It was a proud moment for Buta Singh. His politeness became more exaggerated. He joined his hands to greet them and escorted them to the sitting room. They took off their shoes and sat down. After a while Buta Singh asked them whether they would like something to drink and, without waiting for a reply, asked again: ‘What are the orders for me?’

The visitors again protested that they were the ones to receive orders not give them. After some shuffling of feet, clearing of throats, and nodding to each other, the eldest in the group spoke: ‘Sardarji, our request is for a licence to take out a religious procession next week.’

‘You know the Deputy Commissioner has promulgated an order banning all meetings and processions,’ replied Buta Singh without looking up.

‘We know that, Sardar Sahib. We will be honest with you. The Sikhs have had their procession and the Muslims have had theirs; then there was no order to ban them. When it comes to our turn, our kismet is bad.’

‘If it is for a Hindu procession, why do you come to me? Go and ask a Hindu official to speak to Mr Taylor. Ask Mr Wazir Chand.’

‘Sardar Sahib, for us you are a Hindu. What is the difference between a Hindu and a Sikh? You tell us.

‘Yes, Sardarji,’ joined the others in a chorus. ‘We are like brothers. No difference at all.’

‘I never said there was any difference; I think we are the same community. You started by saying something about Hindus and Muslims and Sikhs.’

‘Please forgive us,’ said the eldest with his hands joined. ‘It was only a manner of speaking. Most of our homes have Sikh forms of worship. We give our sisters and daughters in marriage to Sikhs. We are kinsmen. Why, brothers, isn’t that the truth?’

‘Truth?’ protested one. ‘Why, there is no greater truth.’

The others nodded approval. The eldest started again. ‘Why should we hide anything from you! We did approach Mr Wazir Chand first but he refused to help. He said, “If you want to get anything from Taylor Sahib, ask Sardar Buta Singh.” We would not have put you to this trouble if we hadn’t been told by everyone in the world that the only man who can do it is Sardar Buta Singh.’

‘This is only your kindness. I will do the best I can,’ said Buta Singh getting up.

The visitors also got up and slipped their feet back into their shoes. ‘When shall we present ourselves?’

‘Come and see me some time tomorrow—at the law courts.’

‘Sardar Sahib,’ spoke another, ‘we have pinned all our hope on you. You do this for us and we will sing your praises the rest of our lives.’

‘We will remain ever grateful,’ exclaimed the others.

‘Acchaji Namaste . . . . Some water or something?’ asked Buta Singh mechanically and without waiting for a reply dismissed them: ‘Namaste.’