Page 18 - Train to Pakistan

The goods train engine whistled twice and with a lot of groaning and creaking
began to puff its way towards the bridge. The storks flew up from the pond with
shrill cries of ‘kraak, kraak’ and came towards the river. From the river they flew
back to the pond, calling alternately long after the train had gone over the bridge

and its puff-puffs had died into silence.
Juggut Singh’s caresses became lustful. His hand strayed from the girl’s face

to her breasts and her waist. She caught it and put it back on her face. His
breathing became slow and sensuous. His hand wandered again and brushed
against her breasts as if by mistake. The girl slapped it and put it away. Juggut
Singh stretched his left arm that lay under the girl’s head and caught her

reproving hand. Her other arm was already under him. She was defenceless.
‘No! No! No! Let go my hand! No! I will never speak to you again.’ She

shook her head violently from side to side, trying to avoid his hungry mouth.
Juggut Singh slipped his hand inside her shirt and felt the contours of her
unguarded breasts. They became taut. The nipples became hard and leathery. His

rough hands gently moved up and down from her breasts to her navel. The skin
on her belly came up in goose flesh.
The girl continued to wriggle and protest.

‘No! No! No! Please. May Allah’s curse fall on you. Let go my hand. I will
never meet you again if you behave like this.’
Juggut Singh’s searching hand found one end of the cord of her trousers. He

pulled it with a jerk.
‘No,’ cried the girl hoarsely.
A shot rang through the night. The storks flew up from the pond calling to

each other. Crows started cawing in the keekar trees. Juggut Singh paused and
looked up into the darkness towards the village. The girl quietly extricated
herself from his hold and adjusted her dress. The crows settled back on the trees.

The storks flew away across the river. Only the dogs barked.
‘It sounded like a gunshot,’ she said nervously, trying to keep Juggut Singh
from renewing his love-making. ‘Wasn’t it from the village?’

‘I don’t know. Why are you trying to run away? It is all quiet now.’ Juggut
Singh pulled her down beside him.
‘This is no time for jesting. There is murder in the village. My father will get

up and want to know where I have gone. I must get back at once.’
‘No, you will not. I won’t let you. You can say you were with a girl friend.’