It was during the riots in 1992 between Muslims and Hindus, we were a family of 5, my mother who was then 30, my aunt who was 26 then, my elder sister who was 8, my elder brother was 7 and I was 3. We were having our meal when stones were thrown on our windows. Our house had doors on both ends. Scared, we all tried escaping from the back door. The moment we opened the door, a huge man was standing there with a sword in his hand. It was very terrifying, and he almost attacked us, when a Hindu old lady stopped him saying, “leave them, she is a widow with 3 small kids”, and we ran barefoot. One of my mom’s friend (a Hindu) dressed mom in an attire that people believe she is a Hindu. Thanks to some good hearted people, we were saved by the bell. Though we lost everything we had, now gradually we earned it back.
Once I was riding on the back seat of a bike with a friend, and we took a turn to a road that was wide enough for only one car to go at a time. Suddenly a street dog started barking and running behind us. He almost reached my feet. I lifted my feet and my legs were floating in the air. My heart came to my mouth. Thank God! the front car took a turn and the road was now free for us to speed up and get rid of that mad dog. We were saved by the bell, and later had a good laugh over it.
Then on I never ever took that route again, nor do I intend to. Everrr!