Hira Singh | Page 5

he saluted me.
"What is that officer's name?" I asked, and the man on the ground
seemed astonished that I did not know.
"Risaldar-major Ranjoor Singh bahadur!" he said.
For a second I was possessed by the notion of running after him, until I
recalled that he had known my purpose from the first and that therefore
his purpose must have been deliberate. Obviously, I would better
pursue the opportunity that in his own way He had given me.
"What is your name?" I asked the man on the ground.
"Hira Singh," he answered, and at that I sat down beside him. For I had
also heard of Hira Singh.
He made quite a fuss at first because, he said, the dusty earth beneath a
tree was no place for a sahib. But suddenly he jumped to the conclusion
I must be American, and ceased at once to be troubled about my dignity.
On the other hand, he grew perceptibly less distant. Not more friendly,

perhaps, but less guarded.
"You have talked with Sikhs in California?" he asked, and I nodded.
"Then you have heard lies, sahib. I know the burden of their song. A
bad Sikh and a bad Englishman alike resemble rock torn loose. The
greater the height from which they fall, the deeper they dive into the
mud. Which is the true Sikh, he who marched with us or he who abuses
us? Yet I am told that in America men believe what hired Sikhs write
for the German papers.
"No man hired me, sahib, although one or two have tried. When I came
of age I sought acceptance in the army, and was chosen among many.
When my feet are healed I shall return to duty. I am a true Sikh. If the
sahib cares to listen, I will tell him truth that has not been written in the
papers."
So, having diagnosed my nationality and need, he proceeded to tell me
patiently things that many English are in the dark about, both because
of the censorship and because of the prevailing superstition that the
English resent being told--he stabbing and sweeping at the dust with a
broken twig and making little heaps and dents by way of illustration,--I
sitting silent, brushing away the flies.
Day after day I sought him soon after dawn when they were rolling up
the tent-flaps. I shared the curry and chapatties that a trooper brought to
him at noon, and I fetched water for him to drink from time to time. It
was dusk each day before I left him, so that, what with his patience and
my diligence, I have been able to set down the story as he told it, nearly
in his own words.
But of Risaldar-major Ranjoor Singh bahadur in the flesh, I have not
had another glimpse. I went in search of him the very first evening,
only to learn that he had "passed his medical" that afternoon and had
returned at once to active service.
* * * * * * *

We Sikhs have a proverb, sahib, that the ruler and the ruled are one.
That has many sides to it of which one is this: India having many
moods and minds, the British are versatile. Not altogether wise, for
who is? When, for instance, did India make an end of wooing
foolishness? Since the British rule India, they may wear her flowers,
but they drink her dregs. They may bear her honors, but her blame as
well. As the head is to the body, the ruler and the ruled are one.
Yet, as I understand it, when this great war came there was
disappointment in some quarters and surprise in others because we,
who were known not to be contented, did not rise at once in rebellion.
To that the answer is faith finds faith. It is the great gift of the British
that they set faith in the hearts of other men.
There were dark hours, sahib, before it was made known that there was
war. The censorship shut down on us, and there were a thousand
rumors for every one known fact. There had come a sudden swarm of
Sikhs from abroad, and of other men--all hirelings--who talked much
about Germany and a change of masters. There were dark sayings, and
arrests by night. Men with whom we talked at dusk had disappeared at
dawn. Ranjoor Singh, not yet bahadur but risaldar-major, commanding
Squadron D of my regiment, Outram's Own, became very busy in the
bazaars; and many a night I followed him, not always with his
knowledge. I intended to protect him, but I also wished to know what
the doings were.
There was a woman. Did the sahib ever hear of a plot that had not a
woman in it?