Page 143 - Train to Pakistan

out of the house. He took it out on his skinny brown horse, whipping and

swearing continuously. The others were absorbed in their own thoughts.
The countryside also was still. There were large expanses of water which
made it look flatter than usual. There were no men or women in the fields. Not

even cattle grazing. The two villages they passed seemed deserted except for the
dogs. Once or twice they caught a fleeting glimpse of someone stepping behind a
wall or peering round a corner—and that someone carried a gun or a spear.

Iqbal realized that it was the company of Jugga and the constable, who were
known Sikhs, that really saved him from being stopped and questioned. He
wished he could get out of this place where he had to prove his Sikhism to save

his life. He would pick up his things from Mano Majra and catch the first train.
Perhaps there were no trains. And if there were, could he risk getting onto one?
He cursed his luck for having a name like Iqbal, and then for being a … Where

on earth except in India would a man’s life depend on whether or not his
foreskin had been removed? It would be laughable if it were not tragic. He
would have to stay in Mano Majra for several days and stay close to Meet Singh

for protection—Meet Singh with his unkempt appearance and two trips a day to
the fields to defecate. The thought was revolting. If only he could get out to
Delhi and to civilization! He would report on his arrest; the party paper would

frontpage the news with his photograph: ANGLO-AMERICAN CAPITALIST
CONSPIRACY TO CREATE CHAOS (lovely alliteration). COMRADE IQBAL
IMPRISONED ON BORDER. It would all go to make him a hero.

Jugga’s immediate concern was the fate of Nooran. He did not look at his
companions in the tonga or at the village. He had forgotten about Malli. At the

back of his mind persisted a feeling that Nooran would be in Mano Majra. No
one could have wanted Imam Baksh to go. Even if he had left with the other
Muslims Nooran would be hiding somewhere in the fields, or would have come
to his mother. He hoped his mother had not turned her out. If she had, he would

let her have it. He would walk out and never come back. She would spend the
rest of her days regretting having done it.

Jugga was lost in his thoughts, concerned and angry alternately, when the
tonga slowed down to pass through the lane to the Sikh temple. He jumped off
the moving vehicle and disappeared into the darkness without a word of
farewell.

Iqbal stepped off the tonga and stretched his limbs. The driver and the