Not a single Chinese soldier had been captured by the Indian Army so far. On the other hand, the Indian Red Cross confirmed that China had captured 927 Indian prisoners of war. Brigadier Dalvi was among them. The Chinese Red Cross had assured India that all the prisoners were fine. Most of the people from outside Assam had already sent their families away and were themselves in a state of preparedness. Helicopters had started taking off from the small helipads of various tea gardens, carrying the high officials. The window panes of the houses had been covered with thick paper, so as not to let out light and crooked, zigzagging trenches had been dug. The civilians had been instructed about what they needed to do in case of air raids. All the European families in the neighbouring tea estates had left. So had the Indian officers. As a result, work in the tea gardens had come to a halt, and the gardens wore a deserted look. Even though work had stopped, Pulok continued to go to the garden. The officer-in-charge of the Planters’ Club had also left with his family. It was now Pulok’s responsibility to look after the club.

When Pulok reached the club, the atmosphere there was completely different. He found Addison and his fellow managers busy digging a trench in the tennis court with purpose.

They had decided that they would not let the club go to the Chinese without a fight. So after they sent their families away, they pitched their tents there. They had sourced their own arms, gathered the arms of the officers who had left, and were preparing for battle.

As soon as Addison saw Pulok, he asked him to call Liang and the other young officers at the garden. Pulok was stunned at Addison’s childish enthusiasm, but he went to call the officers anyway. They all started digging trenches and filling bags with sand to make bunkers. Slowly, Addison’s zeal infected the entire group. The war made them forget about rank and traditions, all hierarchies were wiped out.

The club’s bar was now without a bartender to keep a tab on the number of drinks Addison and his friends were downing. Cigar in mouth, a few of them were cleaning the barrels of their guns.

‘Hey John, will you have a whiskey?’ Addison asked.

‘No, sahab,’ Liang smiled hesitantly.

‘Why not? Have a drink, you’ll feel good. Come on, I’m a soldier, not a manager today.’

All the other young managers were smiling indulgently. Had it been any other time they might have been offended by Addison’s behaviour. Today was different. The war had touched them with all its madness. Many serious day-to-day matters had become unimportant in the light of self-defence.