Authors: AJAY
Juhi and the Ambassador
Juhi was now
very involved with her 'Billion Tree Campaign' and interactions between father and daughter were few and far between. When Juhi came home, she found her father still away and at dawn when she left for work, the Ambassador would be asleep.
One day, she decided to talk to her father and waited for him to come home. She heard the Ambassador's footsteps approaching his bedroom. She waited for a while and then knocked at the door.
The Ambassador was surprised, "Are you still awake?"
"Yes, dad."
"Is something bothering you?"
Juhi nodded and the Ambassador waited. He loosened his tie and smiled, "Well my sweet little pie, tell me where are you planting trees these days?"
"Near Commonwealth Games Village. But I want to go to the Himalayan region."
"Is your NGO doing something there?"
"No. They are not interested in the Himalayas. So, I need your help."
The Ambassador pondered for a long time. "I'll talk to the Director General of the Indian Council of Forest Research and Education in Dehradun. Let me see if he can be of any help."The Ambassador stood up and came close to Juhi, "What else is troubling you, my sweet little girl?"
"Bless me for..."
"For what?"The Ambassador was slightly uncomfortable. He could see what was coming.
"Will you please contact the Indian High Commissioner in Pakistan?"
"So, it's that Aban fellow. Just wait for a few days. This gentleman will come up with something new on Jihad ideology."
"The heart knows nothing of ideology."
"I can't help you, Juhi. I've shown you the articles he has published in Pakistani newspapers. Watch his TV interviews. I have the tapes. You know as well as I do that he has become a Jihadist. He is writing against our government. My latest information says that he met Hafiz Saeed, the mastermind of the Mumbai attacks. So, forget him. I can't send my daughter to Pakistan to become the life partner of someone working against my own country. It will be as good as becoming a traitor myself and throwing you to a pack of hungry hyenas. "
"I know him, dad. Try to understand. He is not what everybody else or you think he is."Juhi turned back, intending to leave. "
The heart has reason that reason does not understand."
"Wait, Juhi."The Ambassador reached his cupboard and pulled out a folder. He handed it over to his daughter. "Then read this dossier of R&AW. It is a two-hundred page account of this gentleman."
Juhi took the paper and went to her room. She opened the dossier. Her hands started to shake when she saw the chapter titled''Interpol Blue Alert on Aban Malik'
Rawalkot-Poonch Road
The Hummer reached the Saidu Sharif Airport. The passengers were boarding the last flight to Islamabad. In fifteen minutes, the aircraft took off. Aban and his uncle waited at the airport for another half-an-hour. "Now power on your cell phone, Aban and talk to Hafiz Saeed and tell him that you missed the flight."
Aban did so and Hafiz Saeed told him to travel by road and reach Lahore as quickly as possible.
"That's great. It gives us time to plan our things better. Now listen, we'll have to reach the Pakistan-India border before sunrise."
"Are you coming with me,
Chacha Jaan
?"Aban was surprised.
"I'll see you off at the border. I have a few friends among the Pakistani Rangers. I've already talked to them. Now you tell Siddhartha Rana to make some arrangements on the Indian side."
"Which place should I say?"
"The Poonch border. Tell him that we'll take the Rawalkot-Poonch road."
"That is a long distance. Isn't it? Why can't we take the Muzaffarabad-Srinagar highway? We can reach the border in less than seven hours."
"Try to understand. This is a busy road with many check posts on both sides of the border. The Rangers will always be suspicious of a young boy in western clothes."
Aban laughed, "Oh!
Chacha Jaan
, look at our young boys. They all are lookalikes of me. Hardly anybody wears a beard and
Shalwar Qameez
in our metropolis."
"But very few look like Brits with an American accent. Moreover, tourists are not allowed in the buffer zone between
Azad Kashmir
and the Indian part of Kashmir. I have lived like a wanderer. I know every nook and cranny of these places. Rawalkot-Poonch road is a safer bet. Before 1947, a nine-seater bus travelled on this road. Each passenger was allowed to carry fifty kg. of goods. Due to partition, this road was closed to traffic. Many generations, who lived together for ages, suddenly could not bear to look at each other. This sector was heavily affected in the 1971 War. Not only were roads and bridges damaged, but also anti-tank mines and landmines were planted everywhere on both the sides. Since the last thirty-nine years, no civilian has ever traveled on that LOC road."
