Page 105 - Train to Pakistan

assembled under the peepul tree near the temple.
The head constable unlocked the handcuffs of the prisoners in front of the

villagers. They were made to put their thumb impressions on pieces of paper and
told to report to the police station twice a week. The villagers looked on sullenly.

They knew that Jugga badmash and the stranger had nothing to do with the
dacoity. They were equally certain that in arresting Malli’s gang the police were
on the right track. Perhaps they were not all involved; some of the five might
have been arrested mistakenly. It was scarcely possible that none of them had

had anything to do with it. Yet there were the police letting them loose—not in
their own village, but in Mano Majra where they had committed the murder. The

police must be certain of their innocence to take such a risk.
The head constable took the lambardar aside and the two spoke to each other
for some time. The lambardar came back and addressed the villagers saying:
‘The Sentry Sahib wants to know if anyone here has seen or heard anything

about Sultana badmash or any of his gang.’
Several villagers came out with news. He was known to have gone away to

Pakistan along with his gang. They were all Muslims, and Muslims of their
village had been evacuated.
‘Was it before or after the murder of the Lala that he left?’ inquired the head

constable, coming up beside the lambardar.
‘After,’ they answered in a chorus. There was a long pause. The villagers
looked at each other somewhat puzzled. Was it them? Before they could ask the

policemen any questions, the head constable was speaking again.
‘Did any of you see or talk to a young Mussulman babu called Mohammed
Iqbal who was a member of the Muslim League?’

The lambardar was taken aback. He did not know Iqbal was a Muslim. He
vaguely recalled Meet Singh and Imam Baksh calling him Iqbal Singh. He
looked in the crowd for Imam Baksh but could not find him. Several villagers

started telling the head constable excitedly of having seen Iqbal go to the fields
and loiter about the railway track near the bridge.
‘Did you notice anything suspicious about him?’

‘Suspicious? Well …’
‘Did you notice anything suspicious about the fellow?’
‘Did you?’

No one was sure. One could never be sure about educated people; they were
all suspiciously cunning. Surely Meet Singh was the one to answer questions