Our Mindset Episode 55
I asked again, just to be sure—“Who is it?” A voice from outside responded, “Open the door, I’ll tell you.” That’s when I realized it wasn’t my husband’s voice. Fear began to creep in. Who could it be outside, and why would they come this late at night? I thought, whoever it is, I’m not opening the door.
Then the banging on the door grew louder.
The kids woke up. I went near the door and shouted, “What do you want? Stop knocking! I’m not opening the door! Leave now, or I’ll scream louder!”
Then I heard another voice say, “Let’s go before her husband shows up.” Another one replied, “Oh please, he’s busy watching something on his phone. He can’t hear her from this far. You two, push hard—the latch is almost giving way.”
Until then, I thought there was only one person outside. But now I could clearly hear three or four different voices. That’s when I really started panicking.
Why were there so many people? My whole body began trembling. I feared they’d break down the door. I ran and shoved a ladle through the latch to block it. That way, they wouldn’t be able to open it from outside. Then I started screaming loudly.
The kids were terrified and began crying. Even the dog in our shed started barking. Eventually, the banging stopped. One of them said, “Lock both doors from the outside and let’s go.”
There was so much noise, but nobody from the nearby homes came to check. There was no way my voice could reach my husband—he was probably lying somewhere, watching some obscene video, lost in it. For him, the audio of those videos mattered more.
I cried so much that night, holding my children close. So many questions raced through my mind—who were they? Thieves? What if they had broken in? Even if they hadn’t locked us from outside, I wouldn’t have stepped out all night. My husband usually comes home around 4 or 5 in the morning.
Once the kids fell asleep, I lay there deep in thought. But how could I sleep?
Around dawn, I heard devotional songs playing. It was his habit—he would always play religious songs, especially ones praising Goddess Ambabai, on his way back home. That’s how I knew it was him.
I stood near the door and shouted, “Aparna’s dad, open the door!” The kids woke up again. He unlocked the latch and asked, “Who locked it from outside?”
The kids and I broke down crying. I told him everything that had happened in the night. He said, “Must have been thieves.” He called Mangu and said, “Come to the farm—thieves tried breaking in last night. They even locked both doors from the outside before leaving.”
Mami took the phone from Mangu, but instead of asking about us, she asked, “They didn’t steal anything, right? The cow, the calf, the goats—are they all safe?”
My husband was walking around, inspecting the place as he talked. She told him, “Finish your chores, we’ll come to the farm in a bit. We’ll talk then.”