Page 43 - Train to Pakistan

and he is an emperor. He is the government and we are his subjects. If he comes
to Mano Majra, you will see him.’
There was a pause in the conversation. Iqbal slipped his feet into his sandals
and stood up.

‘I must take a walk. Which way do you suggest I should go?’
‘Go in any direction you like. It is all the same open country. Go to the river.

You will see the trains coming and going. If you cross the railroad track you will
see the dak bungalow. Don’t be too late. These are bad times and it is best to be
indoors before dark. Besides, I have told the lambardar and Uncle Imam Baksh
—he is mullah of the mosque—that you are here. They may be coming in to talk

to you.’
‘No, I won’t be late.’

Iqbal stepped out of the gurdwara. There was no sign of activity now. The
police had apparently finished investigating. Half a dozen constables lay
sprawled on charpais under the peepul tree. The door of Ram Lal’s house was

open. Some villagers sat on the floor in the courtyard. A woman wailed in a
singsong which ended up in convulsions of crying in which other women joined.
It was hot and still. The sun blazed on the mud walls.

Iqbal walked in the shade of the wall of the gurdwara. Children had relieved
themselves all along it. Men had used it as a urinal.A mangy bitch lay on her
side with a litter of eight skinny pups yapping and tugging at her sagging udders.

The lane ended abruptly at the village pond—a small patch of muddy water
full of buffaloes with their heads sticking out.
A footpath skirted the pond and went along a dry watercourse through the

wheat fields towards the river. Iqbal went along the watercourse watching his
steps carefully. He reached the riverside just as the express from Lahore came up
on the bridge. He watched its progress through the criss-cross of steel. Like all

the trains, it was full. From the roof, legs dangled down the sides onto the doors
and windows. The doors and windows were jammed with heads and arms. There
were people on buffers between the bogies. The two on the buffers on the tail

end of the train were merrily kicking their legs and gesticulating. The train
picked up speed after crossing the bridge. The engine driver started blowing the
whistle and continued blowing till he had passed Mano Majra station. It was an

expression of relief that they were out of Pakistan and into India.
Iqbal went up the riverbank towards the bridge. He was planning to go under
it towards the dak bungalow when he noticed a Sikh soldier watching him from