BLOWBACK

by Deva, Mukul

  ‘I’m aware of that, Rao,’ the PM said wearily. ‘Tell us what we can do.’

  ‘Well, sir.’ Rao took a deep breath. ‘Military operations must always be conducted speedily to ensure the objective is attained in the shortest possible time with the least possible resources. Delhi must acknowledge that Pakistan is a failed state and talking peace with it will just not work.’

  ‘What nonsense!’ the external affairs minister exploded.

  ‘I agree with Rao,’ Narayan intervened. ‘We must understand that in Pakistan the power and pervasiveness of the army and the ISI is built on hostility with India and their success in anti-India operations. Why will they ever give it up?’

  ‘Pakistan is more than just an army and the ISI. What about civil society?’

  ‘Well, as far as that goes, sir, the Taliban is not the cause, it is in some measure the result of the talibanization of Pakistan’s society,’ Rao explained. ‘In 1947 there were less than 250 madrassas in Pakistan. At the end of last year there were 23,000 and they churn out 1.2 to 1.7 million students annually.’

  ‘So what?’ the external affairs minister said. ‘Madrassas need not impart only fundamentalism. Sometimes they are required to fill the gap in the absence of state schools.’

  ‘Well, in the case of Pakistan, the government’s failure to invest in education has been systematically exploited by the Wahhabis, who use Saudi-supplied petro-dollars to control these madrassas. They’ve been subverting entire generations of children and putting them firmly on the path of the jihad. Look at this.’ Rao switched on his laptop and opened a slide. The words scrolled down: Right from kindergarten, when a child is just five or six years old, he shall be judged by the fervour with which he gives speeches on jihad and shahadat.

  ‘These instructions have been issued by the Central School of Secondary and Primary Education in Pakistan,’ Rao continued. ‘This, sir, is the society you wish to engage with diplomatically.’

  ‘So you’re saying that diplomacy is not a solution?’

  ‘Yes, sir. First, there’s the problem of who we should talk to; the civilian government has no real say in anything and the army has its own axe to grind. To my mind, the only way we can win peace is by taking the battle deep into the Pakistani hinterland.

  ‘To begin with, sir, we need to declare Pakistan a terror state and snap all diplomatic, commercial, sport and cultural links with it. All planes, trains and buses should be stopped and overflight permissions withdrawn. We must also renegotiate treaties like the Indus water treaty and install new waterflow control procedures.’

  ‘Do you have any idea of the effort it took to negotiate these treaties?’ the external affairs minister asked irritably.

  ‘I think so, sir. I also know for a fact that most of these treaties favour Pakistan over India.’

  ‘What nonsense, Rao! Are you saying they were fools, the people who negotiated these treaties... or are you accusing them of consorting with the enemy?’

  ‘Neither, sir. We’ve been so busy trying to prove we are not the neighbourhood bully and are serious about the peace process, we’ve bent over backwards to give them more than their fair share. They, on the other hand, have always taken this kindness to be our weakness.’

  ‘I’m so glad you’re not a diplomat, Rao,’ the external affairs minister remarked.

  ‘Me too, sir,’ Rao replied evenly. He knew he had crossed the line and focused on hammering out his final points with clarity. ‘We must immediately seal the Indo-Nepal and Indo-Bangladesh borders. These open borders help no one but the ISI. India has gone out of its way to woo Nepal and Bangladesh while Pakistan takes advantage of the situation.’

  ‘Go ahead, Rao,’ the PM said thoughtfully.

  ‘Sir, Pakistan has to be kept busy with its own problems so it can’t inflict so many on us. That’s why we must offer troops to the International Security Assistance Force in Afghanistan and help them finish off the Taliban and Al Qaeda. The presence of Indian troops in Afghanistan will prevent attacks like the one on our Kabul embassy and it will force Pakistan to deploy troops on that frontier, thus reducing the pressure on the Indian borders and diluting their focus on Kashmir.’

  ‘Have you gone crazy, Rao?’ the defence minister exclaimed. ‘How do you think the Indian Muslims will react to our sending forces to Afghanistan?’

  ‘There may be an outcry at first, but they will understand when they start to see some measure of peace return to India.’

