Rehana Khan removed the tiffin-box and handed it to her six year old son. She watched him remove a kebab roll from it with his dirty fingers and chew on it. They were sitting on a bench in the shade of a big banyan tree in a secluded corner of a large park. Jamil looked tired but happy. For the past four days he had thoroughly enjoyed himself. He had been to all those places in Delhi that he had read and heard about.
Ordinarily she would have admonished him for not washing his hands, but she was too troubled to think of anything else. A much more serious issue occupied her mind.
She looked at her watch nervously. He had not yet arrived. She hoped to God he would come back and tell her that the plan had been cancelled. It would be so much better for her and Jamil. She looked back at her son.
‘JAMIIILLL!!!!’ Rehana screamed and sprang from the bench on which she was sitting. She snatched the large toy car that her son had just removed from a duffel bag. She put it back into the bag and zipped it firmly.
She looked at her son angrily, ‘Jamil, this toy is not for you, do you understand?!!!’
Her voice softened on seeing his hurt expression. ‘Listen Jamil, this toy is not for you. I have bought it as a gift for someone else, here in Delhi. Don’t worry, I’ll buy you many more toys, I promise you. Look, why don’t you sit over there on that nice, soft grassy patch and eat your kebab-roll.’
Jamil obediently went over to a grassy patch and continued champing on his roll.
Her gaze returned to the duffel-bag lying by her side containing the toy car. She remembered her husband’s words, ‘It’s much simpler to hide it in a toy. Even at the most stringent check-posts, one rarely takes notice of a child with a toy.’ Rehana bit her lip nervously. Her husband had assured her, it would not go off on its own. It had to be armed and then detonated from a remote device. She shivered involuntarily at the thought.
She pulled the bag close to her and looked around the park. It was the month of May and the park was sparsely crowded. It was getting hotter owing to the steady climb of the sun overhead and the few clouds in the sky were offering scant relief from the former. She sat back on the bench and looked vacantly into the distance.
She found herself going back into her past, something she had been doing over and over again during the past few days. Born and brought up in London, a doctorate in English Literature, she had fallen in love with Hassan, a Pakistani student in her own class. Blinded by her love for him, she had eloped with him to Pakistan where he had promised that they would join the University of Lahore. Her dreams turned to dust when she found herself whisked away to a small town near the North-Eastern border, where she was forced to live her life as per the strict norms of the Shariat Law. Hassan had initially promised her that this was a temporary phase before they moved to Lahore. A few months later, she realized that that was not to be.
She found out to her horror, that her husband was an active member of the Al-Jehad militant organization which specialized in carrying out terrorist activities all over the world. She tried to rekindle the love that they had shared in Oxford together, to persuade Hassan to leave the path of destruction that he had chosen, but to no avail. Every time she thought she had succeeded, he would go for his meetings and come back brimming with even more hatred for the ‘kafirs’ as he called them.
Once, at a family dinner, she had tried to challenge him and point out to him that the Prophet had preached the message of love, and not hatred. Angered by her ‘insolence’, he had dragged her by her hair to their bedroom and whipped her with his belt. The excruciating pain that she felt on her back was nothing compared to the pain of the realization that came to her when she looked into his eyes.
Hassan was no longer the man she had loved. And he would never be.
Rehana deadened herself to the external world and resigned herself to her fate. This was the best way she felt, for herself to cope with her situation. She went about her household activities in an indifferent, uninterested and detached way. The sole spark in her dark life was her son, Jamil, whom she adored and centred her life around. Days passed by, then months and then years, with the future offering neither hope nor respite for Rehana Khan.
Then one day, Hassan had come home and announced that their family would be making a trip to New Delhi, India. He said that they would do a bit of sightseeing and enjoy themselves, for they had never been on a vacation.
Despite herself, Rehana was thrilled! Could it be possible, that Hassan had realized the ill-nature of his ways and decided to change? She had almost hugged Hassan in delight.
