‘You mean Iqbal?’ Meet Singh said. ‘I had quite a long conversation with him. He had an iron bangle on his wrist like all of us Sikhs and told me that his mother had wanted him to wear it, so he wore it. He is a shaven Sikh. He does not smoke. And he came the day after the moneylender’s murder.’

‘Bhai, you get taken in easily,’ replied the same youth. ‘Does it hurt a Mussulman to wear an iron bangle or not smoke for a day—particularly if he has some important work to do?’

‘I may be a simple bhai,’ protested Meet Singh warmly, ‘but I know as well as you that the babu had nothing to do with the murder; he would not have been in the village afterwards if he had. That any fathead would understand.’

The youth felt a little abashed.

‘Besides that,’ continued Meet Singh more confidently, ‘they had already arrested Malli for the dacoity . . . ’

‘How do you know what they had arrested Malli for?’ interrupted the youth triumphantly.

‘Yes, how do you know what the police know? They have released Malli. Have you ever known them to release murderers without a trial and acquittal?’ asked some others.

‘Bhai, you always talk without reason.’

‘Accha, if you are the ones with all the reason, tell me who threw the packet of bangles into Jugga’s house.’

‘How should we know?’ answered a chorus.

‘I will tell you. It was Jugga’s enemy Malli. You all know they had fallen out. Who else would dare insult Jugga except he?’

No one answered the question. Meet Singh went on aggressively to drive his point home. ‘And all this about Sultana, Sultana! What has that to do with the dacoity?’

‘Yes, Bhaiji, you may be right,’ said another youth. ‘But Lal is dead: why bother about him? The police will do that. Let Jugga, Malli and Sultana settle their quarrels. As for the babu, for all we care he can sleep with his mother. Our problem is: what are we to do with all these pigs we have with us? They have been eating our salt for generations and see what they have done! We have treated them like our own brothers. They have behaved like snakes.’

The temperature of the meeting went up suddenly. Meet Singh spoke angrily.

‘What have they done to you? Have they ousted you from your lands or occupied your houses? Have they seduced your womenfolk? Tell me, what have they done?’

‘Ask the refugees what they have done to them,’ answered the truculent youth who had started the argument. ‘You mean to tell us that they are lying when they say that gurudwaras have been burned and people massacred?’

‘I was only talking of Mano Majra. What have our tenants done?’

‘They are Muslims.’

Meet Singh shrugged his shoulders.

The lambardar felt it was up to him to settle the argument.