City of Ghosts (13 page)

A few cheers went up from the crowd. The doctor glanced nervously about. Was he being set up? he wondered. Was this some kind of trick?

‘I know this boy!' someone shouted. ‘He is nothing more than a criminal.'

This time the youth turned to see who had spoken. But once again no one came forward. He turned to Dr Satyapal.

‘The day is upon us, old man. And in the midst of battle you can carry your pencils and your books and your petitions. I'll be carrying my gun. Let us see who survives.'

The doctor let his gaze drop once again. The young
man before him had an emptiness in his eyes – an emptiness that made the doctor's soul shiver. There was an evil so fierce in the boy that Satyapal began to fear for his life.

The young man turned to the crowd. ‘There is a revolution to fight right now!' he cried out. ‘And you are either with us, comrades, or against us. Decide which side you'll follow – and soon, because we will not wait. And when we are victorious, men such as the doctor here will be sent packing with the British – collaborators one and all!'

Some of the crowd shouted their support for him. Yet more shouted in support of Dr Satyapal. The boy smiled – a grim, cold smile. Then he turned to the doctor for the last time.

‘Enjoy Vaisakhi, Doctor-ji,' he said. ‘And watch out for the tide. It is turning faster than you think and you might just drown . . .'

And with that he walked off through the crowd, followed by his gang. As they passed through, one or two members of the crowd joined them. Dr Satyapal stood and shook his head. He had always known that there was anger –
real
anger – that might one day erupt into bloodshed, but he had never envisaged India following the path of Russia. Now he was not so sure. Menlike the one he had just encountered were dangerous; highly dangerous. God only knew how many others he had poisoned with his misplaced rage. He turned to one of his supporters.

‘Watch out for that youth,' he said.

‘Yes, Doctor-ji.'

Ten minutes later Pritam, Jeevan, Rana and Ram were standing outside a store front. There were two other young men with them, Sucha Singh and Bahadhur Khan, both of whom had joined after the altercation with Dr Satyapal.

‘That treacherous snake,' Pritam said. ‘One day I will take my blade and cut out his heart.'

‘I thought he was on our side,' Jeevan said.

Pritam shook his head. ‘Never. That bastard talks and then compromises,
bhai
. There is no room for such things. If our country is to be truly free, then we must fight and fight and fight again. We must kill and kill and kill again. There is no time for these fat, lazy peacemakers.'

‘How true that is!' said a voice from behind Jeevan.

He turned to see Hans Raj standing smiling at him – their mysterious leader who always seemed to appear as if from nowhere and then disappear again into thin air. His eyes burned with an intensity that made Jeevan fearful; an intensity that failed to match his smile, as though the two halves of his face had stopped communicating with each other.

‘Come!' said Hans Raj. ‘Let us get inside and drink some tea.'

The store owner brought them cups of tea made from water-buffalo milk – thick and sugary and steaming hot. Hans Raj silenced his charges. Since he had arrived
in Amritsar six months earlier, he had steadily coached these young men. He had lectured them and cajoled them too, telling them of the plight of their fellow Indians, from Lahore to Calcutta. He'd spoken of the thousands who had died at the hands of the British, and of the starvation and poverty that their misrule had created. In Pritam he'd found an ideal captain. A young man with rage burning in his heart and ice freezing his soul, shielding it from any weak moments. From emotions.

The others were raw, but it mattered little to Hans Raj. He had been sent to do a job and he had almost succeeded. Now was the time to put his gang into action.

‘Gandhi is due in the Punjab today but the British will bar him,' he told them.

Rana Lal put up his hand like a schoolboy.

‘What is it?' asked Hans Raj, showing his impatience.

‘How do you know this?'

Hans Raj shrugged. ‘From the Brotherhood in Delhi – a telegram reached me this very morning.'

‘Oh . . .'Rana Lal looked thoughtful.

The Brotherhood was a group of like-minded men, Hans Raj had told Jeevan. A collection of patriots whose task it was to save India. There were cells springing up all over the country, from the tribal lands of the North-Western Frontier down to the beaches of Kerala. Honest, decent men who would not bow to the British and who saw no profit in a negotiated peace. As the
great Sikh armies had done before them, they were prepared to fight to the end.

