The procession had reached Mok Min’s shop by now and slowed down. Someone from the middle of the procession shouted, ‘You Chinese people, go away!’

After a moment’s silence, all of them started shouting.

‘Go away, go away!’

‘We won’t tolerate China’s vandalism.’

The procession slowly moved forward. The faces of the boys at the end of the procession were blazing with anger, hatred and a manic excitement.

Suddenly, a stone flew past the people’s heads and landed on the roof of the shop. It made a tremendous sound and came hurtling down. The people assembled there looked first at the stone and then at the boys. Then the pelting started in earnest. A glass jar on the counter shattered.

Chitta and his companions went forward.

‘Hey, hey you, why are you throwing stones? Who are you trying to attack?’

The boys stared at him in disbelief and then shouted back insolently, ‘Can’t you see? The Chinese – who else?’

Chitta looked at the boys. They were not from Makum.

‘Don’t throw stones,’ Chitta yelled at them to stop. ‘They haven’t done anything.’

‘Have you come to advocate for them? Because they buy betel nut at your shop?’ they shouted back.

‘Hey you, betel-nut seller! Are you a Chinese spy too?’

‘What did you say? Let me hear that again! Who do you think you are talking to? I’ll break your jaw with one blow!’ Chitta and his companions chased the boys, seething with anger.

‘These are not the Chinese who have attacked us. They are our own people, understand? Our own people. Go join your processions. But if you harm these people, we will make mincemeat of you.’

The boys who were pelting stones didn’t know what to do. There was hardly anyone in Makum who did not know Rameswar and his friends. It wouldn’t be wise to antagonize any of the football players in Pulok Baruah’s group, the boy knew. In Makum, no one spoke disrespectfully to their elders. Someone in the procession asked the boys, ‘What are you saying? Don’t you know them? Let’s go or you’ll get into serious trouble.’

The procession had now reached the Chinese school. At Chow Chi Yong’s instructions, Cha Mu had locked the front gate even though lessons were going on in the classrooms. But the children couldn’t concentrate. They were excited by the loud slogans the procession was chanting; they wanted to go outside and have a look. Ko Fuk stood up to ask the teacher’s permission.

‘Sit down,’ the teacher said. ‘There is nothing to see, don’t go out.’

‘Why, sir?’

The teacher did not answer. The entire class looked at him expectantly.

‘I know. If we go out, they will abuse us. We are Chinese. The Chinese have attacked India. Even Ananta dada dislikes us now,’ Yiu Yi said.