Fallen idols are a chilling sight. Be it man or deity, the vulnerability of the revered is never an easy bullet to bite. We drove down a lush avenue with nurseries ablaze with spring blooms and sluggish camels chomping lazily under old neem trees, to arrive at the non-descript gate of the Kali Mata Mandir in Hyderabad.

An old peepal tree and a saffron temple flag ushered us into a long, tight alleyway, where the first stop is the assailed sanctum of Hanuman, some 400ft away from Kali. It is a lime green, grilled room that freezes one’s spine upon entrance — a god sits scarred and broken in his pink-tiled niche; his limbs have been crushed and he is propped up with bricks.

“Can you imagine our grief? Hanuman was on the floor and smashed. We put him together and cleaned up his blackened home,” says a moist-eyed Krishan Kumar who resides opposite the desecrated holy enclosure.

The passage, lined with tiny homes and shops, wears an indolent air. Through one of the jute curtains, I spot a young man, Vallu, cutting cloth amid large piles of khaddar. When I peer in to ask about the incident, he is both startled and hesitant.

“We were asleep as we work late to supply shalwar kameez to shops. The main gate opens at 5:30am when the morning aarti begins and that day, I woke up to screams and tears. It was painful,” he says.

The narrow path opens into a colony of some 14,000 square yards with 500 homes of Meghwar Hindus, a small school, stalls of temple-ware and ration shops. A shaded central compound serves as an old world community centre, marked by a cone-shaped Shiva chamber facing the prime Kali shrine, and a three-foot domed Ganesh alcove rests in the centre beneath a saffron flag; it encircles the inner sanctum of the goddess.

Children, who have just streamed out of schools, throng to colourful gola ganda carts alongside large cauldrons of vegetable rice. Old women in lehngas and kurtis stand at stalls decorated with rose garlands and the younger ones scramble around with veiled faces in chunri saris.

Incidentally, it is Hanuman’s day of Saturday so the complex is abuzz with preparations for a special dusk ritual for the now impaired god. Better known as the Kali Mata Colony, this settlement of some 400 years has never known upheaval, other than a ferocious attack after the Babri mosque demolition in India. Today, the grief is searing.

“It was at 6:30am when a car arrived with four youths; one stayed in the car and three came in with incense sticks and prasad and went into Hanuman’s chamber. They pretended to perform puja and then came out with their faces covered. One boy hacked the statue and the other two started sprinkling petrol and then set the place alight,” narrates Kumar.

He also says that the arsonists bolted as inhabitants began to scream and pour out of their brick homes. “We chased them but they got into the car and pointed guns at us, which stopped us in our tracks.”

Mithu Maharaj, who has served at the temple for 22 years, is certain it was not a communal incident. “They were boys who belong to families that have fled terrorist-infested regions. It is their ambition to create unrest in Sindh,” he says. “We demand heightened security because these IDPs are out to force us out and usurp our lands. But this is our home and they won’t succeed.”

Meanwhile, Hema, who runs a ration cart and has spent 40 years here, presents a more politicised view: “There were dharnas at Fateh Chowk, Liaquat Colony, Cantonment, Bombay Bakery and army areas, which were attended by political representatives. They made many promises but weeks have gone by and no one has returned to fulfil them, except for our own representatives.”

The sacred locality boasts an intriguing history that is visible as one enters Kali’s large shrine; in the centre stands a 10-foot Kali in blue fibreglass. To her left is an anteroom with a protruding mountain rock wall that opens into a small cavern. These are mementoes of an ancient past alive with lore.

It is the foothills of Ganjo Takkar hills, brought to the fore by Shah Abdul Latif Bhitai. Professor Allana, former head of the University of Jamshoro, has penned many chronicles that point to both Bhitai’s verses and the ancient paths taken by ascetics in these hills to reach sacred caves.

Mithu Maharaj supports these fables. “In this cave, Bhitai went into a 41-day seclusion before he made his way to Hinglaj,” says the long-haired priest.

In the land of Bhitai, defiling a temple is a faithless act. A nation that honours God must protect all that is held sacred.