‘I still don't understand what the Brotherhood is,' said Jeevan.

Hans Raj eyed him and then smiled. ‘We are just men,' he replied. ‘As I told you when you joined our family, we seek to remove the chains that bind us through
real
action – the bullet and the bomb – and replace the
goreh
with a fairer system. A government of the people, led by a small elite, to ensure that
all
the people of India are looked after.'

‘Just as in Russia,' added Pritam, turning to his mentor. ‘Is that not so,
ji
?'

Hans Raj stroked his chin and then nodded. ‘Like Russia,' he agreed. ‘But based on what
our
people need.'

‘My father needs some land,' said Rana Lal. ‘He cannot feed our family. That's why I came to work in the city.'

Hans Raj clapped his hand across Rana Lal's back. ‘And land he shall have! Every man shall have at least one plot of his own. That will be our way!'

Rana Lal smiled in satisfaction. Hans Raj turned to Pritam. ‘We must talk in private,' he told his protégé. ‘You cannot be too careful with these British. Their spies are everywhere.'

‘Shall we go to the meeting room?' suggested Pritam.

Hans Raj nodded. ‘You men stay here until Pritam returns. He will have tasks for you to perform, and when India is free, I will personally make sure that
your deeds are rewarded. For now, however, your reward is tea and
paratha
.'

He gestured to the owner, who came over hurriedly. Hans Raj pulled a wodge of rupee notes from his pocket. ‘Feed these boys,
bhai
,' he told him. ‘And feed them well. They are foot soldiers in the battle for our mother.'

The shopkeeper took the money and nodded. ‘
Bhai
,' he said, looking at the rupees in his hand, ‘for this money you can send me three more to feed!'

‘Perhaps I will!' laughed Hans Raj, before turning to give Jeevan a wink.

THE GANG HAD
spent most of the day prowling the lanes and back alleys of old Amritsar. After nailing the poster to the Clock Tower, Pritam had told them that they were going hunting.

‘Hunting for what?' Sucha had asked.

‘The enemy,' Pritam had replied.

Now, many hours later, they were walking back to their meeting room, exhausted and hungry, without having seen any of their intended prey.

‘Not a single
gorah
anywhere,' moaned Rana Lal.

‘Perhaps they know what is coming,' suggested Ram. ‘Perhaps they have taken to the fort in fear.'

Pritam snorted as they passed a shack that sold tea and food. The owner greeted them as they passed by, but Jeevan was the only one to reply.

‘May God bless you,' the shop owner called out.

At the end of the street they took a left, heading for
their meeting room in Kucha Kurrichan. A hundred yards down the lane, and then left again into the dark alley that led to the brothel. A drunkard appeared from the gloom, his face contorted into a grim smile. As Jeevan sidestepped to avoid a collision, the drunkard shoved him aside.

‘
Maachord!
' he swore.

Before Jeevan could blink, Pritam was upon the drunken man. He wrestled him to the ground and began to punch his head. The man cried out as Pritam's fists connected with flesh and bone, trying in vain to shield himself. As the rest of the gang looked on in shock, Pritam seemed to gain momentum, his hands a blur. Eventually the man gave up any attempt at resistance and let out a low moan. Rana and Jeevan grabbed Pritam and dragged him away.

‘He is finished!' shouted Jeevan. ‘Enough!'

Pritam steadied himself and then wiped his hands on his clothes. He turned away from the man. ‘Drunken dog!' he spat.

The man sat up against the rust-coloured wall and let out a sigh. His left eye was completely closed over, his right a bloody mess. Still he looked at his assailant and taunted him.

‘When you fell from your mother's hole, you were the second man to pass through it,' he whispered softly. ‘I was the first and I went in the other way.' Then he began to chuckle to himself.

Pritam stopped and turned back.

‘
Nay, bhai
,' begged Jeevan. ‘He is drunk and beaten to a pulp. Let him be—'

Suddenly Pritam was in his face, his soulless eyes boring into Jeevan's. ‘You dare tell me what I should do?' he whispered.