"How will we travel then?"
"My dear Aban, the area in Poonch has many rivers, thick forests and small dirt roads. We'll walk in the darkness."
"What about the landmines?"
"Just pray to Allah."
David Coleman Headley
Siddhartha got a
call from Robert McLean, "Hi Sid, the FBI has arrested a man called David Coleman Headley aka Daood Sayed Gilani at the Chicago O'Hare International Airport when he was to board a Pakistan bound flight. He seems to be a double agent. Although, he was working as an informant of the Drug Enforcement Administration, it seems he was more interested in passing all vital information to the Pakistani LeT and the ISI. He was even trained by LeT a few years back."
"Great news, Bob. The mysterious cell phone number 0321-5023113 is now somewhat resolved."
"Do you have a lead on this number?"
"Oh! Yes. It seems Imran Shah Malik and the LeT had planned something big. They and a few others including Indians were at some place in the Hindukush Mountain, near Chitral on 14
th
March 2007. I'm trying to get to the bottom of it. Anyway, you have been of great help, Bob."
"My pleasure, Sid. By the way, where is your boy?"
"Who?"
"Aban Malik?"
To Poonch
The drive along
the Peshawar-Islamabad motorway was smooth. Aban and his uncle stopped at a roadside motel at a small place in Dhowk Manat for dinner. Aban's uncle spoke to a few truck drivers and found out that one of them was driving to Lahore.
"Give me your cell phone."He demanded of Aban.
"Why,
Chacha Jaan
?"
"You are too precious for Hafiz Saeed. He must be definitely tracking your cell phone. Let him find it tomorrow morning in some truck depot of Lahore."
Aban smiled. "Let's enjoy the delicious Peshawari food. Peshawari mutton and biryani are the best in the world."
Instead of driving southwards to Lahore, their journey began towards the east when the Hummer sped on Grand Trunk Road after crossing the rotary bridge at Burhan interchange. After a few kilometres, once again it turned left to accelerate onto N35, the Karakoram Highway Pass. Aban dozed off and woke up with a start when the vehicle came to a sudden halt at a small rapid. "There is no road ahead,
Chacha Jaan
."
"We left the main road long back and have travelled on dusty tracks. We are near Salotri. The Pakistan-India border at Chakan-da-Bagh is less than two miles from here."
"Thank God. We didn't step on a landmine."
"It starts from here, Aban. Any wrong step that you take from here will blow you up and your plans. And I'm not talking about the landmine beneath your feet. You will face unforeseen challenges in the unknown land into which you are about to step in."
"What's that fire?"Aban pointed his hand towards a bush fire, quickly spreading towards the mountain forest.
"The Pakistani Rangers. They have lit up a small bonfire to engage their Indian counterpart, the BSF, who will be busy controlling it for hours. You swim across the Poonch River. It is safe as no one can plant a landmine in the river. Even if a fool does so, the river erodes everything under her bed and deposits it at some faraway place. Climb over that hill. That's safe too. No one plants landmines there because the army will always choose to march through the valley, when it is there, instead of the rugged mountain route. Once you reach the other side of the foothill, you will be in India.
Khuda Hafiz
, Aban. May
Allah
be with you and protect you from harm."
"
Shukriya
for all that you have done for me,
Chacha Jaan
. Do convey my love and regards to
Ammi. Khuda Hafiz
."
To Dehradun
Juhi went to
the Old Delhi Railway Station to board the Mussoorie Express for Dehradun to see the Director General. Lost in her thoughts, she waited for the train to pull up at the platform. Suddenly, a throng of beggars materialized in front of her. Scrawny little girls, who looked like they had not bathed for ages, crowded around her with extended palms, beseeching her for alms in their nasal tones. At first Juhi tried to sidetrack them, but the crowd of urchins was big and persistent. They ran on nimble feet and crowded around her once again with renewed, higher pitched voices begging her to give them 'something'.
