“But would it be possible to carry out the attack, because the level of security will be exceedingly high? Zia queried. “Though I must add that no level of security can be foolproof.”
“You’re right Maulvi sahib. Everyone going to the mosque will be thoroughly scanned so it will be well-neigh possible for the suicide bomber to make it. But, as always, some people will be loosely searched. I mean those who would be on duty there and these include media persons,” Dr Junaid explained.
“You mean to say that it will be less difficult for a journalist to carry out the attack on the Eid congregation.”
“Yes indeed.”
“But which journalist is brave and committed enough to carry out this noble act,” Maulvi Zia queried and then cast a long glance at Ali.
“I’ll do so,” Ali offered himself. “There’s no meaning and purpose in my life other than that you have given me. I’m completely alone. No mother, no father, no brother, no sister, no wife, no children, no friend, no relative, no roots, no identity. If I can be of any service to a great cause, I’ll feel my life hasn’t gone in vain.”
“We are your family and you are like a son to me. Nothing can make a man happier than the feeling that his son is going to lay down his life in the way of God. There can’t be a nobler death than that of a martyr,” Maulvi Zia remarked in a voice choked with emotions.
“So it’s settled that Ali will blast himself at the Eid congregation in the Royal Mosque. I’ll work out the details later,” Dr Junaid added.
“It was easier than we expected, Babu Javed remarked after Ali and Dr Junaid had left.”
“When a person is in our net, he can’t escape,” Maulvi Zia replied with a malignant smile. “This also takes care of your problem.”
“Yes indeed. My daughter is mad after him and as long as he’s alive, she’ll not have her peace of mind. Her marriage broke down only because of him,” Babu Javed said.
Chapter 44
“I’m really proud of you,” Dr Junaid said to Ali on their way back. “You will be remembered as a great soldier of our cause.”
Ali remained silent.
“Tell me anything I can do for you?”
“I’m almost at the end of my life. I don’t need anything. But there’s one question that has troubled me all my life. I want your answer to this question and I hope I’ll get a frank answer,” Ali returned.
“I appreciate your curiosity. What’s your question?”
“Is there God?”
“I’ll answer your question when we get back home.”
On reaching home, Dr Junaid lit a cigarette and also offered Ali one.
“As in your case, this question has also troubled me a lot,” he began. “Like you, I have oscillated between belief and doubt, faith and skepticism. The conclusion that I have reached is that in essence man-God relationship is subjective rather than objective, emotional rather than rational. When you believe in God, you believe in someone you have never seen and will never see. The belief in the unseen and the unknown can never be based on rational or empirical considerations. You can’t establish the existence of God on the ground that since the world has a purpose, God must exist or that there must be a creator to account for the existence of the world, because there’s no logical necessity that the world must have a purpose or a creator. Belief in God is then purely a matter of inner feeling. Just as you don’t desire a thing because it’s rational. On the contrary, you come up with reasons to justify your desires. By the same token, if you believe in God, you come up with all the reasons to justify your belief; and if you don’t believe in God, you have several reasons in support of your agnosticism or atheism as the case may be.”
“This stuff is very familiar to me. But you haven’t answered my question, sir. Do you believe in God?”
“Why should it matter to you whether I believe in God or not? It’s just a personal relationship much like whether I love someone or not. Yes, at times I’m an atheist, at times an agnostic and at times a staunch believer. For me belief in God is just a state of mind, which goes on changing,” Dr Junaid replied.
“One last question before I say good-bye to you. Do you think what I’m going to do is the right thing?” Ali asked looking deeply into his mentor.
“Yes. You must show to the world that you’re not a non-entity or an insignificant being and that your will and your action matter.”
One day before Eid, Ali’s editor called him and asked him to cover the Eid congregation in the Royal Mosque.
“It’s a very important event because the prime minister will be offering his prayers. Generally we assign such events to senior reporters but I have full confidence in you,” he told Ali.
On the Eid day Ali woke up at dawn and after he had washed himself and dressed went down. A van was waiting for him. He got into the vehicle and was taken to a house outside the city. There he was given the suicide jacket. While in the academy, he had been taught how to use the suicide jacket. However, the man who handed him over the jacket also demonstrated how to use that. At eight in the morning, he was driven near the Royal Mosque. The security was high because of the prime minister’s arrival. However, since Ali was wearing the press card, he wasn’t searched. He went to the place reserved for journalists. The prime minister arrived and was straightaway escorted to the prayer hall.
“Should I blast myself?” Ali murmured to himself. “Yes I should. Why does a person live? Either because he loves life or fears death. Do I love life? One loves life when it’s worth living. What’s in my life that should make it worth living and worth loving? Failures and disappointments, dejections and disillusionments, emptiness and hollowness. All along I have lived on wrong premises and all along I have been taken for a ride. The people I loved and trusted used, abused, duped and ditched me. Who should I live for? I’m completely alone.
