No. The detainees knew that they didn’t. Their future had been fixed somewhere else. The detainees created a commotion by asking questions. The wailing and crying began. A large group of armed guards came and stood behind the officers. Gradually the commotion subsided.

The officer started reading out the names. The detainees were divided into two groups. The inside of the jail became heavy with the crying of the people whose homes had been broken.

Standing in line and wiping their tears, the people who were left behind returned to the prison. The others left the jail weeping. They boarded the buses waiting outside. Following the officers in their jeeps, they sped on, not knowing their new destination.

Nowgong town had become desolate.

It had been several hours since the train had stopped at Chaparmukh station. The internees were sitting restlessly inside the closed compartments.

They had not been given any food after the meal in Dibrugarh jail. The small children were now asking their mothers for food. Those who were too small to understand had started crying. The father of the differently abled boy was cooking barley on a stove. Smelling the barley, the children had started cajoling their mothers.

‘Alen is ill. Let him eat. Don’t disturb him. You will get food. You will get rice. Forget about the barley.’

‘I am sorry, children. My son is ill, and there is just this little bit of barley,’ Alen’s father said sadly.

‘We are not hungry, apak,’ Yiu Yi said. Then she turned to the others. ‘We are not hungry. Are we?’

‘No, we are not.’ They shook their heads. Only little Ho Yin said, ‘I am hungry but I won’t have barley. Give the barley to Alen, apak. My parents will bring food. I will eat then.’

Cha Mu brought the boy closer to her and covering her face with her hands, wept. Everyone was quiet, including the hungry children. Alen, however, was busy making funny, meaningless sounds, and playing with himself.

The wait to reach a destination, any destination, was becoming unbearable.

After some more hours, they heard the voices of many people outside and loud knocking on the doors and windows.

‘Open the doors. Open the windows. Quick. Quick.’

Khagen Baishya opened the door. The others quickly opened the windows.

The station was packed with detainees. Some carried bundles, others were empty-handed. Each face was etched with the same fear, the same pain and distress. The hostel boys who had still not found their parents became restless. Standing before the windows and trying hard to look outside, they started crying.

‘Manchung Tham, Makum Chinese School Hostel, Manchung Tham,’ someone shouted outside.

‘Hey Manchung, they have called your name.’

‘Manchung Tham is here.’

Manchung’s father came running to the window.

‘Father,’ Manchung cried out.

‘Come out,’ one of the guards outside shouted. Khagen Baishya came forward.

‘Come, let me help you get down.’

Cha Mu hugged the boy and stroked his hair.