The Bard of Blood (10 page)

‘What are you suggesting, Kabir?’

The same question lingered in Isha’s and Nihar’s minds. Veer had already understood.

‘We hurt them where they least expect it,’ Kabir said. The use of the word ‘we’ didn’t go unnoticed.

‘How?’

‘We capture Mullah Omar and claim the ten-million bounty. We expose the Pakistani hypocrisy to the world. They can’t afford to have another Abbottabad situation all over again.’

Nihar choked on his water. Isha’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. Veer smiled.

‘You’re fucking insane,’ Marri scoffed.

‘Think about it. The world will applaud the true Balochis. The ISI will have lost their main trump card. The Haqqanis will lie low for a while. The Americans will support you against Pakistan. In all likelihood, Balochistan will be on its own after that.’

Marri shook his head furiously and got up. He picked up his plate and stormed out of the room.

‘What was all that about?’ Isha asked Kabir sternly. ‘We are still trying to figure out how to get our own people back and you’re talking about abducting Mullah Omar? ‘

Kabir didn’t answer her. Marri walked back into the room.

‘I’ll be leaving for England tomorrow,’ he said, sitting down on the chair opposite Kabir. ‘Which is when you should get moving too. What you have suggested is extremely difficult, but not impossible. I will speak to my father about it.’

Kabir nodded in understanding.

‘Your father is a respected man,’ Kabir said. ‘Much of the respect he has gained is through his fight against Pakistani injustice. You can’t let that go to waste is all I’m saying.’

Kabir stood up, and on cue, so did his team. They felt like they wouldn’t need to eat for the next three days. Nusrat Marri led them to a basin, where they washed their hands.

Kabir walked back to the hall, and looked the tall Nusrat Marri in the eye.

‘You should meet Nabil once you’re in Quetta,’ Marri told him. ‘I’m sure he will help you in some way to get your friends back.’

Kabir smiled politely at him. ‘I certainly will,’ Kabir said.

Nusrat took Kabir’s hand and shook it warmly. ‘Don’t get into trouble, Kabir. We need more people like you and your friends in the world.’

‘I agree,’ Kabir smiled. ‘Think about what I’ve said.’

Marri nodded and then wished all the members of the team luck in their endeavour.

‘Oh,’ Marri said before Kabir stepped out of the house. ‘Please don’t take that red car around. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb. You can take my car instead.’

Their plan, as it stood, was to take the rest of the day off. They would set out for Quetta early the next morning. It was a twelve-hour drive, and the team wasn’t quite ready to embark on a journey that long the same day.

‘I insist you take Irfan along,’ Marri said. ‘He is well versed with the route. And it won’t hurt to have an extra pair of hands at the wheel.’

Kabir and his team agreed. They needed someone to guide them along.

Marri followed them out and pointed at a silver Toyota Land Cruiser. He walked up to it and opened the boot. Isha and Nihar gasped at what they saw. It had guns of various shapes and sizes. Kabir and Veer exchanged smiles. Guns seemed to help strengthen some bonds.

‘Trust me,’ said Marri, looking at Isha, ‘you will need them.’

3 September 2014

Gwadar, Balochistan

The team hit the sack early that night. After their meeting with Nusrat Marri, they drove back to the hotel and checked into their suite. Kabir and Isha decided to sleep in the room, and Veer and Nihar in the adjacent hall. Kabir had asked Isha if she was comfortable sharing a room with him, else he could get another one for himself. She rolled her eyes and told him not to be silly.

‘Just remember,’ she said with a friendly laugh, ‘try anything funny and you’ll find out I’m stronger than you are.’

The room was small and Kabir ordered a mattress for himself. He laid it out on the floor and lay down after changing into a white kurta, which he wore over a pair of Adidas trackpants. Isha giggled at this curious combination. Kabir just smiled back at her.

‘Why did you choose this line of work, Isha?’

She paused before responding. She climbed on to the bed and crossed her legs, looking down at Kabir. He had tried not to look into her eyes, but this time he had no choice.

‘It chose me,’ she said. ‘I had an uncle in the army. I remember spending a lot of time with him when he was home. I guess he inspired me to become what I am. He was martyred in Kargil.’

Kabir remained silent. He knew saying anything would break Isha’s stream of thought.

‘What about you, Major Anand?’

‘My father was in the air force. I lost him at a very early age,’ Kabir replied. ‘I wasn’t inclined towards the forces, though. One thing led to another and one fine day I was inducted into the Military Intelligence.’

Isha probed further. ‘Elaborate, please!’

‘Maybe another time, Isha. Maybe another time.’

‘I understand,’ Isha said. ‘There are things you may not want to talk about. Things that we all would like to keep secret, Adonis.’

