Saffron Milk and a Game of Chess continues


‘Mehjabeen Khaala, this is the name of Qayyum’s mother. I fell at her feet. I said to her, “Ammi, congratulations, you gave birth to a lion, not a man of blood and flesh. Forgive me, Ammi, as I could not bring your son back alive from Kashmir."

But Qayyum’s mother scolded me. “You congratulate me and abuse me in the same breath? My son was Pakistan’s lion, and I am
proud that he laid down his life fighting the battle for the weak and innocent Kashmiris. If I had another son, I would have prepared him myself for his departure to Kashmir, to renew the battle his brother could not complete,” she said to me.  

‘The two brave-hearts are not here. They have been accepted in Paradise because of their sacrifice, while their mortal bodies are dragged from one mortuary to another in India. Let us pray for their souls.’ Abu-Lakhvi paused and took a sip of water before leading the gathering in prayers.

Even as Abu-Lakhvi was offering the prayer, many in the congregation were weeping openly. Tears were trickling down Abu-Lakhvi’s cheeks as well. 
The veteran of many a terror campaign, Abu-Lakhvi, who had had his first taste of guerrilla warfare when he led a band of mujahideens in Afghanistan in the 1980s against the ‘infidel, communist’ USSR army, was still deeply affected by the death of the two youths and did not make any attempt to hide his
mourning.

An hour later, in the basement of bungalow number D-13 in Khuda Baksh Enclave, Abu-Lakhvi met Atharv aka Imran and the other four CTC operatives. They had all just returned from Firdaus Masjid and Abu-Lakhvi’s grief was yet to lose its sharp edge. No one spoke for a few minutes. Finally, Abu-Lakhvi offered the five
boys glasses of saffron milk.

‘How was your experience at the Daura-e-Aam and Daura-e￾Khaas training, Imran?’ he asked.

To be continued.....