‘Here!’ he said slapping his chest again. ‘What will you say!’

They shook hands a third time.

‘Mr Mussadi Lalji, I’ll sing your praises. If there were a few more brave people like you, India would have been free many years ago.’

The collector accepted the compliment; they shook hands for the fourth time and said goodbye.

Madan joined Champak for dinner. He ordered two bottles of beer and drank them in the Hindu refreshment room which had no licence to sell liquor nor a permit to allow consumption of alcoholic beverage. Madan was above these pretty rules and regulations; and now he was celebrating his victory over the British army.

He ate his dinner with relish and relaxed with a cigarette. When it was finished, he got up, took Champak by the elbow: ‘Let’s go.’ On the way to the compartment he bought some betel leaves charged with lime paste, cardamoms, and scented betel nuts. He ordered a couple of iced bottles of lemonade to be left in the coupé and told the coolie to spread the bedding rolls on the berths. He left Champak to change while he took a stroll on the platform.

The train was due to leave at midnight but most of the upper class passengers had retired and put up the shutters of their compartments. The inter and third classes were also quiet with people dozing on each other’s shoulders. The hawkers had packed up and left. The platform was deserted except for the railway staff.

Many soldiers were still in the refreshment rooms drinking beer when the guard’s whistle summoned them to the train. They trudged out in the sweltering heat with their heavy packs on their backs and their Sten guns slung on their shoulders. Most of them found their berths indicated on the counterfoils they carried. Only two remained. They went up and down the platform peering at reservation slips to find one that matched their own. The engine driver blew the warning whistle. The soldiers began to shout for the guard. Instead of the guard, they found Mussadi Lal walking quickly away towards the end of the platform.

‘Hey, you, Babu. Where’s our berths?’

‘Sir?’

‘Them places to sleep on you know! Charpoy bashin!’ One of them shut his eyes and put his cheek against his hand. ‘Unnerstan?’ The other showed him the counterfoil. Mussadi Lal examined it carefully and consulted the reservations in his book.

‘Sir, I have no record of this reservation. There is no place on the train. You can go by the morning express.’

‘Mawhnin? Wot you talkin Babu? Court martial if we don’t get there tomorrer. Court martial you know?’ The soldier unslung his Sten gun, stuck the nozzle in Mussadi Lal’s belly and explained ‘Tatatatatatattat—bang.’ He fell back a step to indicate the effect of the firing. ‘Unnerstan? Give us them berths or we’ll stick the gun up your tail. Hurry-Juldi.’

The guard blew his whistle and waved his green lantern. The engine gave another blast and jerked the train into movement.