‘I did not know you were so kind to people you arrested for murder. It is on a charge of murder that you have brought me here, isn’t it? I do not suppose your policemen told you I came to Mano Majra yesterday on the same train as they did.’

‘We have framed no charge. That is for the court. We are only detaining you on suspicion. We cannot allow political agitators in the border areas.’ The subinspector continued to smile. ‘Why don’t you go and do your propaganda in Pakistan where you belong?’

Iqbal was stung to fury, but he tried to suppress any sign of his anger.

‘What exactly do you mean by “belonging to Pakistan”, Inspector Sahib?’

‘You are a Muslim. You go to Pakistan.’

‘That is a bloody lie,’ exploded Iqbal. ‘What is more, you know it is a bloody lie. You just want to cover up your stupidity by trumping up a false case.’

The Inspector spoke back sourly.

‘You should use your tongue with some discrimination, Mr Iqbal. I am not in your father’s pay to have to put up with your “bloodys”. Your name is Iqbal and you are circumcised. I have examined you myself. Also, you cannot give any explanation for your presence in Mano Majra. That is enough.’

‘It will not be enough when it comes up in court, and in the newspapers. I am not a Muslim—not that that matters—and what I came to Mano Majra for is none of your business. If you do not release me within twenty-four hours I will move a habeas corpus petition and tell the court the way you go about your duties.’

‘Habeas corpus petition?’ The subinspector roared with laughter. ‘It seems you have been living in foreign lands too long, Mr Iqbal. Even now you live in a fool’s paradise. You will live and learn.’

The subinspector left the cell abruptly, and locked the steel bar gate. He opened the adjoining one behind which Jugga was locked.

‘Sat Sri Akal, Inspector Sahib.’

The subinspector did not acknowledge the greeting.

‘Will you ever give up being a budmash?’

‘King of pearls, you can say what you like, but this time I am innocent. I swear by the Guru I am innocent.’

Jugga remained seated on the floor. The subinspector stood leaning against the wall.

‘Where were you on the night of the dacoity?’

‘I had nothing to do with the dacoity,’ answered Jugga evasively.

‘Where were you on the night of the dacoity?’ repeated the subinspector.

Jugga looked down at the floor. ‘I had gone to my fields. It was my turn of water.’

The subinspector knew he was lying. ‘I can check up the turn of water with the canal man. Did you inform the lambardar that you were going out of the village?’

Jugga only shuffled his feet and kept on looking at the floor.