‘Their phones went silent’: Families wait in agony outside Nampally blaze site

Hyderabad: Outside Batcha's Furniture Castle on Nampally Station Road, grief hung heavy in the air as families of the five people feared trapped in the devastating fire waited through the night, clinging to fading hope while rescue operations continued. Among the inconsolable was Lakshmi, a domestic worker and mother of two young boys — Praneeth (11) and Akhil (7) — who lived with their family in the cellar of the building. Sitting on the pavement, she repeatedly said she wished she had never gone to work that day. Her husband, T Yadaiah, earns a living as a salesman. "Around 12 pm, I came home and found my elder son Praneeth flying a kite on the terrace and my younger son Akhil having lunch. I asked the younger one to stay inside and watch TV and then left for work. I don't know how both of them got trapped," Lakshmi said, breaking down. She said the family was initially able to contact the children by phone after the fire broke out. "They told us they were coming out, but they didn't. After that, the phone switched off." Praneeth was a class VI student and Akhil studied in class II at a nearby private school. A few metres away, the relatives of Mohammed Imtiaz (26) and Mohammed Habeeb (40), both employees of the showroom, sat stunned, their eyes fixed on the smoke-blackened building. Imtiaz is survived by two sons, one of them a newborn. "He just became a father again, and his wife is still admitted to hospital," said Mohammed Anwar, Habeeb's younger brother. Family members of both men said they had rushed into the building in an attempt to rescue the trapped children, but were themselves overcome by the fire and smoke. "Habeeb was loading a vehicle with goods when he heard cries for help and rushed inside. I thought he would return soon, but it has been over five hours now," said his cousin, Mohammed Arif. Nearby stood the sons of Bebi (43), the watchwoman of the showroom, anxiously waiting for word from authorities. A native of Karnataka, Bebi lived in the cellar with her two sons along with Lakshmi's family. "My mother worked here five years. At the time of the incident, she was cooking inside. I called her and asked her to come out immediately. She said she was coming, but after some time her phone also switched off," said Sameer Khan, her elder son, who works as a security guard in the neighbourhood. As fire personnel battled thick smoke and intense heat inside the building, families remained outside, watching helplessly — united by fear, grief and unanswered calls that had fallen silent.