Her hopes were soon shattered. After a long journey through the mountains by jeep and later on mule and horseback, they had arrived in Srinagar and checked into a small inconspicuous hotel. Rehana realized that they had entered the country illegally but was too frightened to question her husband about it. She shuddered to think what would happen next.
Her fears were not ill-founded. In the hotel room that night, Hassan had revealed his diabolical plan. They had come here on a mission, he explained. They would go to New Delhi and do a few days of sightseeing to throw off the attention of any police officials that may be watching out for them. Then the bag containing the toy car filled with the explosives was to be taken and placed in a crowded part of a large shopping mall. The bomb would be detonated by him through a mobile phone.
To add to her horror, Rehana was told that SHE herself, accompanied by Jamil, were to do the transfer of the bomb to its final location. It would be less suspicious that way; security personnel were less likely to suspect a woman and her child. She would be greatly appreciated for her efforts in furthering their cause and on completion of their mission, they would be generously rewarded by his leaders.
She had first vehemently opposed his idea. Hassan had then told her that his Masters were ruthless in these matters and that upon her refusal, they would vent their ire upon her and Jamil. Their leaders did not tolerate dissent, especially from their women. In their anger, they would deal with her severely, and even worse, even harm her son to make her regret her actions. Rehana had been paralysed with fear at the thought and agreed to do as told.
As regards their safety while transporting the bomb, Hassan had assured her that the bomb was ‘safe’ even after being armed and could not explode on its own. It would only be detonated by him after Rehana and Jamil had exited the Mall, got into a taxi and were far away from the site. He would be observing their exit from the top of an under-construction building some distance away from the Mall.
The Clock Tower next to the park chimed eleven times bringing Rehana back to the present. She saw Hassan hurriedly approaching them. He said in a low voice, ‘It’s time to go.’ He opened the duffel-bag and armed the explosive device.
‘I’ll leave first. Wait for 20 minutes. Then take Jamil with you in a taxi to the Mall. You know the rest. Here’s the duffel-bag. I’ll take the other one. The rest of the luggage has been disposed off. We’ll meet here after everything’s done. I’ve already checked out of our hotel this morning. The arrangements for us to go back have been made. And yes, take this money,’ He opened his wallet, pulled out a wad of rupee notes and tucked it into her purse.
Jamil tugged at his mother’s sleeve, ‘Ammi, isn’t Abba coming with us? Is he going back home without us? Can’t we go with him?’
Rehana checked her tears, ‘No, darling, but we’ll be meeting him later. Here, why don’t you sit over there and read your book.’
She turned to Hassan and held his arm, “Hassan, please….let us not do it….please…I beg you…’
He looked into her eyes and gently placing his hands on her shoulders, he slowly shook his head, ‘We’re beyond that stage now, Rehana. The decision no longer rests with us.’
Tears streaming down her face, Rehana began to speak, but Hassan placed his finger on her lips and spoke soothingly, ‘Sssshhhh. It’ll be over soon…Remember, we’re doing this for ourselves…..and Jamil…..Wipe your tears now. We don’t want to draw any attention.’
Rehana tried to plead with Hassan for a few minutes but he remained resolute on the matter.
At the end, Hassan caressed her face, kissed his son’s forehead and left. As instructed, Rehana and Jamil left 20 minutes later.
Hassan’s taxi took a left turn off the main road leading to the Big-Shop Mall, rounded the park in front of the Mall and headed on the lonely road towards the deserted, incompletely built skyscraper about a kilometre across from the Mall. Hassan had chosen this spot deliberately. The building’s construction had been halted following a court order and there was no one about to see him come there.
He got out in front of the building and paid off the taxi driver. He bent down to tie his shoelace while the taxi drove off. Hassan could not risk anyone seeing him enter the building.
He pulled his bag onto his shoulder and began to climb the uneven concrete steps of the faceless building. He reached the 4th floor of the building and bracing himself against the strong wind, he set down his bag. He then checked his mobile phone for the strength of the network signal and put it back in his pocket. Then he pulled out a miniature but powerful pair of binoculars from his pocket and focussed them on the entrance of the mall. After a couple of minutes he watched the taxi carrying Rehana and Jamil come to a halt in front of the Big-Shop Mall entrance.
