Even as the call for Asr prayers resonated through Baghpat’s Gangnoli village on Sunday evening, a sense of solemnity filled the air. Maulana Ibrahim, his voice quivering with grief, led a small congregation of men gathered inside the mosque — a sacred space that had witnessed unspeakable tragedy a day earlier.The echoes of the previous day’s horror still lingered, as it was in this very mosque, where he had spent eight years teaching the Quran, that his wife and two young daughters met their untimely demise at the hands of two of his own students.“Meri zindagi khatam ho gayi… sab chale gaye (my life is over, my whole family is gone),” whispered Ibrahim while sitting on the cold floor, after the prayers, staring blankly.The Maulana had been in Deoband, 100 km away, to receive the Taliban’s Foreign Minister, Amir Khan Muttaqi, who was visiting India, when he received the call at 3 pm. By the time he returned, police and forensic teams were already at the mosque. Upstairs, the room — where the lifeless bodies of his wife Israna (30) and daughters Sofia (5) and Sumayya (2) lay — had been sealed with yellow crime-scene tape, with the blood on the floor still visible.On Saturday morning, Ibrahim had beaten two students, aged 13 and 14, for neglecting their lessons, both minors. Four hours later, the boys returned. Inside the Maulana’s home, they found his seven-month pregnant wife and the two daughters asleep. Using a hammer and knife taken from the mosque, they killed all three. Once the bodies were discovered, they joined the crowd outside pretending to mourn. Police cracked the case through footage from the five CCTV cameras inside the mosque’s premises. “Both have confessed,” said SP Suraj Rai, “They said Maulvi sahib often thrashed and insulted them. They had entered the Maulana’s mosque-residence and killed his family around 1pm. Using finger-print tests and CCTV footage, we cracked the case. A probe into the matter is underway and a case will be registered soon.”Ibrahim’s friend Haji Hasmukh, who came from Shamli to console him, was furious and broken: “… never has a teacher been repaid like this. This is a stain on our entire community.” The Gangnoli mosque stands half-finished — one side is decorated in designs using colourful tiles, the other bare cement. A staircase leads to the single room above where the family lived. “This courtyard was always full — children reciting, coming and going,” said a student, Farzana.Ibrahim and his wife taught around 250 children from the area — most from poor rural families, many without access to regular schools. Some attend both madrasa and school, but many others study only religious texts.Story continues below this adAt the homes of the two accused, their mothers sat on charpoys, prayer beads clutched tightly in their hands. “He had been at the madrasa for two years,” said one of the accused’s mother.“Last year Maulvi sahib said his school education was affecting his religious lessons, so we stopped sending him to school…Na duniya ka raha, na deen ka (now he’s neither of the world nor of religion),” she added. The other mother could only weep: “We never imagined this,” she mumbled. Across western UP’s villages, where madrasas often double as primary schools, the killings have reignited long-simmering worries about education, discipline and disconnection.At the village chaupal, elderly people sit on cots and chat about how the incident has shaken the entire village.“Earlier, even if a teacher beat us, parents said, gosht tumhara, haddi hamari (flesh is yours, bone is mine) — the teacher has the right,” recalled Farhat, an elderly resident,“Now, children have anger but no understanding.” Qayam, another villager, remembered, “Our Qari sahib used to hit us with sticks dipped in oil. We had bruises, but we respected him. Today’s children have neither fear nor respect — only frustration.”Intercepting his two friends, Mohammad Muneer, another elderly resident of the village said, “Times have changed, the truth of the matter is that the poor in our community need direction and our kids need education…This incident is a mirror on how directionless we still are.” As the evening wore on, police patrols continued around the mosque. Throughout all this, Ibrahim sat quietly, occasionally muttering verses under his breath.Recalling his last conversation with his wife, Ibrahim shared: “She had called to ask me to buy headscarves for her and the girls.” On his phone, he replayed the last voice notes from his daughters — giggling, asking him to bring toy guns. “One of the boys had shown them this toy run…one of the two boys who killed them,” he said, his hands shaking.Story continues below this adEven in his grief, Ibrahim thanked the administration. “Many thanks to the administration and Yogi Adityanath ji – the culprits were caught within four hours,” he said softly.As the evening Azaan rose again, the sound of Allahu Akbar echoed over the village holding its breath. With face buried in his palms, a dejected Ibrahim sat in a corner. The air is thick with incense, fighting the metallic smell of the blood, waiting to be cleaned.Outside, a few kids stood by the gate, watching the melancholic dance between the yellow tape and the breeze.