Lally moved out of the shrine’s premises very quietly. No one knew as she ran down the flight of granite steps while the first rays of the sun emerged on the eastern horizon. Her dishelved hair flew in the morning breeze. Her legs moved at a frenzied pace, oblivious to the danger of falling on those hard granite steps. In one go she descended all the steps and reached the dirty patch of road at the bottom. Here she paused for a while, turning her head and casting a longing look at the shrine perched above on the rocky precipice. She moved on humming to herself. She did not know where to go. She just moved and with every step, the melody within her grew. The initial humming transformed itself into a reverberating song. She continued to walk and sing. Early pilgrims to the shrine saw her as they crossed her in their path. No one took any particular notice of her and no one understood a word of what she sang. Lally came into a thickly populated area. With the arrival of the morning, human habitation stirred. People began coming outdoors to fulfill their daily chores and saw her there. She went on singing hymns no one understood. A lady standing in an open door saw her advance. She called out to her, “Come here! Have some tea.” Lally stopped at the door. The lady went inside and returned with a cup of steaming salt tea and some snacks. Lally sat there and drank the tea. The lady enquired, “Where do you come from?”
Lally just looked at her and smiled. The lady sensing that the woman possessed some supernatural powers persisted. “Why don’t you come in?” Lally got up and resumed her walk. The lady called but Lally seemed not to listen. She was on her own journey, singing her own incoherent, unintelligible hymns. She ate what people offered her. She drank what they held out to her. She walked during the day and took shelter anywhere during the night. By and by, she came to be accepted as part of a routine. No one bothered. No one seemed to worry on her account. She continued to roam, singing her own hymns, till one day when she was arrested by the Mujahideen and charged with obscenity, vulgarity and unIslamic ways. People watched as she was handcuffed and paraded through busy streets and taken to the Mujahideen hideout. No one intervened. No one protested. No one recognized her. No one claimed her. No one owned her. People just watched as silent spectators. Her arrest provided them with yet one more topic for gossip. Some said she was an agent of RAW. Some said she collected information about the Mujahideen during the day and briefed the security forces at night. Lally, handcuffed, was produced before the Chief of “Ulema council”. A young man with a black beard on a heavy face sat at an exalted position as Lally, drawn and weak, with dishelved hair, wearing a pheran which was in tatters, stood in front of him. The council members, seven in all, stood in a semicircle, three on each side of the chairman. They were all bearded men, sporting caps of various shapes. Apart from their beards they shared a common vulture like gaze, devouring the weak bundle of flesh presented before them. A man rose and announced, “Sirs, here stands a women who brought faith into disrepute by her actions. She moves about half naked. She does not cover her head. She does not fast when prescribed. She freely mixes with men. She sings in public. She performs her vulgar dances on the roadside. She is produced in front of you to receive her punishment in light of the holy word, and Sharia. May Allah be merciful upon us, Ameen.” All those present responded with ‘Ameen’. The chief of the council took a long look at the subject of discourse standing before him and addressed her thus: “I seek Allah’s help against Satan, the wicked. In the name of Allah, the most merciful, the most compassionate,praise be to Allah and Muhammad, the seal of prophets, Peace be upon him. Khatoon you have heard the charges that have been made against you. Before pronouncing our judgement we give you an opportunity to defend yourself. Say what you may, we are listening.”
Lally who had hitherto been humming very quietly broke into a loud pitch. “When fish shall fly, the birds swim, flowers bloom in embers, mules pen verses and asses paint. When fish shall fly, the birds swim, flowers bloom in embers,….” The council chief looked at the jury. His deputy sitting next to him said, “Chief, I think we are wasting our time. You should deliver your judgement.” The jury supported the motion with one voice and the chief cleared his throat and said, “In the name of Allah, the most merciful and beneficient. In the present case against anonymous Khatoon, it is proved that charges have been made on the basis of sound evidence. Therefore, in accordance with Sharia, it is ordered that she be stoned till death. May Allah’s mercy be upon us, Ameen.” And Lally continued to sing, “When fish shall fly, the birds swim, flowers bloom in embers, mules pen verses and asses paint.…”
Gani roamed the wilderness. He looked for his companion under the dense almond trees, along the banks of the lake and over the top of the hillock. She was nowhere to be found. As darkness began to crowd around the trees he hurried his steps, looking down from the raised plateau. He saw the entire city shrouded in a mist, the sun having gone down the western mountains.
