The Black Rainbow Read online

  Chapter 5

  It was 11 in the morning. People were busy buying and selling in one of Lahore’s largest markets, which was famous for offering a wide range of consumer items at low prices. Arbaz, a 16-year-old, was about half a kilometer from the market’s entry point.

  “Today is going to be the most important day of my life,” he murmured to himself. “I’ll fulfill the noble mission for which I was born and then the paradise will be my abode forever. Fortunate are also the people who have been chosen by Allah to help me fulfill that mission. Their sacrifice will wash away their sins and God’s mercy will shower on them. May Allah help me!”

  With such thoughts, Arbaz entered the market and began looking for the target. He was instructed to explode the bomb that he was carrying at such a point where it could result in maximum number of casualties. The greater the number of casualties, he was told, the nobler would be his action in the eye of God and the higher will be the reward in the hereafter. Security personnel were also standing there and he walked through them unnoticed.

  “So qari sahib was right in telling me that the police will not stop me as I’ll be invisible to them,” Arbaz said to himself. “Martyrdom is my destiny and no one can obstruct my way.”

  In few minutes, he found his target. It was a long row outside a public utility store where grocery items were sold. “Allah-o-Akbar,” Arbaz shouted and then pushed the button in his suicide jacket. Before the people could understand, there was a huge explosion.

  The news of the blast spread in the city in no time. There was huge panic and commotion in the market. Blood and bodies could be seen everywhere. Soon law enforcement personnel, media persons and ambulances reached the spot. Later, in the evening, the authorities confirmed that the at least fifty people were killed in the explosion while scores were injured. A militant organization claimed responsibility for the incident.

  While the friends and families of the victims were mourning their death, and those of the injured and the missing were concerned about their safety and whereabouts, life was as usual in the rest of the city as if nothing had happened. A fashion show was held in a five-star hotel that very evening, which was well attended by the elite of the city. Catwalk by slim and smart models wearing dresses designed by a bigwig of the fashion industry was followed by exhibition of various items of the beauty industry. A corps of media persons was also present not merely to cover the event but also because the chief minister of the province had graced the occasion.

  “Now I invite our chief guest, the honorable chief minister for his concluding remarks,” said Mrs Alvi, the organizer of the fashion show.”

  The aging chief minister, who was still in thrall of the revealing models, cleared his throat and began, “I congratulate Mrs Alvi and other members of the Fashion Association for staging this wonderful event. At a time when the country is passing through a difficult phase, the holding of such colorful events sends out an eloquent message to the anti-state elements that our brave people will not be cowed by their nefarious activities. I trust the Association will continue holding such galas — and will also invite me. Thank you.”

  “Excuse me sir, but don’t you think the fashion show should have been postponed, as a mark of solidarity with the victims of today’s explosion?” asked one journalist.

  “You probably weren’t listening to my speech,” the chief minister said. “Such events give a clear message to the terrorists. Earlier in the day, I visited the hospital and asked after the injured persons. They are in a great spirit. The same spirit I saw here,” he added stealing a look at a barely dressed model.

  “Mr Chief Minister,” said Mr Naqvi, who was covering the event as a VIP engagement, “while the city is bleeding, we are amusing ourselves with catwalks. If this sends any message, it’s only to the people that the government neither can protect them nor stands by them in their hour of trial. It’s like playing at the flute while Rome burns.”

  The Chief Minister looking visibly angry at the remark said,” Naqvi sahib you’re a seasoned journalist but I’m afraid I’m disappointed that you pass such remarks. The government is doing all it can to protect the people. But as you know, acts of suicide terrorism are difficult to stop. And may I repeat that earlier in the day I visited the hospital and remained with the injured people for more than an hour. Moreover, we will give half million rupees to the heir of every deceased and one hundred thousand rupees to each injured. What more do you want?”

  ”Mr Chief Minister you know and I know that money cannot compensate for life. What people want of you is to give attention to their problems and the foremost among them at present is security,” Mr Naqvi not satisfied with the answer returned.

  “We’re alive to our responsibilities. We the elected representatives always keep our finger at the pulse of the people,” the chief minister replied in a crisp tone.

  Before Mr Naqvi or any other journalist could speak further, the chief minister’s staff officer intervened. “No more questions please. The honorable CM is to chair an important meeting on law and order shortly,” he said.

  Maulvi Zia was in a jubilant mood. The bomb explosion had achieved results more than he had expected.