Juhi fumbled in the purse for coins, trying hard to keep away from one girl, who had a little brother astride her hip, and was alternately scratching her head behind her ears and extending the same palm to receive. When Juhi could not find any change, she tried to cut corners by slipping into one of the phone booths, as the gathering of the humming street kids chided her, saying she had enough money to travel in the comfort of an air-conditioned first class, but had no money to spare for the poor.
A red-faced Juhi quickly hurried behind the doors of the comforting phone booth. She rang up Aban's number. Someone else answered the phone, "Who are you?"
"Juhi."
"Aha! Juhi Shergill, the daughter of the Ambassador."
"Yeah."
"Where is Aban?"
"I don't know."Juhi was surprised, "This is Aban's number. Isn't it? Please ask him to call me."
"That son of a bitch has not only abandoned you, but also ditched us."
"Who are you?"Juhi was getting nervous.
"Forget about us. But if you happen to contact him, tell him that we found his cell phone from the truck. He'll know who we are and very soon we will know where he is. Tell the traitor that he may choose to hide anywhere in this world, we'll surely find him. That's our promise.
Khuda Hafiz
,
Mohtarma
."
Delhi
"I hope your
journey from Uri to Delhi was comfortable,"Siddhartha Rana smiled.
"Thank you. That's very welcoming. The Indian Army officers were very courteous."
"My pleasure, Aban, and I've wonderful news for you."
"What's up?"
"Juhi was to leave New Delhi for Dehradun. Would you like to meet her?"
"Great. But how do you know about her whereabouts? Are you tracking her?"
"Absolutely not. Why should we? It was just a chance happening. In fact, we were tracking your call for your safety. Juhi called you up on your cell phone and had an interesting conversation with Hafiz Saeed's men,"Siddhartha said, and pressed the button of the recorder.
"
That son of a bitch has not only abandoned you, but also ditched us
."
"The damn terrorist dares to call me a son of a bitch,"whispered Aban angrily. "I'll find out whatever you all have planned, Mr. Hafiz Saeed."Aban then turned to Siddhartha, "Where do I need to go to see Juhi?"
Siddhartha smiled, "You don't need to go anywhere. She is waiting for you in the adjacent room."
Hindu Mythology
Ten hardcore Jihadists,
ever willing to sacrifice themselves for the cause of ideology, assembled daily at Jamia al-Qadsia mosque to observe certain rituals. This had been happening for the last fortnight. Each evening, they offered
Namaz
and then whipped themselves in repentance till blood oozed out from their bodies. They repeated before the Qazi the same lines every day, "I, in the name of Muhammad, who will show us the way to carry out Jihad and in that of Allah, who will open the doors of heaven, will carry out the duty assigned to me. Forgive me for the crimes that I have committed, Oh Allah! by learning the Kafir's mythology and by learning to praise the gods of the infidels, the Hindus."
After this catharsis, they assembled in a room full of pictures of Hindu mythological gods and goddesses. Tales of Rama, Vishnu, Brahma, Shiva and Ganesha and every other god or goddess that they could think of was narrated to them.
The teacher was strict since he knew that he could not take any chances. He had to prove his worth to Hafiz Saeed. So, his disciples had not only to pass the test, but also show that they had a much better understanding of Hindu culture than the average
Hindustāni
. Time was short as he had to produce results within three months.
His students needed to learn by heart: many Sanskrit verses, the methods of offering prayers to Hindu gods and goddess,
bhajans, kirtans
, other rituals, and most importantly, the Hindu way of life.
How to tie the
dhoti
and wear the
angavastram
were clearly the easiest and each one of them learnt it on the first day of training. Learning Hindi was not tough either since these Punjabi youths could all speak good Urdu and had grown up watching Bollywood movies.
The tougher parts were yet to come. Pronouncing Hindi words with the same nuance as that of the Hindu radicals was not easy. The toughest bit was, however, to speak the language of hatred that the Hindu radicals speak.