Liang was digging. His face looked grave. His otherwise simple mind, which did not dwell on complicated matters, was now occupied by many different issues. He had never imagined that a day would come when his identity would be in question, that people would look at him with mistrust and suspicion. All of a sudden, many of the things which he believed to be true had become untrue. All those people whom he considered his own had become strangers. He had discovered that he was an outsider. When he saw people looking at him and making harsh comments, misery clouded his mind. But when he met Pulok and his other friends, he felt as though nothing had changed.

Addison had noticed Liang’s sadness.

‘Hey John, come over here!’

Putting the shovel aside, Liang went over.

‘China has attacked India, that is why you feel bad, right, little John?’

Liang lowered his head. He did not answer.

‘Listen, our prime minister Harold Macmillan has condemned the Chinese aggression. The British are with India. America is with India, too. Kennedy said, “The entire world is with India.” But India’s enemy Pakistan is not with India. Russia is also not with India. Although the British have left India, we are still friends. We have business relations. If China attacks India, we will not spare China. Right, little John?’

Liang was quiet. Noting his distress, Addison continued, ‘India is now your country. It’s my country too. We will fight together. Go and call everyone. We will teach you how to use rifles.’

Addison stood up. There was work to be done, there were men to be trained.

Far away from the club, Robin was walking along the treacherous route between Hayuliang and Walong in the Lohit Frontier Division. Along with him were a few soldiers of the Assam Rifles, the base superintendent of Hayuliang, B. N. Chowdhury, and his assistant, Biren. They were carrying ammunition on requisition from the higher authority of the army. In spite of the extreme cold, the men were sweating profusely. The wind dried it quickly though, leaving a thin layer of salt on their muscular bodies. Chowdhury’s backpack was filled with bullets, while Biren carried his provisions. Robin and the others carried bullets and grenades along with their backpacks.

In the neighbouring areas of Walong, a fierce battle was in progress. The Chinese troops attacked the Indian post in the Kibithu-Walong tract, crossing the rapids in rubber boats. The Gorkha soldiers were trying to resist the Chinese troops with all their strength. Their ammunition was slowly diminishing. The bunkers were being destroyed one after the other. Despite repeatedly requesting reinforcements, no support was forthcoming. In the face of the vast Chinese army, equipped with modern armaments, the small number of Gorkha soldiers became helpless. Slowly, the sound of their war cry was dying down.