Even the Jangi Lat Wilson Sahib did not like Hodson Sahib. He would not allow him to attack Dilli till he got more troops. And Hodson Sahib’s temper got worse as hot winds became hotter and dust-storms began to blow every afternoon.

One day early in July there was a storm the like of which I had never seen. Brown dust roasted by the sun was flung in fistfuls into our eyes and nostrils! After an hour the same dust turned cool. The day turned into night. The sky exploded with lightning and thunder. Then came the rain sweeping the dust and everything else before it. I ran out of the tent shouting to my friends: ‘Oi, Lehnia! The rains! Oi Nathia! You opium eater come out, the skies have burst!’

We threw off our turbans and uniforms and came out in our under-shorts. We let down our long hair and danced and sang. ‘Oi, if we only had a mashooka today we’d make the soles of her feet count the stars.’

The goras asked the natives what had happened to us. The Pathans shook their heads and smiled. The Dogras sniggered. ‘Sahib, these Sikhs have long hair. The heat gets them and they go crazy.’ We yelled back at them, ‘Oi, your mothers and sisters also have long hair. They must feel the heat. Send them to us, we will cool the heat between their thighs.’ That shut them up.

At dusk the trees were covered with fireflies. We caught them and stuck them in our beards till our beards sparkled. And we danced the bhangra.

It rained all through the night. It beat on our tent like a roar, sometimes like a faint echo from far away. No one could get much sleep.

I rose at dawn. The sky was full of grey and black clouds. Everything looked washed and green. I heard a peacock call paon paon. There were three—one cock and two hens on the parapet of Hindu Rao’s mansion. The cock raised its tail and made it into a fan full of green-blue eyes. I put my head inside the tent and yelled: ‘Get up you opium eaters! A peacock’s dancing!’

‘Let the peacock sleep with its mother,’ replied Lehna gruffly as he turned over. Two men came out to see the wondrous sight.

A peacock dancing on a house-top with black clouds rolling behind is a sight worth a hundred thousand rupees. What beauty the Guru has given this bird! The peacock arched its neck backwards as proud as a young prince vaunting his manliness. It took two steps forward, two steps backwards. Its brown under-wings panted like an impatient lover out of breath. Its feathers quivered with delight.

Thah.

Down came the peacock tumbling over the wall.

Thah Thah.

The two peahens also tumbled down to the ground.

‘Hoi, we’ve got all three!’ cried the goras.