There was a knock on the door followed by a weary "come in" from inside the room. The watchman entered the room with visible concern on his face. Yaqoob loved to serve this organization and his hero but he couldn't bear seeing his hero in such a state. He understood very well that his time was near its end. The thought saddened him even more that his hero would suffer so much in his end times when he had never even hurt a fly. He saw Sheikh Abdul Haadi on his chair resting his head on his forearm on the table. He looked up and squinted his eyes to see Yaqoob Khan in front of him. There were clear signs of depression on his face. Yaqoob could not control himself. He leapt towards Sheikh and held his hand.
"Just say the word! I will lay down my life but bring him back!", he said, staring at Sheikh. Sheikh turned his gaze to the window away from him. He started weeping and apparently ceasing something from passing his lips. "Just allow me! I even know the wretched place. I also have connections on the border", Yaqoob repeated this time more demandingly. There was still no response from Sheikh. Yaqoob exhaled and paused for a moment. He let go of Sheikh's hand, looked down on the ground and collapsed into the chair opposite to the table. They both sat there in silence for a few moments.
"I know you don't like to take up arms but there is no choice in this matter. Soleiman didn't go there to fight! He went there to teach them the difference between good and bad which is not a crime punishable by death. If we don't do anything, we shall be equally accountable", Yaqoob snapped. "Don't you think there might be a reason that I inadvertently chose this mosque and this organization? Don't you think that things were always gonna end up this way?"
More silence followed.
"Just nod, if you need me to do it. He needs to be saved. You promised his mother", Yaqoob whispered, still looking at the ground. He saw Sheikh nod at the corner of his eyes. He immediately stood up, held his hand, kissed it and declared, "I swear to Allah, even if I have to take on entire armies by myself, I will bring him home". He quickly left the room eager to get this over with. On the other hand, Sheikh Abdul Haadi regretted to involve Yaqoob in this matter.
Before joining the organization, Yaqoob Khan had been an Army SSG commando who had served in rescue operations all around the country and also knew his way around the globe as he had served in various remote locations around the world while working for the U.N. peacekeeping army. He had been an exceptional sniper in his prime conveniently codenamed "Baaz" (Hawk). As soon as he left the bloodshed behind, he devoted his life for the service of the mosque and the organization. Sheikh Abdul Haadi felt very bad for sending him back to the bullet ridden hells he had been through but maybe Yaqoob was right. Maybe this was God's plan all along. Why did he had to choose this mosque out of the tens of thousands of mosques in the country? Why did Soleiman had to be stranded in a place where Yaqoob had connections? Sheikh had no answer to these questions but all he could care about was the result.
Yaqoob Khan had entered the room a concerned man but when he came back out, he was a determined man filled with resolve. He even felt himself smile ever so slightly. He had just been granted a chance to serve his hero and his organization by doing what he did best. A part of him wanted to stay miles away from the brutality and carnage but deep down he knew that getting dirty while mopping up was the reason he had joined the army at the first place. He calmly walked through the corridor out to the open expanse at the back of the mosque where his quarter stood. The mosque was about to be crammed with people as the time for Maghrib was approaching. At the back of the mosque, madrasa children were making the most of the usual free hour they were granted after the Asr prayer, playing different games and there was deafening noises and absolute chaos out there. Five or six groups of about ten or twelve children each were scattered around the open space, playing their heart out. Yaqoob calmly navigated through them to his quarter at the far end of the roofless expanse. As he entered the quarter, he found his mother sound asleep and his wife cooking for the night. The room was dimly lit and had two single beds, both aligned with the two far corners of the rectangular room, a showcase for his family photos, medals and awards, and a small single burner stove that was placed on the ground near the entrance so that the smoke wouldn't stay in the room. The room was not the most beautiful but the remarkable etiquettes of his mother and wife made it look like a palace. Not one thing was out of place and not a speck of dust could be found on anything.
He only had a mother and a wife, Razia left in the world. His father had passed away in his childhood. He could barely remember his face. Yaqoob had no children. There was a moment years ago when he had held his heir in his hands but that was not to be. The poor guy had arrived at the world before his time and had to leave the same way. The doctors had explained to him how her wife could not bear another pregnancy which he embraced as the will of God. Razia had felt the guilt for depriving Yaqoob from the happiness of being a father but soon forgot it all thanks to his soft nature. On the other hand, the old age had taken a toll on his mother's mind. Her brain often jumped back in time and recognized Yaqoob as his father. He understood it years ago when she called him by his father's name and talked about events that had happened decades ago as if they had just happened. Even when she was in the present, she couldn't grasp the gravity of issues so Yaqoob always had to find different ways to communicate with her.
His mother sat up the moment he came in. Razia left the stove and stared at him expectantly. They both knew that Yaqoob never visited the house at that hour so were sure that there had to be some explanation.
"So happy you seem today. Have Soleiman returned?", his mother casually asked smiling. He couldn't smile because he knew what he was there to declare was not good news for the family.
"I am going to bring him home Amma", he said without making eye contact. To which his mother asked, "So you're going to the railway station to receive him?"
"No Amma, I am going to that country to rescue and retrieve him", he said in a hushed tone. "And it's gonna take a plane", he continued. He expected all sorts of emotions and tears from either side of him. But instead he was hit with an unusual answer.
"Ramadan is right around the corner, just come back before Ramadan", his mother said before going back to sleep. He looked at her with disbelief for a while then looked to his wife to hear what she had to say. There was clear sorrow in her eyes but she chose to encourage him. She had always felt that he thought of himself being useless to the cause. Now that he had been granted an opportunity, she would want nothing more than her husband's happiness.
"Amma is right. Ramadan is less than a month away. Just be back before the first fasting and be sure to bring honey and dry fruits on you way back", she responded, expertly burying her sadness and clumsily went back to cooking.
Yaqoob opened his cupboard to fetch his traveling bag expecting it to be trashed. He was surprised to see it sparkling clean and well sorted. His rifle also seemed to be recently oiled and tended. He clutched the rifle and smiled. He turned to see Razia at his back.
"Amma and I knew the day Sheikh sahib received that letter, that this day was already on its way", she said as she saw him smiling at her.
Yaqoob went back to gathering his supplies and clothes for the road. He walked to the showcase and picked up an old kettle that he used to store his savings in. He took out the cash that he had saved for the worst possibilities and stashed back the half of it. In a matter of moments, he had readied two bags and a rifle case that spanned in its length, almost equal to his height. He disassembled the rifle as much as he could to make it look more like some umbrella or walking stick than a rifle. He hung the bags on his shoulders and walked to his mother's bed to say his goodbyes. His mother put both her hands on his cheeks, mumbled a prayer and blew at his face. Yaqoob strode dutifully to the door and stopped to take one last glance at his family like he did in his army days. Razia wanted to ask him when would he be back and to urge him to come back sooner but she didn't need to. Yaqoob could read her face like a billboard.
"Have I ever dishonored any of Amma's wishes?", he said with a playful grin on his face. There fell the first tear from the strong woman's eyes. He knew that there was nothing he could do to comfort her other than to return home successfully. He stepped outside with the bags and went straight to the mosque to offer Maghrib prayer. Judging by the lack of glances coming his way, he understood that only his family and Sheikh knew what his plans were, which suited him. As soon as he was done with the Maghrib prayer, he started his journey. He knew his mission was not easy but there was a way to make it less complicated. He took out his phone and dialed a number from his memory.