Earlier he had been slightly concerned that Rehana might back out from the mission at the last minute and attempt to run away. But he felt confident that the threat of any harm coming to Jamil had frightened her enough and would not allow the mother inside her to change her mind. He smiled to himself as he saw them pass through the security counter and enter the building.
Rehana walked as if in a daze towards the coffee-shop on the ground floor. In her one hand, she held the dreaded bag and in the other, Jamil’s hand. The coffee-shop was located at the centre of the building. She was supposed to sit there for 30 minutes and have a coffee and a snack so as not to alert suspicion. Then on the way out, she was supposed to leave the bag under her table and head for the main exit. Around her people passed by, entering and leaving the brightly lit boutiques and shops, talking, laughing. People splurging and enjoying themselves at the numerous shops in the Mall.
People, whose lives would soon be extinguished by her.
Rehana sat down at a table and sipped her coffee. She absently watched a young boy entering the coffee-shop with his mother. He was arguing with his mother about buying a snack for the necessary toy that came with it.
Just like Jamil and herself at MacDonalds’ the other day, Rehana thought to herself.
Rehana suddenly felt nauseous. She just could not do it. These were innocent people, just like her. She could not be responsible for destroying the lives of so many innocent people. She looked at the duffel bag lying under the table and made up her mind.
She decided she would not do it.
She would anonymously call the security counter from a phone-booth inside the Mall itself, informing them about the bomb. They were sure to take action and evacuate everyone from the Mall. She and Jamil would leave the Mall after everyone had left. After all, Hassan would not detonate the bomb until he saw them leave. He could not take the risk of detonating the bomb while Jamil and herself were still inside. Blowing up an empty Mall wouldn’t hurt anyone.
His plan would fail!
Rehana suddenly remembered that she was still a British citizen! She and Jamil could steal away through some back-door exit. She would take her son and drive to the British Embassy. On being confirmed as a British citizen, she would be given shelter at the embassy. She would then go back to the UK, where she had her family and friends. She would start a new life with Jamil, far away from the hatred-filled world of Hassan and his terrorist friends.
She felt a thrill of anticipation. She opened her purse and rummaged for some loose change for the phone booth. She cursed when she found nothing but the bundle of rupee notes that Hassan had given her. She opened them to see if there were any coins therein.
A piece of paper fell out. It had evidently been kept in Hassan’s wallet and had been inadvertently passed on to her by Hassan while giving her the money. It had something written on it. Rehana picked it up and began to read.
Rehana stared at the paper in morbid terror.
She had learnt enough Urdu in Pakistan to understand what was written on it. Instructions to Hassan from his Masters telling him to detonate the bomb exactly 15 minutes after Rehana and Jamil had entered the Mall. She felt as if all her strength had suddenly left her.
She and Jamil were to die along with the others!
Her mind raced with the thought and she felt another wave of nausea building up inside her. No wonder Hassan had insisted that she should sit in the coffee-shop for 30 whole minutes before leaving the Mall. Jamil…. his own son!
Her head was spinning and she tried to focus her thoughts. She looked at Jamil and then the bag and then at her watch. She remembered seeing the time when they had entered the Mall. Almost ten minutes had elapsed since then.
She still had time to save herself and Jamil!
Rehana suddenly rose from her chair and grabbed Jamil. She felt her heart pounding against her chest and her head felt as if it would burst. There was no way she could try and save anybody else. She had to save herself, more importantly, her beloved Jamil. She swiftly walked towards the staircase leading down to the parking lot. Fear lent her wings as she flew down the stairs and found an exit which opened out onto the street behind the Mall, where Hassan and his binoculars could not see her. She got into the nearest taxi and told the driver in a trembling voice to take her to the British Embassy as fast as he could.
As they raced away in the taxi, she hugged Jamil close to her and tried not to think of what would happen back at the Mall.