  “This is the nice beginning of our plan. With couple of other acts like this, we’ll bring the government to its knees and force it to negotiate with the mujahideen. Now we’ll put into effect part two of the plan. We’ll call an all-party conference, which will demand an immediate halt to the military operation,” Maulvi Zia said to Rubina.

  ”The government says they’re in high spirits. I saw the chief minister on the TV in a fashion show,” Rubina looking at Zia said.

  ”I know that old rascal and the bunch of bastards around him,” Maulvi Zia in utter contempt remarked. “They’re good for nothing imposters interested only in wine, women and wealth. They’re spiritually barren, intellectually desolate and psychologically impotent. They don’t know what it means to have a spirit.”

  “So there should be no cause for concern?” Rubina asked.

  ”It’s not these people who make me concerned. On their own, they’ll never dare to fight us. The source of my concern is the forces that are making the government fight against us.”

  “Who are these forces?

  “The forces which are opposed to Islam. They have always been and will always be so. They have recruited Muslims in their ranks as well. The same forces, which centuries ago stopped the expansion of Islam. The same forces which a few years back toppled the Taliban regime in Afghanistan. The same forces which have almost taken over our country. The government is no more than a puppet in their hands,” observed Maulvi Zia.

  Before Rubina could pose another question, Maulvi Zia interrupted her. “It’s enough for now. Let’s talk about something nicer and refiner.”

  The bomb blast in the politically sensitive city of Lahore alarmed the government. An immediate inquiry was ordered into the incident. The prima facie evidence revealed that the blast was suicide and the culprit, who died on the spot, was aged between 15 and 20. The prime minister himself visited the scene and assured that the perpetrators would be dealt with an iron hand. “Nothing would attenuate our resolve to fight and defeat extremism,” he declared.

  “Should not the government step down for failure to protect the people?” asked one journalist.

  “No!” the PM categorically stated. “The change in the government would only make things worse.”

  In the federal capital, an emergency meeting of the heads of law enforcement and spy agencies was called with the interior minister in the chair. After exchange of pleasantries, the minister referring to the Lahore incident remarked whether that was not a security lapse.

  “I am afraid it is,” admitted the head of a security agency candidly. But you know minister our priority is to safeguard key government installations and VIPs; and thank God, both are safe.”

  “But we’re a democratically elected government and responsible to the people. If we fail to pr
otect them, they will not vote for us in next elections. Besides, we need the support of the people to defeat the extremists.”

  ”Sir you’re right,” the interior secretary chipped in, “but we’re short on resources. Most of the policemen have been deployed on the security of ministers, top politicians, foreign diplomats and strategic places. Every one who matters in the country wants special security for himself and his family. We can protect either the lords or the commoners but not both.”

  “We need to protect both.” Why don’t we recruit more people to our security agencies?” asked the interior minister.

  “I have already discussed this with the finance ministry. But the problem it that since we are facing revenue crunch, creating more jobs may not be possible,” replied interior secretary.

  “I’m well aware of the constraints of the government,” said the minister. But we have to find a way out. If you people cannot do this, then I’m afraid I’ll have no option but to replace you.”

  “Rest assured sir, we’ll definitely find a way out. But we also need to explore the other option. I mean to engage the militants in negotiations,” said the interior secretary.

  “If I correctly recall, this option was well discussed before the counter-terrorism policy was announced,” said the minister in a sharp tone. “The broad agreement among the decision makers was that we’ll negotiate with the militants only if they lay down their arms. That option is still on the table. However, unconditional offer of ceasefire to the militants will not only give them the time to strengthen themselves but also send a wrong message to the world as to our commitment to fight terrorism.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” the interior secretary nodded embarrassingly.

  “What about monitoring of the madaris?” the minister asked.

  “That’s being done by the provincial governments. The problem is that several of the madaris are owned by political allies of the government. We have reports that Arbaz, the boy who exploded himself in Lahore the other day, was recruited by a famous seminary belonging to a key political ally of your party. Your permission was sought to raid the seminary, which you declined,” the interior secretary explained.

  “Politically that wasn’t possible. But definitely we can keep an eye on the activities of other madaris.”

  “Sir lesser madaris don’t pose a danger. It’s the bigger ones that constitute the threat. But due to political constraints we have to think twice before acting against them,” the interior secretary tried to bring home to the minister his point.

  “May I speak sir?” asked a senior bureaucrat.

  ‘Yes Mr Munir,” the minister assented.

