Page 124 - Train to Pakistan

the surface of the river. They could see nothing but the swirling water. They held
their breath and listened, but they could hear nothing except the noise of the rain

falling on the water. Each time the lambardar asked if they were sure that what
they had heard were human voices and not jackals, they felt more and more
uncertain and had to ask each other: ‘It was clear, wasn’t it, Karnaila?’

‘Oh yes. It was clear enough. “Hai, hai”—like someone in pain.’
The four men sat under a tree, huddled around a hurricane lamp. The gunny
sacks they used as raincoats were soaking wet; so were all their clothes. An hour

later there was a break in the clouds. The rain slowed down to a drizzle and then
stopped. The moon broke through the clouds just above the western horizon. Its
reflection on the river made a broad path of shimmering tinfoil running from the

opposite bank to the men under the tree. On this shining patch of moonlight even
little ripples of water could be seen distinctly.
A black oval object hit the bridge pier and was swept by the stream towards

the Mano Majra embankment. It looked like a big drum with sticks on its sides.
It moved forward, backward and sideways until the current caught it again and
brought it into the silvery path not far from where the men were sitting. It was a

dead cow with its belly bloated like a massive barrel and its legs stiffly stretched
upward. Then followed some blocks of thatch straw and bundles of clothing.

‘It looks as if some village has been swept away by the flood,’ said the
lambardar.
‘Quiet! Listen,’ said one of the villagers in a whisper. The faint sound of a
moan was wafted across the waters.

‘Did you hear?’
‘Quiet!’

They held their breath and listened.
No, it could not have been human. There was a rumbling sound. They listened
again. Of course, it was a rumble; it was a train. Its puffing became clearer and
clearer. Then they saw the outlines of the engine and the train itself. It had no

lights. There was not even a headlight on the engine. Sparks flew out of the
engine funnel like fireworks. As the train came over the bridge, cormorants flew

silently down the river and terns flew up with shrill cries. The train came to a
halt at Mano Majra station. It was from Pakistan.
‘There are no lights on the train.’

‘The engine did not whistle.’