  ‘Easy for you to say, Rao, you don’t have to stand for elections.’

  ‘No, sir, I don’t. But the fact is that until we stop playing vote bank politics and get down to the business of serious governance, we can’t get off the road to eventual disintegration.’

  ‘So you think we should just pull the plug on Pakistan...’

  ‘Of course! It’s common sense. Wars are not fought half-heartedly or with minimal force; every possible lever must be employed to break the enemy’s will and capability to fight. Unless India’s political leadership has clarity and determination, we’ll always remain a soft state and continue to bleed… the way we’ve been bleeding for the past three decades.’

  There was an immediate outbreak of angry comments and expletives. The PM stood up and took charge. ‘Gentlemen, please. We asked him for solutions. We may or may not like them, and I certainly don’t find a lot of what he said very palatable, but it’s only fair that we hear him out.’ He turned to Rao. ‘All right, so that’s what the offensive part of India’s strategy should be. What about the defensive measures you mentioned?’

  ‘The defensive strategy has to be two-pronged, sir. First, we must take measures that make it hard for the enemy to strike. Second, our security forces must be geared to respond to attacks swiftly and our legal system should be able to punish those who are found guilty. Justice must be swift and the punishment harsh.’

  The PM nodded. ‘And how do you think we should go about making India a hard target so that terrorists are unable to operate here so freely?’

  ‘To begin with, sir, all Indian nationals must be issued with biometric photo identification.’

  ‘Biometric photo identification?’ the home minister repeated in surprise. ‘Do you have any idea what that will cost us?’

  Rao appeared unruffled. ‘It will certainly cost a bomb, but in the long run it will cost a lot less than the damage the terrorists inflict on us. In any case, it’s a matter of time before such measures become unavoidable.’

  ‘And just how will it prevent terror attacks?’ the home minister persisted.

  ‘Not directly, sir, but it will form the bedrock of a system that will make it much harder for terrorists to operate.’

  ‘Explain that, Rao,’ the PM said, sitting down again.

  ‘We must ensure that biometric identification is mandatory for all activities, commercial and otherwise. Whether a person wants a college admission or a library membership, whether he wants to rent an apartment or buy a vehicle – any vehicle, even a bicycle – or purchase a telephone or mobile connection, buy or sell property, start a business, apply for a passport, book a room in a hotel or a guesthouse, even use a cybercafé, he has to first produce his national identity card. That way, we can keep tabs on anyone and also track the movement of dangerous goods. It will also enhance our post-incident investigation capability considerably and make it easier to track down the culprits much faster.’

  ‘I still don’t see how it can be justified,’ the home minister protested again.

  ‘Neither would a lot of other politicians, my friend,’ the PM retorted, ‘because it would also cut down on any kind of wrongful voting.’

  ‘Oh yes, sir.’ There was a hint of a smile on Rao’s face. ‘You can rest assured that a lot of illegal immigrants are going to get weeded out. We’ll see huge changes taking place in many constituencies, especially in areas where so many Bangladeshis have just flooded in and are passing themselves off as Indian nationals…’ Rao’s voice trailed off.<
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  ‘You seem to have a special problem with Bangladeshis, Rao?’

  ‘I have a problem with anyone who is in India illegally, sir,’ Rao replied calmly, too old a hand to be provoked. ‘The only reason I specifically mentioned Bangladeshis is because we all know that these days the ISI is using some of them to carry out acts of terror in India.’

  Narayan spoke up then. ‘We need to strengthen our intelligence efforts.’

  ‘Isn’t that why we set up the National Intelligence Command, Rao?’

  ‘The NIC has shown results even in the short time it has been in existence. We’ve broken at least four major terror modules in the past few months,’ Rao assented, ‘not to mention several dozen potential strikes that we managed to blunt before they even got off the ground. But there is a lot more to be done. We need to give more muscle to our intelligence agencies and deploy more resources, both human and technical.’

  ‘I agree with Rao,’ Narayan said. ‘Isn’t it surprising that for a country with a population of almost 1.2 billion we barely have 3,500 people in the IB? For many years now they’ve been asking for more and better quality people, but the sanctions just don’t seem to come.’

