She heard Sita’s steady breathing. She whispered her name several times to make sure. She got out of her bed, picked up the letter from under the pillow, and tiptoed out of the room. She decided to see if Champak were also asleep. She could say she had just seen her mother’s letter and brought it to give to her.

The rain fell on the corrugated tin roof with a deafening roar and drowned all sounds of creaking wood and opening and shutting of doors. Beena called softly to Champak and then tiptoed to her bed. It was empty; even the bedcover had not been removed. She went to the adjoining bathroom and slowly pushed open the door; it too, was empty. She tiptoed through the sitting-room to Madan’s room. The door was shut. She put her palms gently on it and pressed. It was bolted from the inside. She put her ear against it and heard sounds of human voices. She stood rooted to the ground like a statue. All longing turned to cold, sickening hate. She went back to Champak’s bedroom and left her mother’s letter on the pillow. She opened her bedroom door and went out on to the balcony. She stood in the pouring rain staring steadily at Madan’s window. An hour later a light came on in his room and was extinguished a few minutes later. Another light came on in Champak’s room which also went off after a couple of minutes. And all was dark and silent save the thunder of rain on the roof.

The meeting with Taylor did not help to settle the issue for Sher Singh; it only introduced an element of fear to the confusion that already existed. At the two extremes were the Deputy Commissioner and the terrorists: one stood for the status quo with the power to maintain it; the others, for change and the insecurity that is the price of change. In the case of terrorism, the price could be one’s life. Presiding over the two extremes was his father with his conveniently dual morality: ‘Keep up with both sides.’ For him loyalties were not as important as the ability to get away with the impression of having them. To be found out was stupid, even criminal. There was also his temper, of which Sher Singh was as scared as he was of the police. He had his tacit approval of his association with the Nationalists, but he knew that if Buta Singh learned that he had got mixed up with the terrorists, his father would disown him and throw him out of the house. In addition to these factors, there was his own temperament. Despite his love for his country, he knew he was not the sort who ever burnt his bridges himself.