Page 94 - Train to Pakistan

‘Get away with you,’ Jugga said. ‘Babuji thinks it is you and the government
who have made me a badmash. Isn’t that so, Babuji?’
Iqbal did not answer. He put his feet in the extra chair and gazed at the pile of

papers. Jugga took Iqbal’s feet off the chair and began pressing them with his
enormous hands.
‘Babuji, my kismet has woken up at last. I will serve you if you teach me

some English. Just a few sentences so that I can do a little git mit.’
‘Who is going to occupy the next cell?’

Jugga continued pressing Iqbal’s feet and legs.
‘I don’t know,’ he answered hesitantly. ‘They tell me they have arrested Ram
Lal’s murderers.’
‘I thought they had arrested you for the murder,’ said Iqbal.

‘Me, too,’ smiled Jugga, baring his row of even white teeth studded with gold
points. ‘They always arrest me when anything goes wrong in Mano Majra. You

see, I am a badmash.’
‘Didn’t you kill Ram Lal?’
Jugga stopped pressing. He caught his ears with his hands and stuck out his
tongue. ‘Toba, toba! Kill my own village bania? Babuji, who kills a hen which

lays eggs? Besides, Ram Lal gave me money to pay lawyers when my father was
in jail. I would not act like a bastard.’

‘I suppose they will let you off now.’
‘The police are the kings of the country. They will let me off when they feel
like it. If they want to keep me in, they will trump up a case of keeping a spear

without a license or going out of the village without permission—or just
anything.’
‘But you were out of the village that night. Weren’t you?’

Jugga sat down on his haunches, took Iqbal’s feet in his lap, and started
massaging his soles.
‘I was out of the village,’ he answered with a mischievous twinkle in his eye,

‘but I was not murdering anyone. I was being murdered.’
Iqbal knew the expression. He did not want to encourage Jugga to make
further disclosure. But once the subject had been suggested, there was no

keeping Jugga back. He began to press Iqbal’s feet with greater fervour.
‘You have been in Europe many years?’ asked Jugga lowering his voice.
‘Yes, many,’ answered Iqbal, vainly trying to evade the inevitable.