Page 152 - Train to Pakistan

‘Do not disturb him,’ interrupted Meet Singh in a whisper. ‘He is not feeling

well. He has been taking medicine to sleep.’
‘Achha, Bhaiji, you say Sat Sri Akal to him for me.’ Juggut Singh went out of
the gurdwara.

‘No fool like an old fool.’ The sentence kept recurring in Hukum Chand’s mind.
He tried to dismiss it, but it came back again and again: ‘No fool like an old
fool.’ It was bad enough for a married man in his fifties to go picking up women.

To get emotionally involved with a girl young enough to be his daughter and a
Muslim prostitute at that! That was too ludicrous. He must be losing his grip on
things. He was getting senile and stupid.

The feeling of elation which his plan had given him in the morning was gone.
Instead there was one of anxiety, uncertainty and old age. He had released the
badmash and the social worker without knowing much about them. They

probably had no more nerve than he. Some of the leftist social workers were
known to be a daring lot. This one, however, was an intellectual, the sort people
contemptuously describe as the armchair variety. He would probably do nothing

except criticize others for failing to do their duty. The badmash was a notorious
daredevil. He had been in train robberies, car hold-ups, dacoities and murders. It
was money he was after, or revenge. The only chance of his doing anything was

to settle scores with Malli. If Malli had fled when he heard of Jugga’s arrival,
Jugga would lose interest and might even join the gang in killing and looting the
victims of the ambush. His type never risked their necks for women. If Nooran

was killed, he would pick up another girl.
Hukum Chand was also uneasy about his own role. Was it enough to get
others to do the work for him? Magistrates were responsible for maintenance of

law and order. But they maintained order with power behind them; not opposing
them. Where was the power? What were the people in Delhi doing? Making fine
speeches in the assembly! Loudspeakers magnifying their egos; lovely-looking

foreign women in the visitors’ galleries in breathless admiration. ‘He is a great
man, this Mr Nehru of yours. I do think he is the greatest man in the world
today. And how handsome! Wasn’t that a wonderful thing to say? “Long ago we

made a tryst with destiny and now the time comes when we shall redeem our
pledge, not wholly or in full measure but very substantially.”’ Yes, Mr Prime
Minister, you made your tryst. So did many others.