Free LASHKAR by Mukul Deva

grave they had dug. He then placed her beloved daughter in her arms.
    Religion? War? Guns? Bombs? Jihad? Was there any point to it all? How much more futile can Man make life?
    Iqbal wished he could close his eyes and then open them and find himself home with his family. By the side of his near and dear ones to whom his life was precious. Nature kills so ruthlessly, without a thought to the suffering she inflicts. Nature had made her callousness clear. To her life was of little consequence.
    Iqbal stood among the debris of the countless dead and thought of the training he had undergone. To kill without compassion in the interest of a larger cause. Maybe Nature’s cause is larger than mine, Iqbal thought with a twisted smile.
    They finally managed to get the camp radio set fixed on the morning of the third day after the quake. Minutes later, the radio operator came rushing out to call Fazlur Rehman. Immediately the trainees were rounded up by the instructors and assembled in the centre of the camp. ‘Get ready to move out at once,’ the Maulana told them. ‘We move to another campsite within the hour.’
    ‘Apparently some international aid agencies are reaching the area,’ Abu Khan whispered. ‘It would not be politically correct for the training camp to be seen by any one of them.’
    No, obviously it would not , Iqbal thought to himself. Considering the fact that Pakistan expends so much breath and energy denying that any such training camps exist in their country.
    ‘Who cares as long as we can get out of here,’ he whispered back as they hurried off to gather their stuff.
    The move to the new camp was a painful, time-consuming exercise. Most of the roads and tracks had been badly damaged, some totally severed. The new campsite was located just a dozen miles from the Pakistan Army post at Chakoti along the LOC. They only reached there on the evening of the second day. The site was on coarse and jagged turf with no habitation of any kind close by. The settling in took up the three remaining weeks of their training period as everything in the camp had to be built from scratch. By now, all twelve recruits were looking forward to the end of training. This, despite the fact that they spent a lot of time worrying about the reality that awaited them on their return to India.
    Iqbal knew that the stress of their move back across the LOC overshadowed every other thought in all the trainees’ minds. Despite the danger of the trip Iqbal looked forward to going back home. He vowed to focus only on that and gloss over the gauntlet of cold steel, hot lead, barbed wires and mines that lay between home and him.
    1600 hours, 29 October 2005, Malviya Nagar Bus Stop, New Delhi.
    The two men comprising Team One of the Lashkar caught the bus plying on route 535 that was headed for Rajender Nagar via the Shivaji Stadium. They were both carrying almost identical-sized, but differently coloured canvas bags. Both bags had been lined with cardboard to give them a distinct shape. Both men handled their bags with extreme caution.
    Malviya Nagar being a popular and cheap market, the bus was overflowing and no one paid any heed to either of the men. In any case, people were carrying all kinds of baggage. When the ticket-collector came by both men bought their tickets separately.
    It took almost an hour for the bus to reach Shivaji Stadium, their final destination. Both men got off on the road and walked into the crowded terminus. Pausing briefly at the entrance the older man nodded to the youngster. ‘Go with God,’ he said softly.
    The youngster nodded. ‘ Inshahallah fateh hamari hogi …I will see you later.’ Then he turned and walked away towards the right of the bus station. The older man watched him for a while then turned and headed into the bus station in the opposite direction.
    *
    1708 hours, 29 October 2005, Shivaji Stadium Bus Terminus, New Delhi.
    Despite the fact that it was a Saturday and quite a few offices were closed in