Two minutes later, Hassan put down his binoculars and looked at his watch. He wiped a tear that had carelessly stolen into his eye. He looked up at the sky and said ‘Allah-Hu-Akbar.’ Then he pulled out the mobile phone and pressed a few numbers.
The explosion ripped through the building and decimated everything and every living entity inside it. The deafening sound reverberated through the neighbourhood and smashed the glass windows of the buildings nearby. A cloud of dust and smoke rose a hundred feet high into the air, the result of hundreds of tons of concrete and steel crashing to the ground. The shock waves travelled up to a kilometre away flattening trees and overturning vehicles within a radius of 500 metres. Screams from terrified people in the vicinity filled the air and there was chaos all around.
The taxi had almost reached the British Embassy when Rehana heard the blast. She gasped at the sound of the explosion and tightly closed her eyes. She could not bring herself to look back in that direction. She screamed to herself in her mind, to try and convince herself, that it was not entirely her fault….she had wanted to stop it….she could not have done anything more…Her drained, fatigued mind gave in to numbing silence.
She just held her son tightly and prayed fervently for the victims’ souls.
The taxi came to a halt outside the Embassy. They slowly got out of the taxi and Rehana paid the alarmed taxi-driver who had also heard the noise. She tried to ignore the loud wails of the sirens of the police vehicles and ambulances that were now racing on the opposite side of the road, in the direction of the Mall. Trying to steady her overwrought nerves, Rehana and her son walked unsteadily towards the formidable gates of the British Embassy.
After a detailed scrutiny by the Embassy Security Personnel, Rehana and Jamil were led into a cosy and exquisitely furnished lounge and asked to make themselves comfortable. A polite but alert, armed guard stood unobtrusively to one side watching over them. But she felt more secure than threatened by his presence. For the first time in many years, she felt herself relaxing, as if she was back home in London. She settled into a comfortable armchair and let out a huge sigh. She was still recovering from the shock at how close it had been for Jamil and herself. Outside the building, there was a mild confusion prevailing on the premises as the security was being enhanced in the wake of the bomb blast.
She had divulged to the authorities that she was a British citizen and she had some important information on terrorism to share with the Ambassador. She hoped to get a permission to return to the UK by telling her story and giving them information of the terrorists’ hideout. When staying in Pakistan, she had once chanced upon a map in Hassan’s bag giving the location of the cave, close to their village, where his terrorist group met and had their headquarters. She had memorised the details. She would have to spend a term in jail in India but she hoped that based on the information she would give them, she could negotiate for a lighter sentence.
Then her thoughts went back to what she had done back at the Mall. She felt sickened by the thought. She herself was a mother, destined to play the role of the originator of life. And she just participated in ending the same for many, many innocent men, women and children. The English Scholar inside her reminded her of the lines from Wallace’s famous poem,
‘Woman, how divine your mission, Here upon our Natal sod!
Keep, oh, keep the young heart open, Always to the breath of God
All true trophies of the ages, Are from Mother-love impearled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle, is the hand that rules the world….’
The lines seem to mock and condemn her for her deeds. She buried her head in her hands and began to sob. The tears started to flow down her face, unchecked. The guard looked at her with concern but chose not to intervene.
The television set in the room was turned on and in the process of relaying the breaking news of the day. Unwillingly, Rehana was drawn to the events on the screen. As she continued to watch them, Rehana’s eyes widened in bewilderment and shock. The camera was transmitting pictures of the bomb-blasted area and a breathless reporter was trying to make herself heard above the noise and confusion in the background,
‘The bomb explosion took place about half an hour ago in a dilapidated building not far from the Big-Shop Shopping Mall at Cross Maidan. The building was completely destroyed in the process. The police officials believe that the structure was vacant on account of a court stay-order on its construction and no one is believed to have been hurt. It is fortunate that the blast did not occur anywhere close to the Big-Shop Mall which at that time was packed with Sunday shoppers. Everyone has been vacated from the area. The officials are clueless about the cause of the blast. They say a terrorist hand cannot be ruled out. The police officials theorize that the unfinished, vacant building may have been used to store explosive material by terrorists and the same may have accidentally blown up. The search is on to retrieve more clues to ascertain the cause of this mysterious blast. We shall keep you updated…..’
