The entire airport area had been brought under siege. Col Sharma placed his men at all strategic locations. The runway, the path leading from the runway to the airport building, the arrival lounge, the luggage conveyor, the doors, each place was teeming with soldiers. His man Friday, the informer, was placed behind the glass door at the arrival lounge entry. He was to signal the arrival of the lady, the moment she crossed the door. The aircraft came to its final halt on the tarmac. The stairs were thrown down and the doors opened. Sitting there like a big bird the aircraft began emptying its contents. Men, women and children started coming out one by one and walked leisurely across the runway towards the arrival lounge. And then finally she appeared! There, at the top of the stairs, holding an infant in her arms. Dressed in traditional shalwar kameez, she wore a bottle green knee length coat. Her hair was neatly and tightly held back and covered by a green scarf. A young man, bespectacled, and wearing a business suit closely followed her. Both of them walked side by side, smiling and talking to each other. There was no trace of any anxiety on her face as she crossed the automatic door and the informer raised his cap for Col Sharma who looked from a corner of the lounge. He was surprised for a second. A baby in her arms! Something seemed wrong. Was it really a baby or a trap? He quickly tried to sort it out. Anyway, he took brisk strides and directly approached the couple. He stood in front of her.
“Hello young lady? How was the journey?”
She stopped, opened her mouth to say something, and then looking quickly around the lounge, smiled and said, “Thank you, officer. The flight was superb.”
Col Sharma moved closer and almost whispered into her ear,“Lally, no chance—wisdom lies in giving up.”
And that was the confirmation that Lally had been waiting for. In a swift move she snatched away the service revolver of Col Sharma from the holster where it was hanging by his side and in the same move brought it up and positioned it on his temple. “Now move!” she thundered. The Col was stoned into submission. Everything had happened so fast that he could not move a finger. She kept him at a safe distance and then handed over the baby to her companion. Free from the baby, she held on to the revolver with both her hands and commanded the Col to turn and raise his hands. He had no choice. A commotion had broken out all around. The soldiers with their automatic weapons watched in a stupor. What could they do? She forced the Col to a corner and stood guard, watching every little move in the arrival lounge. She ordered all civilians to one side and soldiers to another. Col Sharma’s informer—a local in civilian clothes—tried to move from the door towards the passengers on the far side. At that moment Lally ordered him to stop.
“Don’t go there. You do not belong to us. Come here and be in the Col’s company.” Then turning again to Col Sharma, she said, “Col, I can very easily walk away from here but be at ease I have no intention of spoiling the hard work you have done. I will gladly come with you. But I have only a little work to do before I call this off.”With this she turned her gaze towards the passengers watching her in awe.
“My dear countrymen, with my arrest, even with my death the Movement shall not end; it shall go on for God the Almighty has ordained thus. It shall go on, as His writ is the only one that runs. We do not seek power, position, or wealth; we only seek that which is our right. The usurpers shall have to vacate our beautiful land and we shall run our own affairs in the true spirit of peace—Islam. The spirit that we believe in is the only creed. The creed of Allah as taught to us taught by his messenger—to him be peace. I only wish to tell you that many of you shall today fall if I fire a single shot from this gun, and that I do not want. I shall rather give up myself than bring any harm to you for it is for you that I fight. So I am going with him but before that I shall kill a man. His death is ordained thus, for a traitor has no right to live.There he goes,” and with a swift move, she emptied the entire revolver into the chest of Col Sharma’s ace informer.
As he fell in a pool of blood, Lally threw the revolver into the waiting hands of Col Sharma saying, “Officer I am sorry for the hold up! Come, let us go.”
Birbal reached Delhi and from the airport he straightway drove to Todermal’s office. Storming into his chamber, Birbal burst out, “What the hell did you mean by getting Yousuf Shah arrested when I had succeeded in bringing him around? You did not even bother about the wazwan he was arranging for me.”
Todermal smiled saying nothing but Birbal persisted and demanded a reply. Finally Todermal gave in.
“Look, son, wazwan is now available in Delhi also. No need to worry on that account. Yousuf Shah was planning secession. How could we allow that? He had no business in talking to Miss Robin Hood. National security can never be put to risk and then the moves we made were cleared by Mahaballi himself, so why not ask him.”
Birbal could not argue after that for Mahaballi could not be wrong. Anyway, he wanted to pursue the Lamppost line and in right earnest start for Kohi Qaf. He went to his own office and called an assistant who was well versed with geographical matters. It was he who in fact had shown him Kashmir on India’s map, when the department for Kashmir affairs was brought under his charge. He asked his assistant Rao about Qaf and Rao assured him that it would be located within a fortnight. Birbal fixed a meeting with Rao after a fortnight and in the meantime decided to seek ways and means to proceed to the Promised Land. His immediate priority was to obtain Mahaballi’s approval. So without further loss of time he telephoned Mahaballi’s office and sought an appointment, which was fixed. The earliest he could see Mahaballi was after six months. He felt happy. In Mahaballi’s kitchen he had planted a junior cook who used to keep him informed about the dishes being prepared. One day, he rang up and among other things mentioned that the menu reserved for Gorby was being substituted by 16 menus. Birbal was intrigued. How come? he thought. He pursued the matter and contacted Goaty Gujral who had been India’s ambassador to USSR. Gujral informed him about the disintegration of USSR.
“When did it happen?” Birbal asked.
“When! Arey Baba, it happened a year ago.”
Bribal’s whole plan to reach Kohi Qaf through Moscow was shattered. He could no longer obtain the 370 coins and 52 cards through KGB. He had to revise his entire strategy.
The tailor who stitched Mahaballi’s clothes was a childhood friend of Birbal’s. One day they crossed each other in the Chandni Chowk.
“Hello old pal, how are you?”Birbal asked. The tailor invited him to hot and sizzling Kababs at Karim’s. Both sat in a corner and talked of their old friends. The tailor after a while jumped up and said, “Oh my god, I am late. I just forgot I have urgent work.”
“What is it old man? Sit a while.”
“No, no, Mahaballi’s clothes are not ready and tomorrow he goes to Azerbaijan.”
What? Birbal was aghast! Lady Luck, it seems, had decided to smile upon him. Now only if he could find a place in Mahaballi’s entourage! Rao had told him that Kohi Qaf is in Azerbaijan. He left the tailor standing there and ran to Mahaballi’s office. He had to move fast.
On arrival at the office he talked to his old friend Chander, the gatekeeper whom he had installed recently. He went with him to the visitors’ lounge and asked for help. Chander was in a fix. How could he help his friend? Then an idea struck him and telling Birbal to wait for him he went inside. As it was late in the evening the babus had gone home; there seemed to be no one around. After some time Chander came holding a file and put it on the table in front of Birbal. They opened it and leafing through it came to a sheet of paper where they stopped. Here it was, the list of those accompanying Mahaballi. Birbal brought out his pen and added his name. It was so simple and easy that both laughed. The gatekeeper picked up the file to replace it in the office and Birbal took leave, as he had to prepare for his journey.
An excerpt from Ayaz Rasool Nazki’s book SATISAR, THE VALLEY OF DEMONS published by Vitasta Publishing and the book is available on www.vitastapublishing.com
