Page 50 - Train to Pakistan

occupation. One of them filled in the blank spaces on a yellow piece of printed
paper and held it in front of Iqbal’s blinking eyes.
‘Here is warrant for your arrest. Get up.’
The other slipped the ring at one end of a pair of handcuffs in his belt and

unlocked the links to put round Iqbal’s wrists. The sight of the handcuffs brought
Iqbal wide awake. He jumped out of bed and faced the policemen.

‘You have no right to arrest me like this,’ he shouted. ‘You made up the
warrant in front of me. This is not going to end here. The days of police rule are
over. If you dare put your hands on me, the world will hear about it. I will see
that the papers tell the people how you chaps do your duty.’

The policemen were taken aback. The young man’s accent, the rubber pillows
and mattress and all the other things they had seen in the room, and above all, his

aggressive attitude, made them uneasy. They felt that perhaps they had made a
mistake.
‘Babu Sahib, we are only doing our duty. You settle this with the magistrate,’

one of them answered politely. The other fumbled uneasily with the handcuffs.
‘I will settle it with the whole lot of you—police and magistrates! Come and
disturb people in sleep! You will regret this mistake.’ Iqbal waited for the

policemen to say something so that he could go on with his tirade against law
and order. But they had been subdued.
‘You will have to wait. I have to wash and change and leave my things in

somebody’s care,’ said Iqbal aggressively, giving them another chance to say
something.
‘All right, Babu Sahib. Take as long as you like.’

The policemen’s civil attitude deflated Iqbal’s anger. He collected his things
and went down the stairs to his room. He went to the well, pulled up a bucket of
water and began to wash. He was in no hurry.

Bhai Meet Singh came back vigorously brushing his teeth with the end of the
keekar twig which he had chewed into a fibrous brush. The presence of
policemen in the gurdwara did not surprise him. Whenever they came to the

village and could not find accommodation at the lambardar’s house they came to
the temple. He had been expecting them after the moneylender’s murder.
‘Sat Sri Akal,’ said Meet Singh, throwing away his keekar toothbrush.

‘Sat Sri Akal,’ replied the policemen.
‘Would you like some tea or something? Some buttermilk?’