Rehana stared at the TV as if frozen in stone. She simply could not comprehend what had happened. She shook her head in bewilderment. How could this have happened? Had Hassan taken the bomb with him by mistake? No, he had checked and armed the bomb himself and kept it inside duffel-bag at the Park, the bag that she was supposed to carry to the Mall. Did he have a second bomb with him that had accidentally gone off? Had there been another plan by someone to kill Hassan?! Did his Masters desire to eliminate Hassan as well, so as to leave no traces? They were certainly capable of that. Then, what of the bomb she had kept in the Mall? Why hadn’t that gone off? Had the detonating device failed? Had Hassan’s colleagues killed him by mistake, before he set off the bomb in the Mall?
Her mind was racing with endless possibilities.
The implication of the events set in. The first one; she was not a murderer! The bomb at the Mall had not exploded. She felt weak with relief at the thought.
Then came the second realization: Hassan. He could not have survived. And yet, strangely enough, she did not feel at all bad about it. She realized that her love for him had ended when she came to know that he had wanted to kill her and Jamil. Jamil, his own son……
‘Ammi, when shall we go back home. I want to meet Abba, he’s gone back home without us, hasn’t he?’ Not knowing what to say, Rehana pulled her son close to her and fresh tears ran down her face.
Jamil pulled back his head and wiped her tears. ‘Don’t cry, Ammi. I’m very sorry, I did not listen to you. I know you want to give it to someone else and not me. It’s all right. I promise I’ll ask Abba to return it to you on reaching home.’
Rehana looked at her son, confused. ‘What are you talking about, Jamil?’
Jamil answered in a small voice, ‘The toy car, of course…..’
Jamil now had his mother’s undivided attention. She pulled him close to her and looked at him intently. ‘Wh…..what….are you saying, Jamil?’ She asked in a trembling voice.
Jamil bent his head sheepishly, ‘I had badly wanted to keep that toy car for myself, but you wanted to give it to someone else. I knew that Abba was to go back home before us. So when Abba and you were talking to each other in the park this morning, I removed the toy-car from your bag and put it into Abba’s bag. That way, Abba would take the car back home with him and you would not be able to give it to anyone else…...’
A smartly dressed gentleman entered the room and addressed Rehana. ‘Madam, I’m Mr Brown, private secretary to Ambassador Smith. We have confirmed your identity; your credentials are perfectly in order. The Ambassador will see you now…..…..’
Epilogue:
‘This is BBC world. In our breaking news tonight, following a tip-off from a secret informer, the combined US and Coalition troops carried out an armed attack on a cave near the mountain town of Mushti, on the Pakistan-Afghanistan border, believed to be the stronghold of the militant group ‘Al-Jehad’. Over a hundred and fifty terrorists were killed and all the remaining survivors were taken prisoners. This is one of the most successful missions executed until now in the War on Terror…….’
‘This is Barkha Dutt reporting for NDTV news. For the second time this week, the Bomb Squad was called to the Cross Maidan area in New Delhi, this time to the Big-Shop Mall. An unclaimed duffel-bag was found under a table at the coffee-shop on the ground floor. The Bomb Squad examined it and found it to contain some clothes, probably left by an absent-minded shopper……..’
‘Passengers travelling on British Airways flight 403 from New Delhi to London Heathrow are requested to proceed for Immigration Clearance and Security Check.’
The Immigration Officer at the Indira Gandhi International airport at New Delhi examined the faces of the attractive lady and young boy standing in front of his desk and compared them with those in the photographs on their British Passports. The lady smiled at him sweetly. He smiled back, stamped their passports and handed them back. He watched them walk in the direction of the Security Check section. He gave a sigh and thought, her husband must be one lucky guy……
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