Page 60 - Train to Pakistan
P. 60

Iqbal and his escort stood apart from Juggut Singh’s crowd. The young man had

               a look of injured dignity. The subinspector thought it best not to speak to him.
                  ‘Search this man’s clothes. Take him inside one of the quarters and strip him.
               I will examine them myself.’

                  Iqbal’s planned speech remained undelivered. The constable almost dragged
               him by the handcuffs into a room. His resistance had gone. He took off his shirt
               and handed it to the policeman. The subinspector came in and without bothering

               to examine the shirt ordered:
                  ‘Take off your pyjamas!’

                  Iqbal felt humiliated. There was no fight left in him. ‘There are no pockets to
               the pyjamas. I cannot hide anything in them.’
                  ‘Take them off and do not argue.’ The subinspector slapped his khaki trousers
               with his swagger stick to emphasize the order.

                  Iqbal loosened the knot in the cord. The pyjamas fell in a heap around his
               ankles. He was naked save for the handcuffs on his wrists. He stepped out of the

               pyjamas to let the policemen examine them.
                  ‘No, that is not necessary,’ broke in the subinspector. ‘I have seen all I wanted
               to see. You can put on your clothes. You say you are a social worker. What was
               your business in Mano Majra?’

                  ‘I was sent by my party,’ answered Iqbal, re-tying the knot in the cord of his
               pyjamas.

                  ‘What party?’
                  ‘People’s Party of India.’
                  The subinspector looked at Iqbal with a sinister smile. ‘The People’s Party of
               India,’ he repeated slowly, pronouncing each word distinctly. ‘You are sure it

               was not the Muslim League?’
                  Iqbal did not catch the significance of the question.

                  ‘No, why should I be a member of the Muslim League? I …’
                  The subinspector walked out of the room before Iqbal had finished his
               sentence. He ordered the constables to take the prisoners to the police station. He

               went back to the rest house to report his discovery to the magistrate. There was
               an obsequious smile on his face.
                  ‘Cherisher of the poor, it is all right. He says he has been sent by the People’s

               Party. But I am sure he is a Muslim Leaguer. They are much the same. We
               would have had to arrest him in any case if he was up to mischief so near the
               border. We can charge him with something or other later.’
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