Amitav Ghosh - The Glass Palace

Cycling down to the office, Dinu noticed that a large number of people had collected on the parade ground. On approaching he saw that Ilongo was addressing the assembly, standing on a chair, speaking in Tamil. Dinu caught his eye and signalled to him to step aside for a quick word.

‘What’s happening, Ilongo?’

‘Haven’t you been listening to the radio?’

‘No.’

‘Japan’s entered the war. The airstrip at Sungei Pattani has been bombed.’

Dinu took a moment to absorb this. ‘Alison went to Sungei Pattani this morning. .’ he said. ‘We have to go down there and see if she’s all right. .’

‘I can’t go right now.’ Ilongo gestured at the people assembled on the parade ground. ‘They’re waiting. .’

‘Why — what do they want?’

‘The managers of some of the neighbouring estates have abandoned their offices and driven off to Singapore. Our people here are worried. They want to make sure they’ll get paid. .’ Breaking off to reach into his pocket Ilongo pulled out a set of keys. ‘Here — you go yourself. Take the truck.’

Dinu pushed the keys back. ‘I don’t drive.’

‘Then wait — I’ll be done soon.’

Dinu watched from the balcony of the estate office while Ilongo addressed the assembly. The meeting seemed to last for ever: it was noon by the time the crowd began to disperse. Shortly afterwards Ilongo started up the truck, and they drove off in the direction of Sungei Pattani.

They soon ran into another crowd. The air raids had ended a good few hours before, but people were pouring down the road, heading away from town. Many were on foot; several families had their belongings slung over their shoulders, tied up in sheets; a boy was pushing a bicycle with a huge radio strapped to the carrier; two men were pulling an elderly woman behind them in a makeshift trolley. Nearer town the roads were clogged with honking cars. Sitting stalled in the truck, Ilongo began to ask questions, leaning out of the driver’s window: he learnt that the air raid had taken the town by surprise; there had been no alarms, no warning. Now, everyone who had the option was heading into the countryside, to wait out the trouble.

They parked the truck behind a shop and walked into town. They checked all the places where Alison might conceivably have gone — the banks were empty and most of the shops had their shutters down. Alison’s hairdresser was gone.

‘Where could she be?’

‘She’ll be all right — don’t worry.’

On the way back to the estate, they took a road that led them past the perimeter of the airstrip. The apron was littered with smoking heaps of metal but the runways were untouched. They came across an Indian — a caretaker who told them that there was a rumour that the Japanese bombers had been guided in by a spy, a traitor from the British forces.

‘An Indian?’ Dinu asked apprehensively.

‘No — an Englishman. We saw him being led away, under arrest.’

Dinu was both shocked and relieved.

It was only when they were back at Ilongo’s house that Dinu remembered that he’d been planning to leave for Penang. He decided to put off his departure for the time being: he couldn’t leave without making sure that Alison was all right. He went up to Morningside and sat down to wait.

By the time Alison’s car came up the driveway it was almost sunset. Dinu was at the door, waiting. The relief of seeing her unharmed had the effect of uncorking all the anxieties of the day. He began to shout as she stepped out of the roadster. ‘Alison. . where the hell have you been? You’ve been gone the whole damned day. .’

She snapped back at him: ‘And what about you? Where were you last night?’

‘I was at Ilongo’s,’ he said defiantly. ‘I’m going to leave. . for Rangoon.’

She gave a hard little laugh. ‘Good luck to you then. Let’s see how far you get.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I was in Butterworth this morning. There’s chaos on the roads. I don’t think you’re going to get very far.

‘Butterworth? What were you doing in Butterworth?’

She raised an eyebrow and her voice went cold. ‘It’s none of your business.’ She brushed past him and went up the stairs to her bedroom.

Dinu stood fuming in the porch for a few minutes and then followed her up the stairs. ‘Alison. .’ He knocked at the door, his voice contrite. ‘I’m sorry. . I was just worried.’

She opened the door, wearing a white satin slip. Before he could say any more, she threw her arms around him. ‘Oh, Dinu.’

‘Alison. . I was frantic. . you being gone all day, with the bombing. .’

‘You shouldn’t have worried. I was fine — nowhere near the bombs. They were hitting the port and I was on the other side of town.’

‘But why did you go there anyway. .? All the way to Butterworth? What for?’

She took his face between her hands and kissed him. ‘I’ll tell you later,’ she said. ‘Let’s not talk about it now. Let’s just be glad we’re together and we’re both all right.’

Several hours passed without the 1/1 Jats receiving any word from divisional headquarters. Just after nightfall, a convoy of trucks arrived to move them to another location. They could tell they were travelling north but it was very dark and they could see nothing of the countryside.

At dawn Arjun discovered that they were encamped inside a rubber plantation. Beyond a few hundred yards the greenery seemed to solidify into a circular, bark-striped wall. Between the canopy of green leaves above and the carpet of dead foliage underfoot there seemed to be no direct light and no shadows. Sound appeared to travel and linger without revealing its point of origin. It was as though he had woken up to find himself inside an immense maze where the roof and the floor had been padded with cotton wool.

At the morning’s briefing they learnt that the battalion was now positioned near the township of Jitra, very close to the northernmost tip of the Federated Malay States. Here the peninsula narrowed to a thin neck, forming a bridge between Malaya and Siam: any army advancing from the north would have to squeeze through this gullet and it was here that a southerly advance could best be throttled. The 1/1 Jats, along with several other battalions, had been concentrated along the north — south highway. It was along this road that the Japanese were expected to make their advance. Chance had thus thrust the 1/1 Jats into the first line of defence.

Arjun was commanding his battalion’s C Company: they were positioned a few hundred yards to the left of the north— south highway. Hardy was with D Company, on the far side of the road. They were flanked by the Leicestershire Regiment on one side and the 14th Punjab on the other.

The first job was to dig trenches, but here again the terrain proved deceptive. The soft loamy soil was easy to dig into, but hard to shore up. Ground water leaked in at unpredictable depths. The wireless sets began to malfunction and the problem was traced to the environment: the placement of the trees was found to interfere with the reception of radio waves. Even runners could not be relied upon. Disoriented by the geometrical maze of the plantation, they kept losing their way.

Then the rains broke. It dripped constantly and this too reinforced the impression of being locked inside a padded cage. Looking up, the soldiers would see rain pouring down from the sky. But by the time the water reached them, the showers had slowed to a steady drizzle. The dripping would continue long after the rain had stopped. They would look up to find that the skies had cleared; yet down where they were the rain kept falling, hour after weary hour. It was as though the leafy canopy were a wet mattress, emptying slowly under its own weight.