Page 53 - Train to Pakistan

Constables armed with rifles were posted on neighbouring roofs and in the front
and rear of the house. Then six others armed with revolvers rushed into the
courtyard. Juggut Singh lay on his charpai, wrapped from head to foot in a dirty
white sheet and snoring lustily. He had spent two nights and a day in the jungle

without food or shelter. He had come home in the early hours of the morning
when he believed everyone in the village would be asleep. The neighbours had

been vigilant and the police were informed immediately. They waited till he had
filled himself with food and was sound asleep. His mother had gone out, bolting
the door from the outside.
Juggut Singh’s feet were put in fetters and handcuffs were fastened on his

right wrist while he slept. Policemen put their revolvers in their holsters. Men
with rifles joined them in the courtyard. They prodded Juggut Singh with the

butt ends of their guns.
‘O Jugga, get up, it is almost afternoon.’
‘See how he sleeps like a pig without a care in the world.’

Jugga sat up wearily, blinking his eyes. He gazed at the handcuffs and the
fetters with philosophic detachment, then stretched his arms wide and yawned
loudly. Sleep came on him again and he began to nod.

Juggut Singh’s mother came in and saw her courtyard full of armed
policemen. Her son sat on the charpai with his head resting on his manacled
hands. His eyes were shut. She ran up to him and clasped him by the knees. She

put her head in his lap and started to cry.
Juggut Singh woke up from his reverie. He pushed his mother back rudely.
‘Why are you crying?’ he said. ‘You know I had nothing to do with the

dacoity.’
She began to wail. ‘He did not do it. He did nothing. In the name of God, I
swear he did nothing.’

‘Then where was he on the night of the murder?’ the head constable said.
‘He was out in his fields. He was not with the dacoits. I swear he was not.’
‘He is a badmash under orders not to go out of the village after sunset. We

have to arrest him for that in any case.’ He motioned to his men. ‘Search the
rooms and the barn.’ The head constable had his doubts about Juggut Singh
partaking in a dacoity in his own village. It was most unusual.

Four constables busied themselves looking around the house, emptying steel
trunks and tin cans. The haystack was pulled down and the hay scattered in the