Train to Pakistan Read Free Page B

felt the contours of her unguarded breasts. They became taut. The nipples became hard and leathery. His rough hands gently moved up and down from her breasts to her navel. The skin on her belly came up in goose flesh.
    The girl continued to wriggle and protest.
    ‘No! No! No! Please. May Allah’s curse fall on you. Let go my hand. I will never meet you again if you behave like this.’
    Juggut Singh’s searching hand found one end of the cord of her trousers. He pulled it with a jerk.
    ‘No,’ cried the girl hoarsely.
    A shot rang through the night. The storks flew up from the pond calling to each other. Crows started cawing in the keekar trees. Juggut Singh paused and looked up into the darkness towards the village. The girl quietly extricated herself from his hold and adjusted her dress. The crows settled back on the trees. The storks flew away across the river. Only the dogs barked.

    ‘It sounded like a gunshot,’ she said nervously, trying to keep Juggut Singh from renewing his love-making. ‘Wasn’t it from the village?’
    ‘I don’t know. Why are you trying to run away? It is all quiet now.’ Juggut Singh pulled her down beside him.
    ‘This is no time for jesting. There is murder in the village. My father will get up and want to know where I have gone. I must get back at once.’
    ‘No, you will not. I won’t let you. You can say you were with a girl friend.’
    ‘Don’t talk like a stupid peasant. How …’ Juggut Singh shut her mouth with his. He bore upon her with his enormous weight. Before she could free her arms he ripped open the cord of her trousers once again.
    ‘Let me go. Let me …’
    She could not struggle against Juggut Singh’s brute force. She did not particularly want to. Her world was narrowed to the rhythmic sound of breathing and the warm smell of dusky skins raised to fever heat. His lips slubbered over her eyes and cheeks. His tongue sought the inside of her ears. In a state of frenzy she dug her nails into his thinly bearded cheeks and bit his nose. The stars above her went into a mad whirl and then came back to their places like a merry-go-round slowly coming to a stop. Life came back to its cooler, lower level. She felt the dead weight of the lifeless man; the sand gritting in her hair; the breeze trespassing on her naked limbs; the censorious stare of the myriads of stars. She pushed Juggut Singh away. He lay down beside her.
    ‘That is all you want. And you get it. You are just a peasant. Always wanting to sow your seed. Even if the world were going to hell you would want to do that. Even when guns are being fired in the village. Wouldn’t you?’ she nagged.
    ‘Nobody is firing any guns. Just your imagination,’ answeredJuggut Singh wearily, without looking at her.
    Faint cries of wailing wafted across to the riverside. The couple sat up to listen. Two shots rang out in quick succession. The crows flew out of the keekars, cawing furiously.
    The girl began to cry.
    ‘Something is happening in the village. My father will wake up and know I have gone out. He will kill me.’
    Juggut Singh was not listening to her. He did not know what to do. If his absence from the village was discovered, he would be in trouble with the police. That did not bother him as much as the trouble the girl would be in. She might not come again. She was saying so: ‘I will never come to see you again. If Allah forgives me this time, I will never do it again.’
    ‘Will you shut up or do I have to smack your face?’
    The girl began to sob. She found it hard to believe this was the same man who had been making love to her a moment ago.
    ‘Quiet! There is someone coming,’ whispered Juggut Singh, putting his heavy hand on her mouth.
    The couple lay still, peering into the dark. The five men carrying guns and spears passed within a few yards of them. They had uncovered their faces and were talking.
    ‘Dakoo! Do you know them?’ the girl asked in a whisper.
    ‘Yes,’ Juggut said, ‘The