‘Eternal God, who art our shield

The dagger, knife, the sword we wield

To us protector there is given

The timeless, deathless Lord of Heaven.

It went on, its short staccato lines infusing warm blood into her chilled veins and making her forehead hot with anger. She was a Sikh; so was her son. Why did she ever have any doubts?

By the time the prayer ended, the gray light of dawn had dimmed the lesser stars—only the morning star shone a pure, silvery white. At last there was peace in her soul. She got up and went to the women’s enclosure to bathe. The water was bitter cold and she shuddered as she went down the steps. She bobbed up and down naming members of her family with each dip with five extra ones for her Shera. She had brought no towel and dried herself in the breeze. She got back into her clothes, wrapped the warm shawl about her shoulders, and went to the inner shrine where the morning prayer was about to begin.

The priest unwrapped the Granth and read the passage for the day.

‘Lord, thou art my refuge

I have found Thee and my doubts are dispelled.

I spoke not, but Ye knew my sorrow

And made me to meditate on Thy holy name.

Now I have no sorrow; I am at one with Thee

You took me by my arm

And led me out of Maya’s winding maze

You set me free of the trap of attachment.

Spake the Guru: Thy fetters are fallen

Thou who wert estranged

Are united to Thy Lord.’

Sabhrai made her obeisance to the Granth and went out. At the entrance to the temple she scraped a palmful of dust that had come off the feet of pilgrims and tied it up in a knot in her headpiece. She took her slippers from the shoe stand and went home.

The silence at the breakfast table was broken by the sound of a car drawing up in the porch. Mundoo came in to say that the Deputy Commissioner had sent his car to take Sabhrai to the police station. Buta Singh was very moved: ‘What fine people these Taylors are! They have taken the trouble to find out and sent their car. Almost as if Sher were their own son.’

‘The Guru will reward them for their kindness,’ said Sabhrai. ‘Those who are with you in your sorrow are your real friends. God bless them.’

The entire household, including the servants and orderlies, came to see Sabhrai off on her mission. Dyer, who had missed a car ride ever since the jeep had been taken away, cocked his unbelieving ears when his mistress asked him to come along. He gave a bark of joy and hopped onto the seat beside her. They drove off to the police station.