I look up at him for the first time and my appetite begins to disappear.
General Akhtar is decked up like a sacrificial cow, all golden braid and shiny medals. I am certain that he hasn’t gone to so much trouble just for his meeting with me. He is dressed to go to the party. Two men in uniform meeting over lunch: one all dressed up for the fourth of July bash, the other one on short leave from a Mughal dungeon.
Why eat before a party? I think. And he reads my thoughts. He is not the head of intelligence for nothing.
“I always eat before going to a party, you don’t know what you’ll get there. And today I’ve got two. We’re also holding the parade today for National Day,” he says, lifting one of the brass dishes. He picks up a quail from a pile of roasted little birds and pushes the dish towards me.
I put a little bird on my plate and stare at it for a long time as if hoping it will grow its wings back and fly away, but it lies there in its crisp brown skin, blackened at its joints.
“Look at me when I am talking to you,” General Akhtar says, staring at his plate. Then he lifts his head and gives me a fatherly smile as if the only thing he is concerned about is my table manners.
I look up and see a balding head and pale thin lips that have probably never uttered a word he really meant.
I hold my fork with one hand, and sneak my other hand under the table and squeeze my balls. I need the pain to remind myself of the context of this roast-bird feast.
The bird looks even tinier at the end of his retired boxer’s hand. A whole piece of breast goes into his mouth and he pulls out a bunch of cleaned bones from his thin lips. He smiles a yellow smile and dabs the corner of his thin lips with a starched white napkin.
“It’s not easy for me.” He picks up another dish cover and starts chewing on a slice of cucumber. “There is friendship and there is loyalty to one’s country. If you are not loyal to your father can you be loyal to a friend? See, we are both in the same boat.”
I am surprised at the rate at which this brotherhood is expanding.
I am also surprised that Dad used to call him General Chimp. Because the man’is, clearly, a reptile. Evolution took a wrong turn and this man ended up a mammal instead of growing scales and claws.
“I hope you are keeping him somewhere comfortable,” he says to Major Kiyani, who puts down his knife and fork and mumbles into his napkin. Something about the number of available rooms in the Fort.
“You put him in that shithole?” He looks at Major Kiyani with complaining eyes. “Do you even know who he is?” Major Kiyani puts his napkin back and looks up with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Did you ever work with Colonel Shigri?”
“No, sir, never had the pleasure. I did investigate the circumstances of the Colonel’s tragic demise. I think I helped out the young man here with the paperwork.”
“He was a man of principles. He lived his life by his principles and he died by his principles.”
The General’s sense of humour is not really helping my appetite. “But, my son,” he turns towards me, “what is evident here is that you have kept your dignity. Even in these difficult times you have held your head high.” He picks up an invisible breadcrumb from his lap. “And that, my dear son, comes from blood, from being of a good family. Your dad would have been proud, my son.”
Why the hell does he keep calling me ‘my son’? Even my own dad never called me ‘my son’.
“As you realise, it’s very difficult for me. On the one hand, there is my late friend’s son who has already seen enough tragedy in his life. On the other hand, there’s the security of the country, which is my responsibility.” He spreads his arms, pointing his knife and fork towards his chest, underlining the enormity of the task.
“What would you do in my position?”
I would stop stuffing my face with tiny birds while deciding someone’s fate, I want to say.
“I don’t know what you know, sir,” I say obliquely, throwing in a truckload of humility. “And I obviously don’t have the experience you’ve had.” I can see he wants to hear more so I throw in a punchline picked up from Secretary General’s perpetual grouse against me and my uniform. “That’s why you are where you are and I am where I am.” I don’t say what the comrade always says after that: we are both going blind and we will die without touching a woman ever again.
“I’ll tell you a story that might explain my dilemma,” says General Akhtar, “a true story. I was your age, a lieutenant in the Indian Army, must have been a couple of months before the partition. I was ordered to accompany a train full of Hindus going to Amritsar and I was told to make sure that it got there safe and sound.
“You must have heard about the trains from the Indian Punjab arriving in Lahore carrying Muslims. Full of cut-up bodies. All those stories about unborn children being carved out from their mothers’ wombs and their heads being put on spears were true. I didn’t see any myself, but I knew they were all true. But orders were orders, and I set off with the train, telling my platoon that every single passenger on the train was my responsibility.
“As soon as we left Lahore we encountered groups of people with machetes and sticks and bottles of kerosene trying to block the train, seeking their revenge. I kept sending them off with a wink. I told them that the security was the army’s responsibility. Our new country would need these trains. Let’s not destroy them. I kept talking to the passengers, reassuring them that I would get them to Amritsar. We were travelling at a snail’s pace. I was trying my best to keep the attackers at bay. But at some point the military training just took over. I knew what my new country wanted from me. I called my subedar major and told him that we would stop the train for the night prayers. I would go about two hundred yards from the train to pray. And I would come back after offering my prayer. ‘Do you know how long the night prayer is?’ I asked him. I didn’t listen to his answer. ‘That’s all the time you have,’ I said.
“You see, it was difficult but logical. I didn’t disobey the orders that I was given and what needed to be done was done with minimum fuss. I didn’t want any unborn children speared under my watch. But I also didn’t want to stand on the sidelines pretending to be a professional. History makes these great sweeps and unpleasant things happen. At least my conscience is clear.”
I have quietly pushed my plate away, the bird intact except for one half-chewed leg.
“My dear son, I’ll do anything in my power to get you out of this but what can I do for someone who is messing around with our national security? Do you even know where this friend of yours…” He looks towards Major Kiyani who interjects. “Obaid, sir, Obaid-ul-llah.”
“Yes, do you even know where he was headed?”
“I don’t know sir, I don’t know.”
“Well, we both know where he was going, but I am sure you had nothing to do with it. Now don’t disappoint me, do what is necessary.”
I want to know how they found out. I also want to know how far he managed to go. How did they get him? Surface-to-air missile? A sidewinder from a chasing aeroplane? Did he make a last call to the control tower? Any messages on the black box?
Baby O has left nothing except a bottle of perfume for me.
“You don’t have to do anything. Major Kiyani here will write the statement on your behalf. Sign it and I’ll take care of everything else. That’s General Akhtar’s promise to you. You can go back to the Academy and carry on your dad’s mission.”
What does he know about my dad’s mission?
I take the napkin from my lap and put my feet firmly on the ground.
“Sir, your people may not always be telling you the truth. I’ll carry out your orders but forget my case for a moment, there is this guy in the cell next to mine, the sweepers’ representative, who has been there for nine years. Everyone has forgotten about him, he has never been charged.”