Page 96 - Train to Pakistan

‘When you get married, you will find your wife a match for you,’ Iqbal said.
‘You will be holding your ears and saying “toba, toba”.’

‘There is no fun in marriage, Babuji. Where is the time or place for fun? In
summer, everyone sleeps out in the open and all you can do is to slip away for a

little while and get over with things before your relations miss you. In winter,
men and women sleep separately. You have to pretend to answer the call of
nature at the same time at night.’

‘You seem to know a lot about it, without being married.’
Jugga laughed. ‘I don’t keep my eyes shut. Besides, even if I am not married,
I do a married man’s work.’

‘You also answer calls of nature by arrangement?’
Jugga laughed louder. ‘Yes, Babuji, I do. That is what has brought me to this
lockup. But I say to myself: if I had not been out that night, I would not have had

the good fortune of meeting you, Babuji. I would not have the chance to learn
English from you. Teach me some git mit like “good morning”. Will you,
Babuji-sahib?’

‘What will you do with English?’ Iqbal asked. ‘The sahibs have left. You
should learn your own language.’
Jugga did not seem pleased with the suggestion. For him, education meant

knowing English. Clerks and letter writers who wrote Urdu or Gurmukhi were
literate, but not educated.
‘I can learn that from anyone. Bhai Meet Singh has promised to teach me

Gurumukhi, but I never seem to get started. Babuji, how many classes have you
read up to? You must have passed the tenth?’
Tenth was the school-leaving examination.

‘Yes, I have passed the tenth. Actually I have passed sixteen.’
‘Sixteen! Wah, wah! I have never met anyone who has done that. In our
village only Ram Lal has done four. Now he is dead, the only one who can read

anything is Meet Singh. In the neighbouring villages they haven’t even got a
bhai. Our Inspector Sahib has only read up to seven and the Deputy Sahib to ten.
Sixteen! You must have lots of brain.’

Iqbal felt embarrassed at the effusive compliments.
‘Can you read or write anything?’ he asked.
‘I? No. My uncle’s son taught me a little verse he learned at school. It is half

English and half Hindustani: