Page 146 - Train to Pakistan

Muslims of Chundunnugger and Mano Majra to Pakistan. Your pillow is also
full of air.’
‘Yes. Who are they? Not the villagers?’

‘I do not know all of them. Some people in uniforms came in military cars.
They had pistols and guns. The refugees have joined them. So have Malli
badmash and his gang—and some villagers. Wouldn’t this burst if a heavy

person slept on it?’ asked Meet Singh, tapping the mattress.
‘I see,’ said Iqbal, ignoring Meet Singh’s question. ‘I see the trick now. That
is why the police released Malli. Now I suppose Jugga will join them, too. It is

all arranged.’ He stretched himself on the mattress and tucked the pillow under
his armpit. ‘Bhaiji, can’t you stop it? They all listen to you.’
Meet Singh patted and smoothed the air mattress and sat down on the floor.

‘Who listens to an old bhai? These are bad times, Iqbal Singhji, very bad
times. There is no faith or religion. All one can do is to crouch in a safe corner
till the storm blows over. This would not do for a newly married couple,’ he

added, slapping the mattress affectionately.
Iqbal was agitated. ‘You cannot let this sort of thing happen! Can’t you tell
them that the people on the train are the very same people they were addressing

as uncles, aunts, brothers and sisters?’
Meet Singh sighed. He wiped a tear with the scarf on his shoulder.
‘What difference will my telling them make? They know what they are doing.

They will kill. If it is a success, they will come to the gurdwara for thanksgiving.
They will also make offerings to wash away their sins. Iqbal Singhji, tell me

about yourself. Have you been well? Did they treat you properly at the police
station?’
‘Yes, yes, I was all right,’ snapped Iqbal impatiently. ‘Why don’t you do
something? You must!’

‘I have done all I could. My duty is to tell people what is right and what is not.
If they insist on doing evil, I ask God to forgive them. I can only pray; the rest is

for the police and the magistrate. And for you.’
‘Me? Why me?’ asked Iqbal with a startled innocence. ‘What have I to do
with it? I do not know these people. Why should they listen to a stranger?’
‘When you came you were going to speak to them about something. Why

don’t you tell them now?’
Iqbal felt concerned. ‘Bhaiji, when people go about with guns and spears you