He concentrated on the scene in front of him. Nestled among the multitude of houses stood the shrine. Its pinnacle rose above the layer of mist. Gani continued to walk. Night was descending fast and darkness was engulfing the city. The air seemed to be still and the trees motionless. A deadly silence prevailed and only Gani’s footsteps made the difference. As Gani came down to a level ground, the distant barking of a dog became audible. Gani had lost his tracks. He had lost his companion and, in search of her, his own course. He continued to walk aimlessly. After walking for an eternity he stopped. He could see nothing. It was pitch dark all around. He sat down, feeling with his outstretched hands the turf under him. He remained there suspended, motionless, lost in an ocean of darkness. Suddenly he heard a distant roar, a thunder in the sky, he thought. He looked up towards the sky. He saw swarms of particles glowing in the heavens. The thunderous sound deepened into a roar. Ganis tood up, unable to comprehend. He continued to gaze at the glowing particles, which seemed to cover the entire city sky. He shivered in horror as these glowing objects spewed fire over the city. In a flash, the entire city shone. He found himself in the courtyard of the holy shrine. The deafening roar had gained a monstrous intensity. Gani fell to the ground shaking under his feet. He steadied himself and lunged towards the shrine door. The skyline turned brilliant as thousands of fires raged all around. Gani could see rising flames trying to reach the sky.
He ran for his life. There was no way one could save oneself from the fire that seemed to engulf everything. Gani saw chinar trees catching fire and turning to ash in no time. He continued to run, trying to avoid the explosions in his way. The rattling sound echoed, the big bangs shook the earth and seemed to tear the crest of the ground. The leaping flames produced so much heat that water in the hitherto placid Dal began to boil and houseboats on its surface flew up into the sky. Gani ran through the fire and heat, death and destruction. His own robe caught fire more than once and he burnt his hand extinguishing the leaping flames. His beard was singed and he could smell the smoke that filled his nostrils. He ran on as people ran from one end to another, only to be consumed by a falling block of building or an explosion under their feet. He saw them trampled under mountains of debris. He could do nothing but run away. At last the spray of fire began to wane and it was all quiet. Again the night was as still as the inside of a grave. Gani looked hard. The leaping flames were at a distance now. In the reflected light he could recognize his own house, half-burnt but still standing on the banks of Nalla Mar. Gani ran towards it stumbling on the debris from razed houses.He reached his home and went inside closing the door shut and secure behind.
Yousuf Shah conveyed to Nullah Khan his intention of crossing over to Kashmir and his desire to be with his people. After all, he was the last recognized Sultan and it did not behove him to desert his people at this critical juncture. Nullah Khan opposed the move, basing his argument on concerns for the safety and security of Yousuf Shah. He argued that since Yousuf Shah was the rallying point for all freedom fighters, he could not be exposed to the dangers connected with his return to the battlefront. Yousuf Shah dismissed the argument and declared that he would not be held back by any real or imaginary threat to his life. Nullah Khan then tried the political card. After all, the host country would be offended if symbols of Kashmir’s freedom and resurgence were to abandon the great Islamic State and choose to live under the umbrella of the kufar. Nullah Khan thought that it would amount to a negation of the two-nation theory and set in motion the long disastrous chain of regional aspirations fuelled by identity crisis. But Yousuf Shah was firm in his resolve. He would not be stopped at any cost. Nullah Khan sensed that Yousuf Shah actually could not be stopped and submitted to him, but at the same time pleaded that he be given the responsibility of organizing the travel. This would allow him to draft and detail trusted bodyguards to ensure the Chairman’s safety and security. Yousuf Shah relented and Nullah Khan set out on his mission. He had to raise a contingent of trustworthy fighters at short notice. Taking leave of Yousuf Shah he headed for his office and once there he closeted himself in the secret inner chamber where two hot lines were available. He picked up one phone and was directly connected to the chief of RAW in Delhi.
“Hello!”
“Namaskar chief,” Nullah Khan said and smiled as he heard the reply to his salutations. Then resuming he just mumbled few numbers into the mouthpiece.
“56207 by 2 upon YXZ.”
Again he smiled into the mouthpiece, gave a short laugh and said. “Ok ji, Namaskar.”Replacing this hot line, he picked up another telephone and was directly connected to the chief of ISI in Rawalpindi. “Hello! As-Salaam-Alaikum.” He listened and smiled into the mouthpiece and said, “85293XYZ upon ABC. Achha jenab. Khuda Hafiz!” He replaced the receiver and sat on his chair. A sheet of paper lay in front of him. He brought out a pen from his pocket and began putting down names on the paper.
The escorting contingent of Yousuf Shah was going to consist half of RAW and half of ISI men.
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