Kabir was a little taken aback by the way she brought up his old code-name without a smidgeon of propriety.
Surely, she’s heard some version of the stories doing the rounds.

‘Are you hinting at my shrouded past?’ Kabir asked. ‘I will tell you all about that when the time is right. We have too much on our plate right now to bother about the past. Rest assured, it is not what you guys have been told.’

Isha leaned towards him, unwilling to press further. The lamp that lit the room dimly enhanced the colour of her curls. Her eyes, though tired from lack of sleep, still showed interest.

‘So, are you married?’

‘No.’ Kabir smiled. ‘What about you?’

‘I’m still young,’ she chuckled. Kabir laughed at her jibe. ‘But you never intended to marry?’

Kabir remained silent. His lips curled into a sad smile. She saw his deep dimples, behind his fuzzy beard, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

‘I did intend to,’ he said. ‘She was the one who forced me to teach Shakespeare. Initially, studying literature was only a hobby. A refreshing change from the gore I had witnessed and inflicted. ‘

‘And then?’

‘I woke up one morning,’ Kabir said, ‘and didn’t find her next to me any more. Not that that hadn’t happened before. But I knew that day that she was gone.’

Isha didn’t speak. He stroked his beard, still looking confused.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said finally. ‘Didn’t you ever bother finding out where she was? I mean, you’re a spy after all.’

Kabir laughed softly, and nodded.

‘As a matter of fact, I did. To get some form of closure, I did.’

‘And?’

‘I wish I hadn’t,’ he said, laughing. ‘She got married to some other guy a year later. Rich, maybe. A banker, perhaps.’

Isha raised an eyebrow at him.

‘Perhaps?’

‘Yeah, all right. A banker. But I was angry, naturally. She could’ve told me and then left. What could I have done anyway?’

‘That bitch.’ Isha smiled. She reached out and touched his shoulder. ‘If it’s any consolation, I’m sure you’re a better agent than he is a banker.’

‘The thought never crossed my mind.’ Kabir laughed. ‘But I’m certainly better-looking than him.’

‘He must be really ugly, then.’ Isha laughed. Kabir joined her.

‘Anyway, this was a while ago. I don’t think about it any more. Not much, anyway.’

He had reluctantly come to the realization that when you love someone, there may come a time when you need to let go.

Isha nodded understandingly.
Maybe that’s why he’s always brooding.

‘And now if you’re done invading my privacy, let’s catch some sleep? We need to get to Quetta tomorrow. It’s a twelve-hour journey.’

It was well past midnight. Irfan Baloch Khan, the man Nusrat Marri had assigned to the team, had told them he’d pick them up at five in the morning. They needed those few hours of sleep now.

‘Goodnight, Kabir,’ she said, smiling.

She switched off the dim light and fell asleep almost immediately. Kabir, however, stayed awake long after. Today was the first time he had opened up to someone about that aspect of his past. It was just a couple of days since he had known Isha, but she seemed like someone he didn’t mind speaking his mind to. He was beginning to like his team.

In the adjacent hall, however, Nihar was voicing his concern to Veer in a low tone.

‘Is what they say about him true?’ he asked. ‘The sketchy Adonis story?’

‘It’s not up to me to decide what is true and what isn’t.’ Veer shrugged.

3 September 2014

Pakistan

They had driven for five hours straight, taking turns at the wheel of the Toyota Land Cruiser. Irfan Baloch Khan had arrived, as promised, at five in the morning. They had had a light breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs. Kabir looked extremely alert, though his eyes were red owing to lack of sleep. He tried to take a nap in the car, but kept waking up now and again, volunteering to take over the wheel.

Veer and Nihar seemed adequately refreshed. Isha, though, was the chirpiest of the lot. She kept the driver engaged throughout with small talk. Before leaving the hotel, Irfan had insisted they all wear traditional clothes to blend in. It was rather warm and dry outside, and their clothes stuck to their bodies because of the sweat.

They had reached halfway along the 650-kilometre Makran Coastal Highway that ran parallel to the coastline of the Arabian Sea. The highway primarily connects various parts of Balochistan, linking them with Karachi on the other side. National Highway 10, the official designation, was a combination of well-paved roads and rough dirt-tracks. They had traversed most of the section that ran along the sea and would soon take a sharp left towards the heart of Balochistan. They had been checked once at a toll gate, but had no difficulty getting past. The guard looked into the car, eyeballed Isha for a bit, assumed they were local Balochis and let them pass.

‘I can take over now, Irfanbhai. You’ve been driving for a while.’

Irfan Baloch Khan parked the car on the shoulder, and Veer took his place at the wheel. Khan sat in the third row of the SUV, along with Nihar, rubbing his eyes. Nihar was playing a game on his iPad. Khan looked interestedly at it. He had seen one of those with Nawabzada Marri, but had never had the chance to touch one. Nihar looked at him and smiled.

