Page 39 - Train to Pakistan

Meet Singh realized the interest he had created and slowly got up, repeating,
‘I should be going. All the village will be there. They will be taking the corpse
for medical examination. If a man is killed he cannot be cremated till the doctor
certifies him dead.’ The old man gave a wry smile.

‘A murder! Why, why was he murdered?’ stammered Iqbal, somewhat
bewildered. He was surprised that Meet Singh had not mentioned the murder of

a next-door neighbour all this time. ‘Was it communal? Is it all right for me to be
here? I do not suppose I can do much if the village is all excited about a murder.’
‘Why, Babu Sahib, you have come to stop killing and you are upset by one
murder?’ asked Meet Singh, smiling. ‘I thought you had come to stop such

things, Babu Sahib. But you are quite safe in Mano Majra,’ he added. ‘Dacoits
do not come to the same village more than once a year. There will be another

dacoity in another village in a few days and people will forget about this one.
We can have a meeting here one night after the evening prayer and you can tell
them all you want. You had better rest. I will come back and tell you what

happens.’
The old man hobbled out of the courtyard. Iqbal collected the empty tin, his
knife and fork and tin plate, and took them to the well to wash.

In the afternoon, Iqbal stretched himself on the coarse string charpai and tried to

get some sleep. He had spent the night sitting on his bedroll in a crowded third-
class compartment. Every time he had dozed off, the train had come to a halt at
some wayside station and the door was forced open and more peasants poured in

with their wives, bedding and tin trunks. Some child sleeping in its mother’s lap
would start howling till its wails were smothered by a breast thrust into its

mouth. The shouting and clamour would continue until long after the train had
left the station. The same thing was repeated again and again, till the
compartment meant for fifty had almost two hundred people in it, sitting on the
floor, on seats, on luggage racks, on trunks, on bedrolls, and on each other, or

standing in the corners. There were dozens outside perched precariously on
footboards, holding onto the door handles. There were several people on the

roof. The heat and smell were oppressive. Tempers were frayed and every few
minutes an argument would start because someone had spread himself out too
much or had trod on another’s foot on his way to the lavatory. The argument
would be joined on either side by friends or relatives and then by all the others