Amitav Ghosh - The Glass Palace

Hardy clapped Kishan Singh on the shoulder. ‘ Shabash !’

‘Now tell me—’ Arjun jogged Hardy’s elbow—‘what’s going on here?’

‘No hurry, yaar,’ Hardy said. ‘I’ll tell you, but we should get you cleaned up first. Where exactly were you hit?’

‘Hamstring, I think.’

‘Is it bad?’

‘Better today.’

‘Let’s go somewhere where we can sit down. We’ll get your wound dressed.’

Hardy beckoned to a soldier. ‘ Jaldi — M.O. ko bhejo .’ He led Arjun into one of the shacks and held the door open. ‘Our HQ,’ he said with a grin.

It was dark inside, the narrow windows being draped in ragged bits of cloth. The walls were of wood, covered with layers of soot, and there was a powerful smell of smoke. Beside one wall there stood a narrow string charpoy : Hardy led Arjun to the bed and helped him sit down.

There was a knock at the door and the medical orderly entered. He subjected Arjun’s bandage to a careful examination and then ripped it off, in one quick movement. Arjun grimaced and Hardy handed him a glass of water.

‘Drink up. You need it.’

Arjun drained the glass and handed it back. ‘Hardy?’ he said. ‘Where’s Bucky?’

‘He’s resting,’ said Hardy. ‘There’s a vacant shed down the road. It was the only suitable place for him. His arm’s been troubling him. We had to give him painkillers. He’s been out all morning.’

The orderly began to swab Arjun’s wound and he braced himself by gripping the edge of the bed.

‘So tell me, Hardy,’ he said, through gritted teeth. ‘What’s going on here?’

‘I’ll make it as short as possible,’ said Hardy. ‘It happened like this: last night, not long after we lost you, we came across a couple of rubber tappers. They were Indian and when we spoke to them they said we would be safe in the coolie lines. They brought us here. They were very welcoming: gave us food, beds. Showed us the shed where we put Bucky. We didn’t know this then, but it turned out that some of them were members of the Indian Independence League. They sent word to their office and this morning Gianiji arrived, in a car — flying the flag. You can imagine how amazed we were. Turns out he’s Giani Amreek Singh — recognise the name? His signature was on the pamphlets the Japs dropped on us at Jitra.’

‘Yes,’ said Arjun, drily. ‘I know that name. What does he want?’

Hardy paused, humming a tune under his breath. Arjun knew that he was thinking carefully about what he was going to say next.

‘Arjun, do you remember Captain Mohun Singh?’

‘Yes. 1/14 Punjab, right? Wasn’t he at Jitra too? I thought I saw him on the way to the Asoon line.’

‘Yes. They took cover in the plantation and headed eastwards just as we did.’

‘So what about Captain Mohun Singh?’

‘Gianiji told me that he’d made contact with the Indian Independence League.’

‘Go on.’

‘Wait.’ The orderly had finished dressing Arjun’s wound. Hardy saw him out and then shut the door. He paused, running a finger through his beard. ‘Look, Arjun,’ he said, ‘I don’t know how you’ll take this. I’m just telling you what I know. .’

‘Go on. Hardy.’

‘Captain Mohun Singh has taken a big step.’

‘What step?’

‘He’s decided to break with the Britishers.’

‘What?’

‘Yes,’ said Hardy in a flat, even voice. ‘He’s going to form an independent unit — the Indian National Army. All the 14th Punjab officers are with him — the Indians I mean. Kumar, Masood, many others too. They’ve invited all of us to join.’

‘So?’ Arjun said. ‘Are you thinking of doing it?’

‘What can I say, Arjun?’ Hardy smiled. ‘You know how I feel. I’ve never made a secret of my views — unlike some of you chaps.’

‘Hardy, wait.’ Arjun stabbed a finger at him. ‘Just think a minute. Don’t be in a hurry. How do you know who this Giani is? How do you even know he’s telling the truth about Captain Mohun Singh? How do you know he’s not just a Japanese stooge?’

‘Amreek Singh was in the army too,’ Hardy said. ‘He knew my father — his village isn’t far from ours. If he is a Japanese stooge then there must be some reason why he became one. In any case, who are we to call him a stooge?’ Hardy laughed. ‘After all, aren’t we the biggest stooges of all?’

‘Wait.’ Arjun tried to marshal his thoughts. It was a huge relief to be able to speak out at last, to bring into the open the long arguments that he had conducted with himself in the secrecy of his mind.

‘So what does this mean?’ Arjun said. ‘That Mohun Singh and his lot will be fighting on the Japanese side?’

‘Yes. Of course. For the time being — until the British are out of India.’

‘But Hardy — let’s think this thing through. What do the Japanese want with us? Do they care about us and our independence? All they want is to push the Britishers out so they can step in and take their place. They just want to use us: don’t you see that?’

‘Of course they do, Arjun,’ Hardy shrugged his acquiescence. ‘If it wasn’t them it would be someone else. There’ll always be someone trying to use us. That’s why this is so hard, don’t you see? This is the first time in our lives that we’re trying to make up our own minds — not taking orders.’

‘Hardy, look.’ Arjun made an effort to keep his voice calm. ‘That’s how it may look to you right now, but just ask yourself: what are the chances that we’ll be able to do anything for ourselves? Most likely we’ll just end up helping the Japs to get into India. And what would be the point of exchanging the Britishers for the Japanese? As colonial masters go the British aren’t that bad — better than most. Certainly a lot better than the Japanese would be.’

Hardy gave a full-throated laugh, his eyes shining. ‘Yaar Arjun, think of where we’ve fallen when we start talking of good masters and bad masters. What are we? Dogs? Sheep? There are no good masters and bad masters, Arjun — in a way the better the master, the worse the condition of the slave, because it makes him forget what he is. .’

They were glaring at each other, their faces no more than inches apart. Hardy’s eyelid was twitching and Arjun could feel the heat of his breath. He was the first to pull away.

‘Hardy, it won’t help for us to fight each other.’

‘No.’

Arjun began to chew his knuckles. ‘Listen, Hardy,’ he said. ‘Don’t think that I disagree with what you’re saying. I don’t. I think for the most part you’re right on the mark. But I’m just trying to think about us — about men like you and me— about our place in the world.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘Just look at us, Hardy — just look at us. What are we? We’ve learnt to dance the tango and we know how to eat roast beef with a knife and fork. The truth is that except for the colour of our skin, most people in India wouldn’t even recognise us as Indians. When we joined up we didn’t have India on our minds: we wanted to be sahibs and that’s what we’ve become. Do you think we can undo all of that just by putting up a new flag?’

Hardy shrugged dismissively. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m a simple soldier, yaar. I don’t know what you’re trying to get at. To me, it’s a question of right and wrong — what’s worth fighting for and what’s not. That’s all.’

There was a knock on the door. Hardy opened it to see Giani Amreek Singh standing outside.

‘Everyone’s waiting. .’

‘Gianiji, ek minit . .’ Hardy turned back to Arjun. ‘Look, Arjun—’ his voice was tired after the effort of the argument— ‘I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. Gianiji has offered to take us through the Jap lines, to Mohun Singh. For myself I’ve made up my mind already. I’m going to explain this to the men; I’m going to tell them why I think this is the right thing to do. They can decide for themselves. Do you want to come and listen?’