The next morning, as the sun slowly rose, the entire household was already awake.
It was New Year's Day, and everyone was preparing to visit the farmland left behind by Diya's grandfather. A special puja was to be performed there to mark the beginning of the new year.
People moved around the house getting ready, finishing breakfast, and preparing the items needed for the ceremony.
Diya's uncle, however, seemed to be in a noticeably strange mood.
Finally, the time arrived to leave for the farm. Everyone gathered in the courtyard, waiting for Diya's uncle to come out.
Even little Sumendu, still too young to understand what was happening, was fully dressed for the occasion. He stood proudly holding the ceremonial items for the puja, excited to be part of the festivities.
Just as everyone was ready to leave, Diya's uncle suddenly stepped out of the house.
In his hand was a bundle of documents.
Without warning, he walked forward in anger and flung the papers at Diya's father's feet.
Pointing toward their mother, he shouted,
"If the puja is going to happen today, then he must sign these papers first! Otherwise, I am not stepping out of this house."
The courtyard fell silent.
Diya's father slowly bent down, picked up the documents, and began reading them carefully—word by word.
As he reached the end, his expression hardened.
He was stunned by what was written.
In a sudden burst of anger, he tore the papers into two and threw them back toward his brother.
Looking directly at their mother, he said firmly,
"I will never sign these papers in my lifetime—no matter what happens."
Those words pushed the younger brother over the edge.
Blinded by rage, he grabbed an axe that was lying in the courtyard and rushed toward his elder brother.
Before anything tragic could happen, their mother quickly stepped between them, shouting loudly and scolding both sons.
What should have been a joyful New Year moment for the family had now turned into complete chaos. Angry voices filled the courtyard as accusations and harsh words were hurled in every direction.
Unable to bear the scene unfolding before her, Diya's grandmother slowly sat down, holding her head in both hands.
The younger brother stormed back into the house in fury.
Diya's father, deeply hurt and angry, gathered his family and walked out of the house and the village.
As they walked away down the lane, both Diya's parents noticed something chilling.
Standing quietly just outside the street was the same village sarpanch they had seen the previous day.
He was accompanied by a couple of rough-looking men.
The three of them stood there silently, watching the entire drama that had just unfolded—almost as if they had been expecting it.