‘I want to copy from the book as much as I can. No one knows when and where we will have to go. I have bought some paper and am thinking of writing down certain things from my memory too. I will have to teach my child.’

‘You bought paper? Be careful. They may take it from you. It’s dangerous.’

‘I have informed them of the reason in writing and have taken permission. If they suspect anything, I am helpless.’

Pramila looked at Mei Lin for a second and asked slowly, ‘What will you gain by teaching her Assamese? We will never be able to return to Assam.’

‘Who knows who will go where? Did we ever think that we would be sent away like this from India?’

Mei Lin left the room.

At that time in the one-roomed houses of the barracks, those who had returned from work had freshened up and started cooking. They were provided rice, enough for just one meal a day. In the morning, they had a thick stew of rice and vegetables and ate a proper meal in the evening after work. Their faces would look bright on the days they were provided with fish or meat. Other days were grey.

Adjacent to Mei Lin’s room lived a family from Darrang, in the north bank of Assam. The lady belonged to the Sonowal Kachari community. She was a widow. Mei Lin’s heart went out to her. Her name was Ajoli Sonowal. She had three little girls. The eldest was nine years old.

Handing over her baby to the eldest girl, Mei Lin cleaned up returned to her own room. After cooking and hurriedly finishing her work, she went to get her baby.

The woman was holding Mei Lin’s baby in her lap and, having made all the three daughters sit down, was about to feed them. On seeing Mei Lin, she smiled and asked, ‘Did you cook?’

‘Yes. Is she causing you any trouble?’

‘No. Please sit.’

Rolling small balls of rice with boiled vegetable and mixing it with salt and oil, the woman first fed her youngest daughter.

With a forced smile, she said, ‘Dhoute sitika, pura maasor pitika … Mashed smoked fish.’

‘Where is the fish? There is no mashed smoked fish today. You are just saying that,’ said Maina, the youngest daughter.

The second daughter, Moni, said, ‘We haven’t had mashed smoked-fish here even once. Maa always lies.’

‘We ate so much fish while we were in the tea garden. But, after coming here, we don’t get to eat properly, you see!’

‘When will we return, Maa?’

‘We will never return, dear. We have been chased away from there.’

‘Why were we chased away, Maa?’

Before anyone could speak, Babu came in excitedly.

‘They have come. They have come. Many people have arrived from India.’