‘It is like a computer,’ he explained. ‘Here, see this. You can even watch movies. You like movies?’

Khan grinned and exclaimed he did. Kabir looked on, out of the window. His throat had begun to ache because of the cold. Isha had headphones plugged in, listening to something with her eyes shut. Veer was clocking over a 110, and at the pace they were going, they were likely to make it within twelve hours. He whistled lightly to himself.

‘You guys mind if I put the radio on?’

‘Go ahead,’ Kabir said. Veer fidgeted with the deck, and after a while he put on some local Afghani music and hummed along. Kabir and Isha shot confused looks at each other. Nihar looked rather surprised. And then they all realized: Veer was more Pashtun than Indian now.

‘Here, take my iPod,’ Isha said, handing the gadget over to Veer. ‘Plug it in, so we can play some music we all can appreciate.’

She went on to play an album by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Except Irfan Baloch Khan, who was busy watching a Bollywood movie on Nihar’s iPad, all of them were enchanted by the singer’s majestic voice. Kabir watched Isha sway her head delicately to the rhythm from the corner of his eye.

‘In another four hours,’ Veer said as he parked the car so that Kabir could take on as driver, ‘we should be at Kalat. Just follow the road.’

Kabir enjoyed driving on these roads that ascended in height. He had always admired the stark natural beauty of the rugged terrain of Balochistan. The large mountains, the pristine lakes, the wild Zayaki Jangal bypass.

A little while later, Kabir pulled up near a little dhaba.

‘This is a largely Shia Hazara area. They are the local Balochis,’ Khan informed the team as they walked into the little shanty. They were welcomed by three Hazara men, with almost indistinguishable Mongolian features. The oldest was probably the grandfather of the youngest. He patted the boy lovingly on his back, and nudged him forward to take the order.

Khan spoke to them in their native language, ordering large glasses of buttermilk. After they had their salty but surprisingly refreshing drink, they left the dhaba, leaving a large tip for the man.

‘I will drive now,’ Khan said. ‘We are likely to face a few checkpoints here. It’s better if they interact with me.’

The car had been stopped at a checkpoint before Kalat. Three heavyset guards with rifles walked towards them. One heavily moustached guard knocked at Khan’s tinted window, which he rolled down. He looked into the car, at all the passengers. He smiled sickly at Isha, exposing a yellow set of teeth.
These Balochis are bastards, but their women are so pretty
.

‘What is the purpose of your visit to Kalat?’

‘None of your business,’ Khan replied curtly.

The man looked enraged. ‘How dare you talk to me like that, you fucking Balochi!’

‘Calm down, sir. We are here merely as visitors,’ Kabir intervened. ‘We have no real agenda. I apologize for my man’s insolent behaviour.’

Kabir pulled out a few Pakistani notes and pressed them into the guard’s hand, who nodded and motioned the car ahead.

‘What the hell was that, Khan?’ Kabir frowned.

‘We should never show we fear them,’ Khan spat out. ‘Did you see how he was looking at the lady? These guys are rapists. They have been known to rape Balochi women. It infuriates me.’

Nihar looked warily over his shoulder at the guards. They were still looking at the vehicle, speaking into a walkie-talkie. It looked suspicious, but he chose not to say anything about it. They had passed that hurdle anyway. The highway continued for a short while before breaking into a fork. Khan took a left and slowed down a bit. The road was narrow and dusty. And then he saw something.

‘Hell!’ he exclaimed. ‘They are following us.’

Kabir and his team turned abruptly and looked. There were two SUVs following them. Veer reached for the bag with the weapons. There were at least six firearms. He picked up a Glock pistol and passed it to Kabir. Kabir always insisted on a pistol. The Glock was his favourite. It was light and discharged bullets without too much of a delay. Moreover, it was highly accurate, if the shooter was skilled enough. Veer picked up an MG18 light machine gun for himself. Khan stepped on the gas. Swirls of dust made it difficult to see what was directly ahead of him.

Isha picked up an SAF Carbine sub-machine gun and loaded it. She passed it to Nihar, who seemed rather frightened. He wasn’t ready to fire a gun anywhere else other than target practice. Not yet, anyway. He held it reluctantly. Isha picked up another SAF Carbine for herself.

‘There is one for you as well, Khan!’ she said. ‘If the need arises . . .’

The rest of her sentence was drowned in a deafening noise. The car was thrown off its wheels. Another Pakistani car, waiting ahead down the road, had rammed into them. The Toyota turned upside down. The glass shattered. Everyone closed their eyes, to prevent the shards from entering. They were thrown off their seats. Kabir held his head in his hands, protecting it from damage, as he had been taught in training many years ago. After somersaulting twice, the car came to a halt upside down.