Page 120 - Train to Pakistan

There was complete confusion. People ran hither and thither shouting at the
tops of their voices. Despite the Muslim officer’s tone of finality, villagers

clamoured around him protesting and full of suggestions. He came up to his Sikh
colleague surrounded by his bewildered co-religionists.
‘Can you make arrangements for taking over what is left behind?’

Before the Sikh could answer, a babel of protests burst from all sides. The
Sikh remained tight-lipped and aloof.
The Muslim officer turned around sharply. ‘Shut up!’ he yelled.

The murmuring died down. He spoke again, punctuating each word with a
stab of his forefinger.
‘I give you five minutes to get into the trucks with just as much luggage as

you can carry in your hands. Those who are not in will be left behind. And this is
the last time I will say it.’
‘It is all settled,’ said the Sikh officer, speaking softly in Punjabi. ‘I have

arranged that these people from the next village will look after the cattle, carts,
and houses till it is over. I will have a list made and sent over to you.’

His colleague did not reply. He had a sardonic smile on his face. Mano Majra
Sikhs and Muslims looked on helplessly.
There was no time to make arrangements. There was no time even to say
goodbye. Truck engines were started. Pathan soldiers rounded up the Muslims,

drove them back to the carts for a brief minute or two, and then onto the trucks.
In the confusion of rain, mud and soldiers herding the peasants about with the

muzzles of their sten guns sticking in their backs, the villagers saw little of each
other. All they could do was to shout their last farewells from the trucks. The
Muslim officer drove his jeep round the convoy to see that all was in order and
then came to say goodbye to his Sikh colleague. The two shook hands

mechanically, without a smile or a trace of emotion. The jeep took its place in
front of the line of trucks. The microphone blared forth once more to announce

that they were ready to move. The officer shouted ‘Pakistan!’ His soldiers
answered in a chorus ‘Forever!’ The convoy slushed its way towards
Chundunnugger. The Sikhs watched them till they were out of sight. They wiped

the tears off their faces and turned back to their homes with heavy hearts.
Mano Majra’s cup of sorrow was not yet full. The Sikh officer summoned the
lambardar. All the villagers came with him—no one wanted to be left alone.

Sikh soldiers threw a cordon round them. The officer told the villagers that he
had decided to appoint Malli custodian of the evacuated Muslims’ property.