He called his secretary and dictated a long letter. The letter was in the form of a firman addressed to Jumbo. Listing Kashyap’s acts of omissions and commissions Nilnag concluded that Kashyap and his tribe were not fit to rule directly. He and his tribe could however be excellent as officials of the state. Making this important point, Nilnag invited Jambo to take over the kingdom. He offered all help.
Ajab Malik entered the technology center. It was a dream come true. Here he was to realize his lifelong ambition of learning the intricacies of the most cutting-edge TV technology. It was a grilling schedule. He had all along been a dreamer, cozily ensconced in literature and fine arts. At first the world of technology had appeared to be totally alien to him. He felt he was an outsider who knew nothing about the basics of technology. But the course managers had worked out a complete schedule taking all his deficiencies into account. He had to go through fundamental courses in physical laws, optics, electronics and a host of other related subjects. As he went through these courses, a new fascinating world opened up to him. For the first time, he became aware of the dynamism of matter. The basic laws governing physical processes could be interpolated into meta-physical situation. The basic and fundamental features of entire thought process looked to be the same: knowing the unknown. Physicists were essentially philosophers. Their only distinction was in the degree of stress laid upon the rational. Philosophers created their own norms to test the hypothesis propounded whereas scientists tried to test their theories on universally accepted and acknowledged standards. The philosopher’s logic attained mathematical precision in science. All considered, philosophy could be, while science was. Ajab Malik reflected on all these issues. The philosophical background forced him to dive deep into the newly acquired bits of knowledge.
Basic beauty of matter lay in its simplicity of organization and complexity of form. A stone and a log of wood were essentially the same. An atom was the basic unit and indivisible under ordinary circumstances. Combinations and permutations based on simple methods resulted in the great diversity of forms. The change was eternal, continuous, and self-propelling. Dynamism seemed to be the order. Learning about the attributes of matter equally fascinated Ajab Malik, especially the indivisibility and indestructibility of it. And then that marvel which ran through the entire universe in a never-ending cascade, the energy, changing its forms but never ceasing to be.
There was not much to be discussed with his tutors. They were essentially interested in creating a scientific temper in this young man before pushing him on to more complicated areas of electronics and optics. By and by Ajab graduated from one course to another. His tutors were impressed with his sharp intellect and extremely good memory.
Vision was the conduit or the bridge that connected the human mind to the outside world. The eye was projected as a complete and perfect camera, taking in the minutest detail presented to it in its visual field. The mechanism of picture formation, the role of nerves, the importance of a screen to project the picture was very clearly brought out. Then there was the super computer, the visual cortex inside our brain that received inputs from a host of sources, decoded them and then controlled and guided the entire operation.
Dr Speilberg was the master of simulation. He could recreate intricate mechanisms with the help of his gadgets. He had organized a demonstration of mechanism of vision, using a high-grade camera, which could automatically rotate around a 180 degree plane and take pictures, which were directly transferred to a TV screen. The entire assembly was linked to a super computer, which was programmed to alter the description of the pictures. Ajab was amazed to see the results being projected on the TV screen in front of him. Dr Speilberg continued with his discourse, explaining the different modes of his gadgets. Ajab Malik raised his hand. His teacher noticed it and encouraged him to ask his question. “Doctor, is our memory also linked to vision? I can see whatever I select from the storehouse of my memory?”
“Yes, Ajab Malik, you are right and see I have simulated that also. We have been running this equipment for sometime now and everything that has come into the camera has been stored in the computer. Here push this retrieval button and you get a choice of one million bits. Now whichever bit you want can be brought on to the screen. So simple.”
Ajab Malik was ready with yet another question. “In that case, Doctor, can’t we go for partial simulation. Say, you use my memory in place of the computer’s stored memory and display the same on the screen for all of us to see.”
Dr Speilberg was impressed, “That is right, that is possible and I think we can try that. I will think over it. Do see me later. We can discuss this idea. It seems quit elogical.”
Dr Speilberg left his students there. He straightaway headed for his room. Ajab Malik had thrown him a little challenge and he was eager to overcome it.
