Of Mangoes and Monsoons: A Novel

The euphoria lasted for about half of the week, gradually giving way to increasing apprehension as the next Sunday approached. There was no flag ceremony on the second Sunday either, nor on the third, counting from the week they had sent their letters to the prison authorities. There was tremendous relief all around, and people again began to smile at Ramesh instead of giving him dirty looks. Ramesh and his fellow campaigners thought the matter was resolved definitively in their favor, with the authorities having apparently realized that they had no right to make the prisoners stand in their residences in homage to the flag. They forgot about the issue and went on with their prison routine. Then lightning struck, taking all of them completely unawares. Although they had continued to be slightly apprehensive on every Sunday, there was no reason for apprehension on other days. On the morning of June 10, 1957, which was a Monday, guards stormed into Ramesh's hall and ordered everybody out. Ramesh was in the toilet when the guards came into the hall. He declared his presence in the toilet, and the guards summarily ordered him out of it without respite. He could not wash his hands and was the last prisoner to be taken out of any hall. As his hall was behind the front line of halls, he had no idea as to what was going on even when he reached the yard and saw all the other prisoners in Aguada standing in the yard with their backs to the sea. He was ordered to join them. There was a brutal sergeant who used to come into their halls at night brandishing a pistol for the counting of the prisoners. He now had a submachine gun in his hands, which he cocked in an exaggerated manner and with much demonstrative clatter. With a menacing flourish of the gun, he ordered the prisoners to stand at attention. Clueless till now, Ramesh realized what was going on only when the trumpet sounded.