After Lee Chang and his friends left, Liang Ching Wan stayed back talking with the people, a Red Book in his hand. His mind was filled with happiness. He had got a chance to meet Mao. He had come to the canteen to share his happiness and his experiences with others. His political position had not been easy to attain, especially an overseas Chinese person.

He was describing his experience in Peking with great enthusiasm. People listened to him in awe. For people of such a remote area, Peking was a distant land and Mao was in a more distant planet.

‘I was very close to him. Then they called me. They introduced me to Chairman Mao.’

‘Chairman Mao?’ they asked in awe.

‘Yes. Chairman Mao. He looked at me and smiled. But he didn’t talk to me. I saluted him.’

‘How does Chairman Mao look?’

‘Fat. Very fat. Fat like a pig,’ he laughed joyously. ‘He has become old. Very old. It was great to see him. It felt like meeting God.’

After a while, the returnees got up to leave.

Today, on the occasion of China’s National Day, the school children had organized a special function.

Audience members were seated in the school courtyard where a temporary stage had been set up, covered with bed sheets. The children were enthusiastically preparing for the function. Pramila Gogoi had not come today. She had been running a temperature for a few days. Today, the chief organiser of this program was Mei Hang.

Most of the children could now read and write Chinese. They spoke Hindi, Nepalese and Assamese, and few Chinese words and sentences could be heard interspersed with these languages.

Mei Lin’s daughter knew Assamese better than the others. Mei Lin didn’t pressurize her daughter over anything other than learning Assamese. She wanted her daughter to learn not only the Assamese language but also about Assam’s history and culture. She kept aside some time to teach her daughter these things every day. She told the stories time and again to her daughter. She started copying from Pramila Gogoi’s book and also wrote from memory but stopped midway because of the direction of the camp manager. She had collected the three Assamese novels which belonged to Pulok that Ming brought with him. With Pulok’s name written on them, they had become a part of her heart. She kept the books at her bedside and leafed through them at least once every day and made her daughter read from them.

Mei Lin’s daughter wore a mekhela-chador today. At Mei Hang’s direction, she paid obeisance to the stage by touching the floor, and then stood before the audience. Mei Lin came and sat next to Mei Fung.

Two and a half years had passed since Mei Fung had married Liang. She was expecting their first child. She did not brood like before.