Page 123 - Train to Pakistan

eyes signifying, ‘We have heard that before.’ Then another man came with the
same message, ‘The river has risen’; then another, and another, till everyone was

saying, ‘Do you know, the river has risen!’
At last the lambardar went out to see for himself. Yes, the river had risen. Two

days of rain could not have caused it; it must have poured in the mountains after
the melting of the snows. Sluice gates of canals had probably been closed to
prevent the flood from bursting their banks; so there was no outlet except the
river. The friendly sluggish stream of grey had become a menacing and

tumultuous spread of muddy brown. The piers of the bridge were all that
remained solid and contemptuously defiant of the river. Their pointed edges

clove through the sheet of water and let it vent its impotent rage in a swirl of
eddies and whirlpools. Rain beat upon the surface, pockmarking it all over. The
Sutlej was a terrifying sight.
By evening, Mano Majra had forgotten about its Muslims and Malli’s

misdeeds. The river had become the main topic of conversation. Once more
women stood on the rooftops looking to the west. Men started going in turns to

the embankment to report on the situation.
Before sunset the lambardar went up again to see the river. It had risen more
since his visit in the afternoon. Some of the clusters of pampas which had been

above the water level were now partly submerged. Their stalks had gone limp
and their sodden snow-white plumes floated on the water. He had never known
the Sutlej to rise so high in so short a time. Mano Majra was still a long way off

and the mud dam looked solid and safe. Nevertheless he arranged for a watch to
be kept all through the night. Four parties of three men each were to take turns
and be on the embankment from sunset to sunrise and report every hour. The rest

were to stay in their houses.
The lambardar’s decision was a quilt under which the village slept snug and
safe. The lambardar himself had little sleep. Soon after midnight the three men

on watch came back talking loudly, in a high state of excitement. They could not
tell in the grey muffled moonlight whether the river had risen more, but they had
heard human voices calling for help. The cries came from over the water. They

may have been from the other side or from the river itself. The lambardar went
out with them. He took his chromium-plated flashlight.
The four men stood on the embankment and surveyed the Sutlej, which

looked like a sheet of black. The white beam of the lambardar’s torch scanned
the surface of the river. They could see nothing but the swirling water. They held