Without looking up from her writing, Mei Hang said, ‘She will need reams – she is used to writing novels!’

Handing over two letters, Tung Chin went away.

Sitting next to Mei Lin, Ahlin was gloomily helping write letters for different people. A strong wave of emotion overcame her. The image of Ananta was floating in her mind. Her memories were bringing back the slogans.

‘Chow Mao murdabad!’

‘Chinese people go back!’

The image of Ananta spitting on the ground and walking away.

Could she write to that Ananta? Could she open her heart and show him the dark clouds within?

No.

Ananta was now someone else. He was a patriot, ready to fight for his country. And Ahlin? Who was she now? She was the kin of those who had attacked Ananta’s country. No matter what India meant to her, to Ananta she was an enemy. Untrustworthy.

Ananta and the others did not want Ahlin and others like her in their country. They were undesirable, unwanted. They wanted them to leave India.

Everyone was busy writing to those they had left behind, but Ahlin did not want pity. She wanted love. She wanted true love built on mutual respect and trust.

Ho Fuk walked past them all, talking to himself.

‘No use writing letters. We won’t get to see anyone. We won’t get anything back.’

Looking up at him for a moment, Mei Lin and the others busied themselves with writing again.

‘I am alright. I am in jail. The journey was very difficult. It looks as though things will improve now. I can’t see you. I can’t see the children. I feel so sad. Don’t worry too much. Look after the goats well. If you have problems, sell the goats. Write with all the news. When will I get to see you all again, Lakshmi – I think of you all the time …’ The man dictating the letter started weeping.

Mei Lin ended the letter with a sigh and looked at him. ‘What address shall I put down?’

‘Address!’ He looked at her in surprise. Wiping his tears on his shirt sleeves, he said, ‘Address? Write: “Lakshmi. Near Pavoi garden.”’

‘That won’t do. We will need the district, post office, and so on.’

‘I don’t know all that.’

‘My address is also like that,’ said another. ‘Write Jonaki Wong. Dafalagar garden.’

‘With these addresses, the letters won’t reach.’

‘I don’t know the full address. I’m the contractor’s man. He knows everything.’

‘Who is the contractor?’

‘They have detained him. But he is now in Nowgong jail.’

After thinking for a while, Mei Lin went to Ameng and said, ‘Help me with some addresses from your area.’