“Should I fear death? Why? Death will put an end to all that I have. And what I have? Nothing a person should be proud of or even satisfied with. My life has had no meaning, no purpose. Only in death it can assume any significance.
“Ok I have been treated badly and unfairly and life to me is no more than a futile passion. It had better come to an end. But why shouldn’t I put an end to my life only? Why should I kill scores of other people? These people haven’t wronged me and I have nothing against them. To me, they are all innocent and taking one innocent life amounts to killing the entire humanity. No, I must not commit that mortal sin. Yes, if life has become unbearable for me and I want to terminate it, I should do so some other way.
“But it means my death will be as meaningless as my life; following my life, it’ll signify only meek surrender and defeat. I have lived a non-entity, an insignificant being. Should I die like this as well? And who are these people present here? The representatives of the elite class or their slaves, who never think beyond themselves and care only for themselves. At least the militants live and die for a cause. Their lives have a meaning beyond themselves. Besides, I have myself accepted this task and it’s my duty to carry it out. If it’s my duty to kill myself and others, I should go ahead independent of its cost and consequences. These people are my enemies and I shouldn’t love and spare my enemies.”
“The prime minister is coming out of the prayer hall,” a fellow journalist aroused Ali out of his contemplation and himself rushed towards the VVIP. In a while, Malik Naseem was surrounded by media persons eager to snap and question him.
“Has your government surrendered to terrorists?” One journalist asked the prime minister.
“No. We are committed to stamping out terrorism and God willing we’ll do that,” Malik Naseem replied forcefully.
“The son of a bitch is swearing by God and lying,” Ali, who knew that militants were instrumental in bringing Malik Naseem to power, said to himself.
“It’s widely believed that you have a soft corner for the militants and want to strike a deal with them,” another media person queried.
“I strongly deny
this. Such allegations are part of my character assassination being carried out by my opponents. In fact, my government has accomplished more in the fight against terrorism than my predecessor,” the prime minister replied. “Ok, last question as shortly I am to fly to my home town.”
“Sir in your view what is the most potent problem in the fight against terrorism?”
Malik Naseem thought for a while and then said, “Our young generation. I mean the young people. Because they are impressionable, they fall an easy prey to the machinations of the masterminds of terrorism. You see most of the suicide bombers are the people between the age of fifteen and twenty-five. My message to our young generation is to be vigilant and not to fall into the trap of the militants. Yes, you have grievances against society and more so against the government. Yes, a large number of you remain deprived of jobs, education and a decent life. But these people at whose behest you are willing to take your life and that of others are in fact using you for their own nefarious designs.” With those remarks, Malik Naseem made his way towards his limousine.
“Why is he not acting?” Maulvi Zia, who was watching the proceedings live on TV, said to Dr Junaid in desperation. “Have we betted on the wrong horse?”
“I’m surprised like you,” Dr Junaid replied.
“What we’re going to do now,” Maulvi Zia remarked in vexation as Malik Naseem left the Royal Mosque safe and sound.
“I’m really disappointed,” Dr Junaid said. “I knew Ali was indecisive but I had worked hard on him and I trusted he would deliver. I think we should give him an opportunity to explain what went wrong with him.”
“Another opportunity! There’s no such phrase in our dictionary and you know it. We’ll just eliminate him,” Maulvi Zia thundered.
“Please let me speak to him once and then you can do what you want,” Dr Junaid implored.
“Junaid you know I never say ‘no’ to you. So for your sake I give Ali some time. But I trust you’ll not put me to any further test.”
Dr Junaid replied with a nod of the head.
“But where’ll you meet him?”
“I know he’ll get back to me. So I’m going home and will wait for him.”
Dr Junaid didn’t have to wait that long. In the afternoon, Ali came to see him. He didn’t utter a word and stood motionless with his eyes cast down.
“You have let us down. What went wrong with you?” Dr Junaid asked in a sharp tone.
“I’m sorry sir but I couldn’t make up my mind. The killing of so many innocent people was too abhorrent for me to act.”
“But if that was so, why had you earlier consented to do that?”
Ali didn’t answer.
“You have spared others but your own life is still in peril.”
“I’m aware of that sir. I’m already at the point of no return. But I’ll tell you one thing. Like others, you were using me as a pawn on the chessboard of your ambitions. I’m done with you, as I’m done with the rest.”
With those words, Ali left the place in spite of Dr Junaid’s efforts to stop him.
Next morning all newspapers carried a single-column news: “A young journalist named Ali Naqvi was found dead outside his apartment. A few months back, his father, also a senior journalist, was killed outside his office and the killers remain at large. The investigators are wondering where there is any link between the death of the father and the son.”
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Thanks a lot for reading the book. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to review it at your favourite retailer. You can also reach me at [email protected] for any comments
Thanks
Hussain Haider Zaidi
The Black Rainbow Page 37
