Page 54 - Train to Pakistan

trunks and tin cans. The haystack was pulled down and the hay scattered in the
yard. The spear was found without difficulty.

‘I suppose this has been put here by your uncle?’ said the head constable
addressing the mother sourly. ‘Wrap the blade in a piece of cloth, it may have
blood stains on it.’

‘There is nothing on it,’ cried the mother, ‘nothing. He keeps it to kill wild
pigs that come to destroy the crops. I swear he is innocent.’
‘We will see. We will see,’ the head constable dismissed her. ‘You better get

proof of his innocence ready for the magistrate.’
The old woman stopped moaning. She did have proof—the packet of broken
bangles. She had not told Jugga about it. If she had, he would certainly have

gone mad at the insult and been violent to someone. Now he was in fetters and
handcuffs, he could only lose his temper.
‘Wait, brother policemen. I have the evidence.’

The policemen watched the woman go in and bring out a packet from the
bottom of her steel trunk. She unwrapped the brown paper. There were broken

pieces of blue and red glass bangles with tiny gold spots. Two of them were
intact. The head constable took them.
‘What sort of proofs are these?’
‘The dacoits threw them in the courtyard after the murder. They wanted to

insult Jugga for not coming with them. Look!’ She held out her hands. ‘I am too
old to wear glass bangles and they are too small for my wrists.’

‘Then Jugga must know who the dacoits were. What did they say when they
threw them?’ asked the head constable.
‘Nothing, they said nothing. They abused Jugga …’
‘Can’t you keep your mouth shut?’ interrupted Jugga angrily. ‘I do not know

who the dacoits were. All I know is that I was not with them.’
‘Who leaves you bangles?’ asked the head constable. He smiled and held up

the bits of glass in his hands.
Jugga lost his temper. He raised his manacled fists and brought them heavily
down on the head constable’s palms. ‘What seducer of his mother can throw

bangles at me? What …’
The constables closed round Juggut Singh and started slapping him and
kicking him with their thick boots. Jugga sat down on his haunches, covering his

head with his arms. His mother began to beat her forehead and started crying
again. She broke into the cordon of policemen and threw herself on her son.