It was a group of thirty young men. It included eleven Afghans, five Sudanese, six Arabs, two Bangladeshis and five local guides hailing from different parts of Kashmir. Budshah made up the thirtieth of the group. Their leader was a burly Afghan, Abu Kendal Gul Bahar. He was to be addressed as Amir. All others were brothers, brothers in Islam all fighting for a common cause, the cause of Allah. Barring the five locals and Budshah, no one had been to Kashmir. They were brought together a few days before their planned departure and made to know each other. Rules and regulations were made known. A strict adherence to a code of conduct was expected of them. The Amir took the opportunity to renew and rekindle the flame of Jehad. He spoke well. Budshah felt impressed. On the appointed day, they set out early. A bus took them from their guesthouse to the Karachi railway station where seats for them had been booked in advance. They carried minimum luggage. They were told that once in Kashmir, the local populace would provide them with every item of comfort.
Inside the train the Amir sat in their midst. He signaled to them to come close and listen. He raised his hands to join them in front of his serene bearded face and said a short prayer, “Oh Allah! The master of earth and heaven, the master of the Day of Judgement, listen to our supplication. We, your subjects, turn ourselves to thee. Oh Allah! accept our offerings. We, your humble servants, pray to thee. We come from thee and we shall return to thee. Allah lead us on in search of our goal for it is thee that moves us on. In battle may we perish, accept our Jehad and reward us on the appointed day, the Day of judgement and forgive us all our sins. Oh Allah! Be with us, Amen.”
The congregation surrounding the Amir responded by raising their hands and saying, “Amen”.
The train journey had begun and Budshah, sitting in a window seat, could see the evening descend over Karachi. Tall skyscrapers were receding as the train accelerated on its tracks. He continued to stare into the night, lost in his own inner world. He longed for his beautiful Kashmir. This hot sultry evening reminded him of the pleasant and cool environs of his palace, nestled between majestic chinar trees. Budshah wanted to return to his land. He had seen enough. He had traveled enough. He had thought enough. A plan was shaping up in his mind. A plan that envisaged establishing a united, bold self-confident Kashmir. A land where all lived in eternal peace, where no one was discriminated on the basis of his creed, his faith. His Kashmir was to be a state firmly dedicated to the development of human intellect in all its manifestations. Budshah continued to think of ways and means to achieve his goal—the goal of total enlightenment, emancipation and prosperity.
As the taxi screeched to a halt outside the airport, Mahaballi jumped out and ran into the building. Coming into the departure lounge he dashed for the counter. The beautiful girl looked up at him enquiringly. Before Mahaballi could interact with her someone touched his shoulder. He turned and found Raw Kaw standing obediently in front of him.
“Your Excellency, he is through, heading for the aircraft. Your plane is ready; this way please.”
They ran through the long corridor that opened directly on to the runway. There Mahaballi could catch a glimpse of Birbal escorting a beautiful girl on the aircraft staircase. He ran to his own aircraft, which lay parked at a distance. As he reached it, the pilot received him and guided him up the stairs into the plane. In a moment the plane began to move. Mahaballi stretched his exhausted body and the hostess began giving him a massage.
Mahaballi picked up the phone and instructed his pilot to follow Birbal’s plane. Satisified at the piece of good work, he relaxed. The massage helped a lot. As the plane soared up into the sky, Mahaballi drifted off into a slumber. The hostess woke him up. Mahaballi looked furious, “What is it?”
“Sir, it is important. The captain wants to speak to you.” She handed him the cordless phone. Mahaballi said, “Yes.”
“Sir, the plane that we are following is changing its course. It is not heading for the United States, that is America. It is instead going towards Africa.”
“Africa ? What the hell does Birbal intend to do there?”
“Sir, I don’t know.”
“Ok, continue to follow him and keep me informed.”
Mahaballi handed over the phone to the waiting hostess. He was wide awake now.
‘What did this mean? Birbal, Birbal you are a pain in my neck. I will thrash you. I will show you your worth but let this treasure scam end.’
Mahaballi continued to feel agitated. After a flight of more than four hours the captain of the plane contacted him again.
“Sir, we are following our target. He is landing in Burkino Faso—are we to land?”
“Burkino Faso?”
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
