RESONANCE (18 page)

Plymouth to Mumbai

The diver who
was working for Her Majesty's Naval Base completed his underwater explosive training. He returned to his regular duties and waited to hear from the agent. He had already procured a multiple-entry visa to India for one year.

After an eight-month long wait, he received an invitation from the Mumbai Scuba and Diving Club to be their guest instructor for a full week. The envelope contained a first class railway ticket of First Great Western from Plymouth to London, a two-day stay voucher at the Marriott Hotel in London, and a first-class flight ticket of British Airways from Heathrow to Mumbai.

The flight, BA 199 from London to Mumbai was most pleasurable. The diver indulged in the best of champagne and wine along with delectable seafood. When he expressed his desire to sleep, the flight steward prepared a fully flat bed and provided a single-piece quilted mattress, a duvet and a soft pillow. After a while the diver drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the wonderful life of sunny blue skies, inviting white surf and cool balmy breeze.

When the flight steward announced at noon that they were going to land and instructed everyone to fasten the sea-belt, the diver woke up, rubbing his bloodshot eyes and grunting that the ten hours had flown by so quickly. Striding across the terminal, like a 'British Lord', the diver reached the concourse and picked up his bags.

An old, dull brown Premier Padmini taxi was waiting for him. Displeased and rudely shocked, the diver had no choice but to get inside.

Instead of going to the diving club towards south Mumbai, it turned right from the Terminal 2 Airport and crossed the suburb. After crossing the tollbooth, it sped on to National Highway No-8. It stopped only once when the diver expressed his desire to attend to nature's call. The driver pointed out a small bush on the roadside for the diver to relieve himself. The taxi stopped again at a smelly
dhaba
where both the driver and the diver ate stale samosa and tea, frothing fumes with goat milk.

The diver looked outside, when the car stopped one more time at a police barricade. He asked the driver, "Where are we?"

The driver turned around, flashing his nicotine-stained teeth in a smile. "Welcome to Gujarat, sir."

Assemble Together

Sundaram Iyer rang
up Somashekhar Rao, "Be all ears. I'm being followed and it seems that my phones are being tapped."

"Come on man, who can tail a CBI man and dare to tap his phones?"Somashekhar laughed.

"Try to understand, every intelligence agency is in the business of playing with other agencies."Sundaram Iyer sounded livid.

"I think you are just being overcautious. Take it easy."

"Tell Parag to see me at the hotel."

"The same hotel?"

"Yes."

The line went dead. The special unit of IB hooked the line to tap the phone of Somashekhar Rao. The light in front of the panel turned green.

"Hi Parag! What's up?"

"I'm good. Everything has arrived in India except the man of the moment."

"Is he still in Dubai?"

"Yes. He seems to love Arabian Nights."

"When is he coming?"

"I don't know, buddy. Sundaram may be aware of it."

"Well, Sundaram has asked both of us to be at the hotel in a New York minute."

"At this hour? Isn't it a little late? You know I'm already facing a media-trial after that bloody road rage accident. I don't want to expose myself any further."

"You know you cannot deny Sundar's request. After all, he is helping you in the court matters."

"He can't help when the matter is before the Supreme Court. And there is no free lunch, my dear."

"But he has assured you ten million."

"Do you think Parag Nanda is worth only ten million?"Parag Nanda laughed. "I'm helping to complete his grand design for only one reason."

"To get you out off the hook of further investigation when the Supreme Court remands the matter back to the lower judiciary for reconsideration."

"Atta boy, you're getting intelligent!"

"No one can be cleverer than you. But I always trust Sundaram."

"Why trust him at all?"

"You remember he promised to get the refund of my bank guarantee encashed. Well, my company got the money back."

"Don't fool me. I don't see you happy merely because your company is getting some dough. Sundaram has obviously fattened you up."

"I have only got half."

"Why?"

"He is waiting for the water to boil."

Breakthrough?

On the request of the Indian Government, the NSA of the USA dug out the email exchanged between the terrorists groups of Pakistan during the Mumbai attack. The FBI had already achieved a major breakthrough when it located an email sent to a person asking him to carry out some new operation. "A new attack in India on Pakistani Radar"caught the attention of Siddhartha. He dug in for more. There was a reply mail, mentioning the subject, "Their Mad Life."

"What could be the meaning of 'Their Mad Life'?Whose life is mad?"Siddhartha clicked on a pdf file attachment. What opened up was something unintelligible.

Siddhartha called his Systems Expert, "The file attachment seems to be highly enciphered. However, look at these symbols. They represent the
rashis of Jyotish
, the zodiac signs of Indian mystical astrology."

"Intriguing, sir."

Lahore to Nepal

Only seven of
the Jihadists could pass the training programme in Lahore. Three of them failed not because they could not learn everything taught to them: the Sanskrit verse, Hindu mythological stories, about Hindu gods and goddesses, the methods of offering,
bhajan, kirtan
, and other rituals. They had answered perfectly well during the interview, but because of some very minute imperfections they were rejected.

The first one failed, when the teacher asked him, "Will you kill them?"

And he replied, "
Insha
Allah."

The second was shown the door, when the teacher asked him, "Who constructed Babri Masjid?"

"The Emperor Babar."

