Page 13 - Train to Pakistan
P. 13

‘Jugga?’ the leader said.
                  The others laughed. One of them suddenly sat erect.
                  ‘Listen!’ he said. ‘There is the goods train.’
                  The others stopped laughing. They all listened in silence to the approaching

               train. It came to a halt with a rumble, and the wagons groaned and creaked. After
               a time, the engine could be heard moving up and down, releasing wagons. There

               were loud explosions as the released wagons collided with the ones on the
               sidings. The engine chuffed back to the train.
                  ‘It is time to call on Ram Lal,’ the leader said, and got to his feet.
                  His companions rose and brushed the sand off their clothes. They formed a

               line with their hands joined in prayer. One of the gunmen stepped in front and
               began to mumble. When he stopped, they all went down on their knees and

               rubbed their foreheads on the ground. Then they stood up and drew the loose
               ends of their turbans across their faces. Only their eyes were uncovered. The
               engine gave two long whistle blasts, and the train moved off towards the bridge.

                  ‘Now,’ the leader said.
                  The others followed him up the embankment and across the fields. By the
               time the train had reached the bridge, the men had skirted the pond and were

               walking up a lane that led to the centre of the village. They came to the house of
               Lala Ram Lal. The leader nodded to one of the gunmen. He stepped forward and
               began to pound on the door with the butt of his gun.

                  ‘Oi!’ he shouted. ‘Lala!’
                  There was no reply. Village dogs gathered round the visitors and began to
               bark. One of the men hit a dog with the flat side of his spear blade. Another fired

               his gun into the air. The dogs ran away whimpering and started to bark louder
               from a safer distance.
                  The men began to hammer at the door with their weapons. One struck it with

               his spear which went through to the other side.
                  ‘Open, you son of fornication, or we will kill the lot of you,’ he shouted.
                  A woman’s voice answered. ‘Who is it who calls at this hour? Lalaji has gone

               to the city.’
                  ‘Open and we will tell you who we are or we will smash the door,’ the leader
               said.

                  ‘I tell you Lalaji is not in. He has taken the keys with him. We have nothing in
               the house.’
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