It had been more than twelve days, and the stream of evacuees was moving endlessly. The Japanese, along the other bank of the Irrawaddy River and climbing uphill through Taunggyi, had already advanced up to Lashio. The word was that they were already at Mainabusty. Pensioner Subedar Dhanpad Subba, from the neighbourhood, had led his family away four days ago. Yesterday, out of the blue, Jamadar Baghbir Mukhia left as well. Everyone was running away in hordes.
Fifteen-year-old Jaimaya came out onto the shaded veranda of her house, then went back in again to hold her mother tightly in her arms. She wanted to run away like the others, but was afraid to be laughed at. For the last four days, Subedar Shibajit Rai had been staring at the road from his open window, from morning until nightfall. Among the evacuees, there seemed to be almost equal numbers of people that he knew and those he did not. He even saw some soldiers and officers from his old platoon, whom he had not been in touch with for years. "This day had to come, after all," he said to himself. "If we had known that we would all eventually have to run in this way, we could have just gotten up and left on our own time – not like this, abandoning everything we have earned, this house, the fields, the whole property."
Down in Victoria Point and Rangoon, the British had withdrawn their troops to Imphal, Manipur, via Mandalay. Now, there was no one left to halt the enemy. From early morning, the procession of bullock carts and those on foot proceeded towards the makeshift road to Sumprabung. Not even a stray dog was going the other way; they were all running on ahead.
