The Jinnah Park Rawalpindi was a pleasant sight. The Evening sun was making the grass and the trees glow. There was utter chaos with the children playing every game they could think of, the older people were doing all sorts of aerobics, laughter therapy and Yoga in circles while others just sat there with their families and enjoyed the view. Among such families, a rather heavily built woman sat on a sheet with a bunch of picnic supplies and attended her three children. Two of whom were toddler girls while the other was a boy at late teenage. The teenager had his eyes glued to his iPhone and didn't care whatever went on around him. The toddlers were the fussiest anyone can ever have. They would fight each other for any reason whatsoever. At the moment they were fighting for one corner of the sheet they wanted to sit on. What benefit did the corner provided? Nobody knew. The woman was shouting and yelling every once in a while. A phone, sitting idly in front of her, rang and the woman answered it almost immediately even though the number was unknown to her.
"Assalamu alaikum, may I help you?", the woman greeted the caller. She was in no mood for pleasantries but phone belonged her husband and his acquaintances were not to be messed with.
"Walaikum assalam, Is General sahib there?", the respectful voice responded. To which, the woman replied, "He is unavailable right now, please call later".
"Just tell him Baaz needs a favor", the voice insisted.
The woman put the phone on her shoulder to muffle the microphone and shouted to her husband who was doing Yoga in the distance wearing a flowery printed vest and a pair of soccer shorts, "O ji? Do you know any Baaz?"
"Arbaaz?", asked the husband from afar without turning to see his wife while imitating the actions of the Yoga instructor at center of the circle. "Not Arbaaz, Baaz!" the wife shouted once more. Half the park could hear the exchange but they didn't care because it was the story of every other household.
The husband jogged back to the family with a towel on his shoulder. He was out of breath. "Who was it again?", he asked gullibly. The wife smacked her forehead and yelled, "Aray! BAAZ!". All the men in the park seemed to enjoy the exchange but didn't react after remembering their own situations back home.
The Husband immediately snatched the phone from her hand and walked quickly away after putting it to his ear. "O brother Yaqoob, you finally remember us lowlifes after so many years?", said the General with a laugh. "Sir, it's not like that. I just have been a bit busy that's all", Yaqoob responded with a similar humorous tone. "And now that I am retired, I waste my days fighting my wife? Is that you wanna say?", the General fired back.
"Do you not?", Yaqoob asked with a chuckle. "Of course, I do. The stars on my uniform can't save me here, my boy!", the General responded and let out a roar of laughter. The coarse laughter exhibited a life time of chain smoking. General Nasir had supervised the Commando group where Yaqoob had served and the General deserved a lot of credit for Yaqoob's mental and military training. Back then, he had been a Brigadier and accompanied the soldiers in the messy field work. But he got promoted to the desk jobs and Yaqoob retired early. Even when they were in the service, their relationship had been more friendly than professional. They both had a humorous conversation for a while and did a lot of catching up before Yaqoob got to the point.
"Sir, I might need a favor", politely submitted Yaqoob. "Oh yes, the favor of the Baaz! Why do you throw around you nickname from your military days?", asked the General. "How many Yaqoob's do you know?", asked Yaqoob. The General replied, "Maybe seven or eight"
"And how many of our enemies know our codenames?", Yaqoob asked rhetorically.
"We didn't leave any to tell the tale", the general replied anyway. "My point exactly", said Yaqoob. The daughters had run up to him and were pulling down his vest. They wanted him to interfere and decide who deserved to sit in the golden corner. He gestured his daughters to give him a minute and they ran back to the battlefield.
"Oh! And the favor?", asked the General expressively. Yaqoob went, "I presume that you know Sheikh Abdul Haadi from the Hizb ul Muballigheen. He needs my help in…"
The General interjected, "Yaqoob, I can't lie to you. We know"
It took Yaqoob a while to understand that the General was not talking about knowing Sheikh only. The General continued, "You were one of the best snipers and trackers we had had in decades. The time you retired was the time when the terrorist outfits were actively recruiting the talented veterans, trying to resell the rhetoric used for the Soviet war. When you started talking about religion and took an early retirement, we were afraid that you might end up joining the wrong side of the war. So, when you retired, we put surveillance teams on you to keep track. Once you joined Sheikh Abdul Haadi's organization, our boys stood down and let you be because that organization is probably the only non-controversial, non-militant, preaching organization in Pakistan. But we still keep tabs every once in a while".
Yaqoob was silent. "I am aware of the Soleiman affair. I am afraid we cannot intervene in the matter under the flag. But when I heard the news, I promised myself that I would do anything in my power to help him", General Nasir added.
Yaqoob saw this as his cue and hammered in his request, "All I need is a passage into the territory, I'll take care of the rest, inshallah".
After a long silence, General Nasir finally spoke, "That I can do, but on one condition. This has to be under the radar. No news headlines, no international law issues, we already have enough on our plates, understand?"
"Thoroughly. What can you arrange?"
"An Army cargo plane laden with medical equipment and medicine, bound for the land neighboring the territory you are after, leaves tomorrow morning. Luckily for you, the pilot and the crewmen know me. It lands right on the border and your destination region is situated just across the fence. You can easily infiltrate. The plane takes off from Rawalpindi".
"And the exfil?"
"An aid plane arrives and departs every six hours. I'll spread the word among my contacts. Just wait for a plane with one of my guys in it. I'll ask him to do something odd so you can get the signal. Exfil won't be a problem".
"Thank you very much sir, I'll come to Rawalpindi tonight. I'll never forget your help", Yaqoob said. "Just bring him back and get this over with", General said and concluded he phone call.
Yaqoob didn't need any help from his more than resourceful allies but he didn't want any unnecessary risks and didn't want this affair to stretch more than it had already been. Even if the General hadn't offered the infiltration, Yaqoob would have taken a passenger flight or fishing vessel to any place nearby but would have carried out the mission all the same. He dropped the phone in the baggy pocket of his ragged kurta and walked on with his bags on his shoulders.
The city was oblivious to the problems and crisis he and his colleagues were facing. Karachiites have a reputation of being hospitable and loving, while the city itself was as cruel as it gets. One of the most capable and kind hearted preachers was in deep grief in his end days because his best student and potential successor had gone missing in a hostile territory, Yaqoob himself was on his way to pull off almost a miracle of a rescue, yet Karachi didn't seem to care. The show went on. The city would go on with or without him. The city was bustling with lights and being torn apart by the loud horns. The laborers rushed to the bus stops, laden with their supplies. Time for Isha prayer had almost arrived and every speck of natural light had been withdrawn. Beggars rushed to the gates of the nearest mosque, awaiting the people coming for Isha prayers. He strolled on and decided to make the most of the long time-limit available to offer Isha prayer. Cars flew by him creating blurry yet bright and colorful trails of headlights, taillights and indicators. He strolled towards the bus stand and took a seat. Several people yelled and shouted at once as they all tried to empty off their carts for the day. The fruit vendors shouted better and better deals as time passed. There was pandemonium on the roads in the rush hour. No sane person would voluntarily jump in the roads of Karachi in the time of closing of offices. Even Yaqoob would have chosen some other hour if only he had the luxury to wait.
Half an hour later, an extravagantly decorated minibus that looked more like a south Asian bride than a transport, arrived and the conductor jumped out to cry out the destinations the bus was bound for. Among the destinations, Yaqoob heard him mention City Railway Station. He hopped into the bus and sent a goodbye text message to his home.