Page 74 - Train to Pakistan

Banta Singh walked up to the door. The policeman took him aside and
whispered something. Then as Banta Singh turned back, he said loudly:

‘Quickly, within half an hour. There are two military trucks waiting on the
station side. I will be there.’
The policeman walked away briskly.

The villagers crowded round Banta Singh. The possession of a secret had lent
him an air of importance. His voice had a tone of authority.
‘Everyone get all the wood there is in his house and all the kerosene oil he can

spare and bring these to the motor trucks on the station side. You will be paid.’
The villagers waited for him to tell them why. He ordered them off brusquely.
‘Are you deaf? Haven’t you heard? Or do you want the police to whip your

buttocks before you move? Come along quickly.’
People dispersed into the village lanes whispering to each other. The
lambardar went to his own house.

A few minutes later, villagers with bundles of wood and bottles of oil started
assembling outside the village on the station side. Two large mud-green army
trucks were parked alongside each other. A row of empty petrol cans stood

against a mud wall. A Sikh soldier with a sten gun stood on guard. Another Sikh,
an officer with his beard neatly rolled in a hair net, sat on the back of one of the
trucks with his feet dangling. He watched the wood being stacked in the other

truck and nodded his head in reply to the villagers’ greetings. The lambardar
stood beside him, taking down the names of the villagers and the quantities they
brought. After dumping their bundles of wood on the truck and emptying bottles

of kerosene into the petrol cans, the villagers collected in a little group at a
respectful distance from the officer.
Imam Baksh put down on the truck the wood he had carried on his head and

handed his bottle of oil to the lambardar. He re-tied his turban, then greeted the
officer loudly, ‘Salaam, Sardar Sahib.’
The officer looked away.

Iman Baksh started again, ‘Everything is all right, isn’t it, Sardar Sahib?’
The officer turned around abruptly and snapped, ‘Get along. Don’t you see I

am busy?’
Imam Baksh, still adjusting his turban, meekly joined the villagers.
When both the trucks were loaded, the officer told Banta Singh to come to the
camp next morning for the money. The trucks rumbled off towards the station.