  “Sir, I have had the opportunity to closely study the activities and curricula of the madaris. In my humble view, we cannot monitor the activities of the madaris. Either we have them or we don’t have them. There’s no intermediate choice. It’s impossible for anyone to study in a seminary and not to learn religious bigotry and nurture antithetical feelings towards other creeds. I don’t know of any seminary, which doesn’t teach that killing members of the rival creed is a religious duty, whose reward is a never-ending life of perfect happiness and bliss in the hereafter. Most of the extremists are recruited by these seminaries. We may kill a few hundred extremists today but thousands more will be produced tomorrow,” the veteran bureaucrat said.

  “You may be right,” admitted the minister, “but closing down madaris as a root and branch remedy is not possible for us. We must also appreciate that these seminaries provide totally free education something which even the government doesn’t and can’t do.”

  “But sir what kind of education do they provide. Don’t they glorify death, sanctify violence and justify militancy. Yes the accounting cost of the education provided by the madaris may be zero but its social cost is enormous.”

  The Minister looking askance at Munir said, “I respect your experience but your suggestion is simply impracticable. You know there are a number of madaris in my own constituency. Do you want my voters to turn away from me in next elections? Any other view?”

  The interior secretary sensing the minister’s mood said, “Sir you have made the right observations. We‘ll do only what is permitted by political expediency. And I assure you to check the incidence of terrorism. And if God forbid this is not done, we will hand in our resignations.”

  “This is the spirit I like,” remarked the minister and rose from the chair signaling the end of the proceedings.

  Chapter 6

  “Your tea father,” said Farzana to Babu Javed as she put his cup on the table.

  “Thanks dear,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Yes father.”

  “What I’m going to speak would have been done by your mother were she alive. But as things are, I’ll have to talk to you. Coming straight to the point, I think it was high time you got married. You know I work for an intelligence agency and risk my life every day. If you get married, I’ll discharge the greatest obligation of my life, which weighs heavily upon my heart.”

  “If you say so father,” Farzana assented obediently.

  “That’s like a good girl,“ Babu Javed said with a smile. “You know my friend Barrister Aziz. His son Rashid is a promising lawyer and they are interested in you. I think he’ll be a good match for you.”

  “Father I have always respected your views. But here I’m afraid I cannot. You know I love Ali and cannot think of marrying anyone but him.”

  “If you had named anyone else, I might have given it a thought. But Ali! He’s a good for nothing idiot, who may never be able to earn a single penny. Suppose every young man on this earth dies and Ali is the only one who survives, even then I wouldn’t let you marry him.” Babu Javed responded in so many words.

  “You have always misunderstood Ali. He’s more intelligent, gentler and well mannered than anyone else. I think he has a very successful career open to him. Besides, we come of the same family and uncle Naqvi and auntie Fatima look upon me as their daughter,” Farzana tried to convince her father.

  “You’re talking nonsense! Ali’s not intelligent, he is only confused; he’s not gentle, he’s only coward; he’s not well mannered, he’s only shy. I don’t think he can ever embark on any career with any degree of success. I say this because I know his family too well. As for your love for him, it’s only a passion of the youth and will die down soon. Think over it and next time talk like a sensible girl.” With those remarks, Babu Javed withdrew.

  Babu Javed’s words discomforted Farzana. She knew it would be difficult to solicit her father’s approval for her match with Ali. At the same time, she couldn’t conceive of marrying anyone else. The greater problem for Farzana however was that Ali never responded to her overtures. She suspected that she had aroused in him feelings for her but as long as he didn’t confess of the same, she couldn’t be sure. If Ali was with her, she could always take a firm stand. But if he was not behind her, it would be difficult for her to resist his father. What should she do? She wasn’t sure. But suddenly, it occurred to her that she should speak to Mrs Naqvi about that. Already she knew of her love for Ali.

  So Farzana went to Mrs Naqvi and made her abreast of the situation.

  “Farzana I understand the enormity of the situation and being a woman I can also appreciate how you feel,” Mrs Naqvi told her. “In fact, years ago, I was placed in a similar predicament. My father would not allow me to marry Hassan come what may. But I took the decision, easily the most difficult decision of my life. And to date I have no regrets except that my father is not willing to see or even talk to me. I know how difficult it’s to be away from one’s parents. But that was the price I had to pay for my love for Hassan. However, I‘ll see that you don’t have to pay that heavy a price. Don’t worry I’ll talk to Hassan and together we’ll talk to your father.”