‘That is what I came to report, sir. Muslims of some villages have started leaving for the refugee camps. Chundunnugger has been partly evacuated. Pakistan army lorries with Baluchi and Pathan soldiers have been picking them up whenever information has been brought. But the Mano Majra Muslims are still there and this morning the lambardar reported the arrival of forty or fifty Sikh refugees who had crossed the river by the ford at dawn. They are putting up at the temple.’

‘Why were they allowed to stop?’ asked Hukum Chand sharply. ‘You know very well the orders are that all incoming refugees must proceed to the camp at Jullundur. This is serious. They may start the killing in Mano Majra.’

‘No, sir, the situation is well in hand up till now. These refugees have not lost much in Pakistan and apparently no one molested them on the way. The Muslims of Mano Majra have been bringing them food at the temple. If others turn up who have been through massacres and have lost relations, then it will be a different matter. I had not thought of the river crossings. Usually, after the rains the river is a mile in breadth and there are no fords till November or December. We have hardly had any rain this year. There are several points where people can cross and I have not got enough policemen to patrol the riverside.’

Hukum Chand looked across the rest-house grounds. The rain was falling steadily. Little pools had begun to form in the ditches. The sky was a flat stretch of slate gray.

‘Of course, if it keeps raining, the river will rise and there will not be many fords to cross. One will be able to control refugee movements over the bridges.’

A crash of lightning and thunder emphasized the tempo of the rain. The wind blew a thin spray onto the verandah.

‘But we must get the Muslims out of this area whether they like it or not. The sooner the better.’

There was a long pause in the conversation. Both men sat staring into the rain. Hukum Chand began to speak again.

‘One should bow before the storm till it passes. See the pampas grass! Its leaves bend before the breeze. The stem stands stiff in its plumed pride. When the storm comes it cracks and its white plume is scattered by the winds like fluffs of thistledown.’ After a pause he added, ‘A wise man swims with the current and still gets across.’

The subinspector heard the platitudes with polite attention. He did not see their significance to his immediate problem. Hukum Chand noticed the blank expression on the police officer’s face. He had to make things more plain.

‘What have you done about Ram Lal’s murder? Have you made any further arrests?’

‘Yes, sir, Jugga budmash gave us the names yesterday. They are men who were at one time in his own gang: Malli and four others from village Kapura two miles down the river. But Jugga was not with them. I have sent some constables to arrest them this morning.’