  ‘There you are!’ Rao shrugged. ‘The Godbole Task Force set up after the Kargil intrusion in 2000 had made some very relevant observations regarding the quantity and quality of intelligence personnel. We need to start implementing these reforms instead of debating them endlessly.’

  ‘That’s what we’re working on right now,’ the home minister said curtly. ‘Is there anything else you have to suggest?’

  ‘Actually, yes,’ Rao continued. ‘Our front line against terror is the policeman on the street. We need to modernize our police forces and ensure they are better trained, equipped and motivated than the terrorists they have to combat. Right now we have archaic 303 rifles facing up against AK-74s. We have scarcely functional radio sets trying to match up to satellite phones. That must change. We have even reduced the mandatory educational requirement for constables from class ten to class eight, and there’s barely any training – so how can we expect them to stand up to well-trained and highly motivated terrorists?’

  ‘Who else will join, considering the service conditions and the salaries we pay them?’

  ‘Very true, sir, and this is yet another anomaly we need to redress. The police and the defence services are our weapons of first and last resort against the enemy. India has to spend more money and ensure it gets the best possible people for these jobs. Crude as it may sound, only those interested in making a fast buck are keen on the police and those who join the defence services do so because they don’t have other options. And a first-class counter-terror operation cannot be fought by a third-class law and order machinery.’

  ‘Go on, Rao,’ the PM said. ‘What else?’

  ‘Well, sir, we should also ban organizations that are funded by organizations that are suspect. We must identify and shut down cash flow and support to terror groups by cracking down on hawala operators and others who are known to support terrorist activities. If we cut off their cash flow, we’ll seriously restrict their ability to function.’

  ‘All this is not going to be easy to put in place, Rao.’

  ‘No, sir, it won’t be easy at all. In fact, it will require tremendous political will and be a slow and continuous process, but the sooner we begin, the better. And we can’t do this alone. We must mobilize citizen action groups and strengthen resident welfare associations and local market associations, for instance, to ensure that strangers moving into a colony are immediately registered with the local police station. They will also help to make sure that all domestic help and staff hired in their areas are subjected to security scrutiny. We can even use citizen support groups to enhance surveillance of common areas, parks and markets. This will get people more proactively involved in the war on terror.’

  ‘Don’t you think it will open a Pandora’s box and just add to the confusion?’ The home minister sounded unconvinced. ‘Some people might get high-handed and take the law in their hands.’

  ‘I am sure there will be some incidents,’ Rao conceded, ‘at least in the initial stages, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try it. Can you imagine the pressure on a terrorist if he knows that the local RWA will scrutinize him before he can even lease a room? It will no longer be as simple as conning a gullible landlord with false documents.’

  ‘And everyone will be so much more careful before they give out rooms,’ Narayan said.

  ‘And it doesn’t end there,’ Rao added. ‘We have to enhance technical surveillance by deploying more cameras in marketplaces, places of worship, railway stations, airports, sensitive installations and monuments. We must also plan to cover major traffic junctions and bottlenecks as and when the resources become available.

  ‘If we network these cameras and back them up with advanced facial recognition software, we can make life hell not just for terrorists but also for criminals of all sorts. They’ll think ten times before they step out anywhere.’

  ‘This would be hugely expensive, don’t you think?’ the PM asked, almost gently.

  ‘Expensive it will be,’ Rao agreed, ‘but if we can find the money to build huge parks and life-sized statues of irrelevant politicians, I am sure we can find the money for such a vital project that impacts national security. I think we could easily find the funds if we focused on getting back the money parked in tax havens overseas.

  ‘As for doability, I think, sir, that we underestimate ourselves as a nation. Projects such as these have been structured and organized by people of Indian origin the world over. I am sure that once we find the political will, we’ll find the means to make it happen.’

  ‘So you want the government to play Big Brother?’

  ‘I believe most Indians would find it a small price to pay for knowing that their families can walk the streets without the fear of being ripped apart by bombs… and for the consolation of knowing that if and when something like that does happen, the guilty will be speedily brought to book. Don’t you think so?’

