the others joined him. Rhamon sang too, his voice rising clear and sweet above the men's deeper ones. Soon the night air was throbbing with the music. Then with his hands Subro began to beat the rhythm of the song on the side of the boat. Another boatman drummed on his paddle laid across his knees.
Sometimes their voices swelled to great shouts of joy. Then the boat sped swiftly through the water from the force of their strokes. But sometimes their song faded to a whisper of sadness and there were tears in their singing. Then the boat glided slowly through the darkness.
That evening the men gathered on Subro's little houseboat to sing together. They squatted on the floor in a circle and each held something to make music—a big red clay pot, a bell or a pair of homemade clappers. Ibrahim started a song. The others joined in, swaying from side to side. Then they began to ring the bells, clap the clappers, and beat on the pots.
Ramzana hit the open top of his pot with the