Jeevan felt perspiration in his armpits. His tongue seemed to convulse and the breath drained from his body. He croaked in reply, his legs twitching with fear. Real fear. ‘
Nay
,' he managed to get out.

Pritam looked beyond Jeevan to the man sitting by the wall.

‘Your mother worked here,' the drunkard added. ‘Everyone knows her . . .'

Pritam pretended to smile. As he did so, he drew a small blade from his pocket and went over. The man whimpered only slightly as Pritam slid the blade into his bloody eye.

‘
Bhai!
' Jeevan cried out.

‘
What the hell is this?
' an older voice demanded from the darkness.

Jeevan turned to see Hans Raj appear from the shadows. He searched his eyes, trying to keep the tears from spilling down his face.

‘Pritam . . .'Jeevan whispered.

The other young men stood aside as Hans Raj pushed past Jeevan and knelt beside Pritam and the dead man. ‘The rest of you, get inside!' he spat without looking up.

Sucha and Bahadhur Khan led the way. Jeevan
allowed Rana and Ram to follow but didn't move himself.

‘All of you!' added Hans Raj.

Jeevan took another look at the dead man, shivered and then followed the others. Behind him he heard Hans Raj tell Pritam to help him drag the body inside. The alleyway remained empty of witnesses, and once the body was inside the meeting room, Hans Raj shut and bolted the door. Then he turned to Pritam.

‘What is this?' he asked.

Pritam shrugged. Not even a flicker of emotion passed over his face. ‘He insulted my honour,' he explained. ‘And that of my mother.'

Hans Raj shook his head. ‘What have I told you?'

‘He asked for this fate,' replied Pritam.

‘And if someone had seen you . . .? If the
goreh
had been walking past . . .?'

‘We haven't seen a white man all day,' Pritam said. ‘Otherwise there would be more than one body to dispose of.'

Hans Raj turned to the others. ‘This is nothing,' he said quietly. ‘A simple mistake. You did not see this, any of you. Is that understood?'

None of the young men responded. Instead they shot each other glances. Jeevan shook his head.

‘You don't understand?' asked Hans Raj.

‘I do,' replied Jeevan. ‘But this man was not our enemy. He was just drunk.'

Hans Raj came over and placed a hand on his
shoulder. ‘They are
all
enemies, my son,' he said quietly. ‘What was this man doing to free our country? Walking the back alleys soaked in alcohol, stumbling from door to door, with no purpose and no honour.'

‘But—' began Jeevan, only for Hans Raj to stop him with a look.

‘No buts,
beteh
. There is no time to waste on these fools. Those who are not with us are against us. Yes – it was wrong, but Pritam is one of
us
. We
must
stick by each other – one family.'

Jeevan shook his head again. ‘No,
bhai-ji
. . . He was just a drunk. It's not right,' he said.

Hans Raj turned to look at Pritam. Then he changed tack. ‘If we don't defend each other, then the British have
won
,' he told Jeevan. ‘This poor man should not have died, but it is the
British
and
their
laws that drive our people to drink and to fight. It is their vile and wicked rule that divides and, yes, sometimes makes us act like animals. Do you think there were drunks and prostitutes and murder
before
they arrived in our country? No! It is
they
who brought their wicked ways with them. And as they grow ever more powerful and stand with an even heavier boot on the neck of a free India, it us
our
people who divide and suffer and
die
!'

Jeevan looked into his face and saw his sincerity. He bowed his head.

‘Remember what I told you when we spoke of your mother?' added Hans Raj. ‘Of how the British divide us
and make us act like animals? This is yet another example, my son.'

‘You are right,
bhai-ji
,' Jeevan said. ‘I'm sorry.'

Hans Raj sighed and told Jeevan not to apologize. ‘There is no need. We are all brothers here. Brothers with a common enemy. There will be many times when we laugh and many
more
when we cry. But we must come through it all as brothers – otherwise what will happen to our beautiful mother?'

Jeevan nodded. ‘I understand,
bhai-ji
.'

‘Your mother may have been lost to you,' Hans Raj went on, pushing all the right buttons. ‘But
we
are your family now.
India
is your mother . . . I will not let you be orphaned again, Jeevan – that was my special promise to you and you alone when we met. Understand?'