  The discussion windmilled on, slowly but surely growing more focused as the hours fled by. What the final outcome of this meeting would be only time would tell, but at least things had begun to move. And a few things had been said that needed to be said, to the one person who might be able to do something about them.

  TEN

  The loud voices brought Iqbal awake with a start.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he whispered to Tanaz, who was already awake.

  ‘I’m not sure. It sounds like security forces.’

  ‘Shit!’ Iqbal’s heart began to beat faster. ‘Let me check.’

  ‘No! Don’t go out!’

  ‘Don’t worry, Tanaz! I’m not going to. We can listen from there.’ He gestured at the window.

  Just as suddenly as they had started, the voices broke off. They heard the squeal of tyres as an unseen vehicle roared to life and raced away. They waited for a few moments; when they couldn’t hear anything more, they decided to venture out.

  The compound was in an uproar. ‘What happened?’ Iqbal asked a man who was stuffing things into a rucksack as he hurried past.

  ‘The fucking ISI is what happened!’ he said over his shoulder without breaking stride. Iqbal hurried after him.

  ‘The ISI? What do they want? I thought this was their compound.’

  ‘It is! They came to tell us that an army patrol is approaching, to encircle the compound. Apparently, some more jihadi hides have to be sacrificed to the goras,’ the man snapped. ‘The bastards know there are no biggies here, just us street soldiers. They’ll take us into custody… just so those gora bastards can be told that the war on terror is going full steam ahead. In return, those white sons of bitches will throw some more dollars at our great, fearless leaders.’

  ‘So what do we do now? Where is everybody going?’

  ‘We get our asses out of here, that’s what we do, miyan. As far from here as po
ssible.’ The man finished strapping up his rucksack and shrugged it over his shoulder as he gestured to someone across the compound. ‘Come on, move it, you morons. They’ll be here any moment now.’ He turned to Iqbal. ‘I suggest you get your butt out of here, unless you want to end up as jailbait.’ He walked away, talking in rapid tones to two others who had joined him. He was a dozen yards away when he looked back over his shoulder and yelled at Iqbal, ‘And don’t trust anyone… not for a moment.’ And then he was gone.

  Iqbal was stunned. The past few weeks of inactivity had dulled his reflexes and he found himself unwilling to leave the place where he’d spent some of the most peaceful moments of his life. The more practical Tanaz was quicker to respond. He felt her shove a small duffel bag into his hands. ‘Come on, Iqbal,’ she hissed at him urgently. ‘Let’s go! That way!’

  Iqbal came back to reality with a start. ‘Let’s head for the town.’

  ‘Yes, but we’ll get out that way, then circle around to Faisalabad from the other side. It should be safer.’ She started to stride away and Iqbal followed without any hesitation.

  They were about two kilometres away when they saw the clouds of dust converging on the compound they had just left. Dozens of vehicles could be seen racing in from every direction.

  It was late evening when the weary couple finally found themselves on the outskirts of Faisalabad.

  ‘We need to get to a phone and call in,’ Iqbal said.

  ‘How do you plan to do that? We don’t have a paisa on us.’

  ‘Let’s fix that,’ Iqbal said thoughtfully. He steered her towards a dimly lit street and they stood together in the shadows, at the mouth of one of the alleys branching out from it.

  The man who rode up the street on a flashy new motorcycle had the clothes and demeanour of a small-town trader. Tanaz emerged from the alley and waved at him till he slowed to a halt at the entrance to the alley. Tanaz stepped up to him, a piece of paper visible in her hand.

  ‘Excuse me, bhaijaan. Can you help me…’ The man didn’t even notice Iqbal come up to him on silent feet. By the time he felt Iqbal’s presence, it was too late; the wooden slat, which Iqbal had picked up in the alley, had slammed down on his head. Tanaz caught the motorcycle by its handlebars as the man fell unconscious. Iqbal dropped his weapon and wheeled the bike into the alley with its occupant still slumped on it. Turning the engine off, he lowered the bike to the ground and quickly went through the man’s pockets. With a satisfied grunt, he extracted a wallet, then removed the man’s wristwatch and also the gold chain that hung heavy around his neck.