The third replied perfectly to everything. The teacher asked, "Will you kill them?"

"The Hindu never kills his brother and father."

"Who constructed Babri Masjid?"

"The place is not
Babri Masjid
. We, the disciples of God razed the unholy structure of the Muslims many years back. It's
Ram Janmabhoomi
."

"Good."The teacher was impressed, till he asked the final question, "Will you visit Ajmer Sharif?"

"I won't."

"Why?"

"Sufism is a mystical expression of Islam. Hindus don't go to Muslim Dargāhs."

The teacher was furious, "Go to Ajmer Sharif and see how many Hindus visit the Dargāh. You will forget the count. And now clear from your memory whatever we taught you about the Hindu religion. You're out!"

The other seven were perfect.

The snow had melted and come down in cascades in the month of April. The Indo-Pak Kashmir border that had brought Aban into India became unfit for the seven infiltrators to enter unnoticed.

Each of them was a first time flier and their only experience with planes was that of watching those iron birds, streaking across the sky with open-mouthed wonder. They were handed their boarding passes and the agent motioned them to move on to the security check. One of them discovered that once they had stepped into security, they were on their own. The agent had abandoned them. As word spread across the group, each glanced nervously at the other. When asked to board the bus outside the boarding gate, most of them looked confusedly at their boarding passes. What kind of cheats were these bigwigs, who gave them tickets for a plane and were forcing them to make their journey on a bus! Cursing the thugs and feeling thoroughly cheated, the youths sat crestfallen in their seats. To their utter surprise, the bus stopped in front of the plane. "Allah be praised,"they were finally on the plane, the Gulf Air flight number GF 765 from Lahore to Nepal via Bahrain.

They slipped into their respective seats of the economy class, deliberately choosing seats in different rows away from each other. While a few dozed off after some time, the others gazed at the landscape and sea from the windows. Yet others ogled at the beautiful airhostesses, whenever they found the opportunity. These perfect pictures of servitude were dedicated to them, completely at their beck and call. One starry eyed youth stared smilingly at one of the pert girls. He felt like a Sheikh in a harem, surrounded by doe-eyed, half covered, half unclad belles, who served wine as their hips swayed to the lilting background of Persian music. He drank deep from the divine beauty. "
Jannat
cannot be far away at this altitude."he thought to himself. Those whose eyes were blinded by these dazzling beauties, complained and grumbled, since the female flight crews were not in burqa.

But they all had one thing in common. Whenever a turbulent air pocket hit the aircraft, all of them screamed, without exception, in a chorus. Each one would clutch the seat handle tight and those who could, would start muttering prayers. "
Ya Allah! Yeh dua kubul kar. Hamari salamati barkarar rakh. Hamari hifazat tere hath mein. Humein mehfooz rakh. Humein dozakh ka bhagirdar na bana."
(Oh God! Please accept our humble prayer. Keep us safe and protected. Our existence is in your hands. O Kind One! Send us not to Purgatory, that burning hell)

Those giddy with fear could only think that they were being punished for learning the rituals and the ways of the
kafirs
: the infidel Hindus, the pagans, the
butparasts,
the damned idol worshippers. Alas, they had been defiled and could not even hope for repentance!! Oh! Why did not the
khauf
of Allah, the wrath of God, deter them!

When the aircraft steadied, each one would send a thousand thanks to the Lord Almighty, to Allah the Great. "
La ilaha illallah Muhammadur Rasulullah. Allah-u-Akbar
."
(In the name of Allah, We praise Him, seek His help and ask for His forgiveness. Whoever Allah guides, none can misguide… )

Sumptuous food was yet another surprise for these first-time air-travelers. A few blinked at the male stewards and whispered in their ears, "If it is possible,
Janab
to slip in some wine?""Absolutely, sir. No problem sir."The pat acquiescence was music to their ears. To these strapping Punjabi youth, the small servings of
biryani
simply served to whet their appetites in such a way that 'the giving famished the craving'. Some of them, therefore, quietly offered to pay a little extra for some more of the aromatic grains of rice.

The monotony of the vast Arabian Sea did not deter a few of them from continuously looking outside. These young men had no hunger because the persistent queasiness in their stomachs prevented them from thinking of anything, but the fact that they were thousands of feet in the air. They would have given anything to feel
terra firma
under their feet.

At the close of the day, the aircraft landed at Tribhuvan International Airport in Kathmandu. A bus was waiting for this medley mix of both happy and sad youth.

They mingled with the Hindu devotees, who were on a pilgrimage on the occasion of the Kumbh Mela.

An eight-hour drive took them to Birganj at the Indo-Nepal border. The immigration officer checked their identity cards that made them residents of remote villages in Nepal. He chanted, "
Jai Sri Ram
."

In a chorus, all seven responded, "
Sita Ram
."

The Immigration officer smiled and casually allowed the bus to pass through the porous border. The Indian officers smiled at them when they started to sing
Bhajans
and
Kirtan
together. The bus dropped them off at the Raxaul railway station.

With the sure earth under their feet, they all felt reassured, and ate heartily at the local restaurant.

The Sadbhawana Express whistled and stopped at platform number one. All of them boarded the train, which slowly pulled up, chugging pleasantly towards the west.