Chapters (53)
- Cover
- Khushwant Singh
- COLLECTED NOVELS
- Books by the Same Author
- Introduction
- Train to Pakistan
- Dedication
- Dacoity
- Kalyug
- Mano Majra
- Karma
- I Shall Not Hear The Nightingale
- Dedication
- Please Read This Note Before Reading the Novel
- Characters in the Story
- Chapter I
- Chapter II
- Chapter III
- Chapter IV
- Chapter V
- Chapter VI
- Chapter VII
- Chapter VIII
- Chapter IX
- Chapter X
- Chapter XI
- Chapter XII
- Chapter XIII
- Delhi
- Dedication
- Delhi
- Lady J.H.T.
- Bhagmati
- Musaddi Lal
- Bhagmati
- The Timurid
- Bhagmati
- The Untouchables
- Bhagmati
- Aurangzeb Alamgir: Emperor of Hindustan
- Bhagmati
- Nadir Shah
- Bhagmati
- Meer Taqi Meer
- Bhagmati
- 1857
- Bhagmati
- The Builders
- Bhagmati
- The Dispossessed
- Bhagmati
- A Note from the Author
- Footnotes
Those who mean to experience it should come to India some time in March or April. The flowers are on their way out and the trees begin to lose their foliage. The afternoon breeze has occasional whiffs of hot air to warn one of the days to come. For the next three months the sky becomes a flat and colourless gray without a wisp of a cloud anywhere. People suffer great agony. Sweat comes out of every pore and the clothes stick to the body. Prickly heat erupts behind the neck and spreads over the body till it bristles like a porcupine and one is afraid to touch oneself. The thirst is unquenchable, no matter how much one drinks. The nights are spent shadow-boxing in the dark trying to catch mosquitoes and slapping oneself in an attempt to squash those hummings near one’s ears. One scratches and curses when bitten; knowing that the mosquitoes are stroking their bloated bellies safely perched in the farthest corners of the nets, that they have gorged themselves on one’s blood. When the cool breeze of the morning starts blowing, one dozes off and dreams of paradise with ice cool streams running through lush green valleys. Just then the sun comes up strong and hot and smacks one in the face. Another day begins with its heat and its glare and its dust.
After living through all this for ninety days or more, one’s mind becomes barren and bereft of hope. It is then that the monsoon makes its spectacular entry. Dense masses of dark clouds sweep across the heavens like a celestial army with black banners. The deep roll of thunder sounds like the beating of a billion drums. Crooked shafts of silver zigzag in lightning flashes against the black sky. Then comes the rain itself. First it falls in fat drops; the earth rises to meet them. She laps them up thirstily and is filled with fragrance. Then it comes in torrents which she receives with the supine gratitude of a woman being ravished by her lover. It impregnates her with life which bursts forth in abundance within a few hours. Where there was nothing, there is everything: green grass, snakes, centipedes, worms, and millions of insects.