked them all in the mirror, getting smaller, until he rounded the wooded curve and they blank slid out of view. He slowed, but didn’t stop. “Get out.” 

He felt their knees all over him and could hear something being unscrewed and then the thick glug and plash of petrol being poured onto his back

Dalbir vaulted out, then ran round and dragged his sister away from their mother. He tried to pull his mother out too, but she said she couldn’t leave their father behind. He simply refused to run any longer.

Tochi looked left and saw his brother tunnelling into the night, leading his sister by the hand. He applied his foot to the pedal and pressed, and the harder he pressed the more the auto juddered over the rocks. Already he could see their headlights in his mirror. Star-shaped bulbs easily closing in. He thought it was the jeep, but then the headlights split off into motorbikes and came up on either side of him. They started dousing the auto with petrol, inside and out. His mother screamed and shouted at them to in God’s name stop this. Tochi swerved towards one of the bikes, but the rider just dodged out of the way. A match was lit and thrown and there was a sudden bright flare of flame and noise. Tochi stopped and ran to pull his parents out, only for several arms to wrap themselves around his waist, his neck and legs, and haul him back. They held him down, his cheek pressed hard into the road. He felt their knees all over him and could hear something being unscrewed and then the thick glug and plash of petrol being poured onto his back. He fought to breathe, arching his neck up as if he was sucking up the pale moonlight. In front of him the crops flickered in fiery shadows and all around he could hear the blister and the pop and the screams of those within. 

Throughout November we will be publishing an anthology of short stories from our favourite authors to celebrate #NaNoWriMo. Follow them all at http://www.dazeddigital.com/nanowrimo and share your stories with us by tweeting @DazedMagazine with the hashtag #NaNoWriMo.