The Timeless Conjecture

It was 3 in the afternoon. Something was different about today.

He sat on his table looking out of the window. It had been 6 hours since he was sitting there. Staring through those clouds. As if waiting for something to happen. But it wasn't helping at all. But he remained patient and had faith. He was adamant on reaching a solution today.

He was 40 years old. He had carried this burden on him for quite a while,now. He couldn't live with it any more. Allah wouldn't accept him if he didn't sort this thing out for himself. The elongated face was filled with sweat droplets. The fan was switched off. Nothing was moving in the house. It was still and silent. He swept his hand across his face to clear the sweat. The kurta was also wet. One could see the body beneath it, the balck torture marks, the huge cuts on the back as if it were whipped a million times. He looked into the mirror at the table. The mole on his right cheek was something that he was always ashamed off. Today, he seemed to be at peace with it.

Finaly, he made his decision. He thought of finishing it today, for those people who lie for a living and kill millions of people to make money for themselves; for those who never say a word even though they see this happening; for those who play mind games; and last but not the least... for himself.

With all his will power, he took out his cell phone from his pocket. He typed the number. Before dialing, he thought one last time. And then muttered to himself, "lets bring them to dust." he dialled the number.

" Hello? yes. who is that?", said the frail, skinny voice on the other line.
" Is that Poonam?", he said.
" Yes. This is. May i know who is that?".
" I have to meet you in an hour. Come to 1st floor, 3/32, Gulmohar park. Its urgent."
" But i have another appointment. I have to interview Liaqat Ali in the evening. I have to set it up.", said Poonam.

"I have something that can change the way you look at journalism. Gulmohar park. Before 5. Trust me, you'll repent not coming."

And he cut the call.

He had done his research on Poonam, the 22 year old journalist who worked with Clive and Colemann co. ltd. She was young and wasn't interested in bribes. Her father was a retired lieutenant colonel. She was in this profession to make a change. And he knew that. She was the only one, he thought, who could do justice to his intentions.

He went to the almira. And took out his 9mm Beretta. It was dismantled. He assembled it. He took out the nylon cloth, wiped each bullet whose head was gold and the rest of the body was silver. He had a full packet of bullets. He started filling it in. He filled in 3 bullets and realised it was too much. He removed 2 bullets and let one be in the magazine of the automatic pistol.
"Excess is not good for health", he chuckled.

Then he made another phone call.
" Ramazan bhai. I had placed an order 5 days ago. I need it today.", he said.

" Yes. Its ready. Shall i give it now?"

" No. Give it in about 2 hours. Thank you."

It was 4:45 now. The bell rang. He unlocked the door.

" Poonam Sanyal. I got a call from here.", she said showing her ID.
" Yes ma'am. I only called you. You're alone?"
She nodded and was invited inside the house.

Her brown eyes were searching the place for clues to her reason of being here. She found none.

" Okay. Since you are a journalist, I presume you have a note pad with you. Please take it out.", he asked her calmly.

" Yea sure. But before that can i have some water please?"

" No. I dont have time. Please- lets start. I cant live with this anymore."
" Okay. No problem. What do you have to tell me?", said the rather furious Poonam.

And he started. With every word, he unwinded himself. As if just leaving everything.

" So- i'm going to tell you something that is very important. You must believe me. I'll give you the proof later. Just listen now.

My name is Ashfaq Pasha. I'm a ex-member of the ISI. I specialised in field ops. Dont search for me in their database. You wont find me because I was deleted from there. I shall explain to you why, a little later. I'll start fromm the very beginning...."

" Ahh. listen, MR. Pasha. I told you I have an appointment today. Please finish as soon as possible. I have to take care of other things also.", said poonam in a if-i'm-not-interested-can-i-go tone.

" Your mother is at her sister's house. You have made rajma today for dinner.Sandeep's office is closing early today. He'll call you for dinner. You'll give the rajma to Kanta bai tomorrow morning. So- dont lie to me, you have only one thing to take care- LIAQAT ALI! And i shall do everything i can to finish early."

" But how do you know....", she said

" Ma'am. As I said I dont have time for this.", he said in his heavy voice. It was granulated.

She nodded. And sat in a posture as if she was interested. She heard him carefully now. He had earned his credibility.

" It started in 1988. I was the lieutenant general at Poonch district in Kashmir. One night I got a call from the then commander-in-chief, Aslam Beg. He said that today he was going through gallantry personnel records and he noticed mine. He then pulled up his high school photos and then realized that we were together in high school.He thought he was obliged to serve my needs first and then the others. And so he gave me an offer"

" What offer?", she said, her interest growing.

" He told me that he would see to it that my branch was transferred to ISI where I could work from an air- conditioned office and triple my earnings if in return I would allow a group of 100 people to cross the border to the indian side.
I told him that even if I were not to allow. He could send them by plane. He said he couldn't. He had some limitations. And this work was important. I thought of it for a moment and then agreed. And soon there were people crossing from this side to that while we cover fired the Indians. And they thought that we were violating the ceasefire norms. Fools. Huh.

So- I was now posted in Rawalpindi.

A few years passed. Me and Aslam Beg became good friends. We talked and discussed a lot of confidential things. We were influencing each others decisions now. He suddenly started trusting me. I thought this friendship was pretty normal but I didn't know he had an inferior motive behind all this. Until I found out.

It was spring 1990 when Liaqat Ali, the husband of Akleem Akhtar- yes the president of Pakistan, was sent to jail on curruption charges. The politics had become very bad. Shareef sahib was wanting to be seated on the chair but the other parties didn't want him. So- he was lying about one party to another. I dont know how he managed it- but it seemed really genuine. And so 6 months later Mrs Akleem was impeached on grounds of corruption.

I was in the chief security staff of Akleem. She knew me well and always wanted me beside her. She trusted me-literally- with her life. The day she was impeached, she called me and asked me if I thought she was corrupt and I denied it firmly and I must admit I was true then. She couldn't have done that. I was convinced that Liaqat was the one at fault but she wouldn't believe that also. She thought even he was framed. But I think he was at fault and thats why he rotted in jail for 8 long years.

Akleem akhtar went to Dubai under self imposed exile with her son, her husband still in jail.

I was saturated with this politics. I didn't want to be a part of a system like this. Besides, I had earned enough to live life and still leave some behind. I approached Aslam Beg and asked him to have me shifted back to field ops. I passed the required tests and was all set to go. Until one night Beg came to my house.

It was 12 and he came in his uniform with his 2 body guards. I was supposed to leave the next night for Naushera towards Kashmir. I thought he came to bid me farewell. But it was far from that.

He told me that I was one of the few good brains left in ISI then and that he needed me in various other places.

At that time there was a nuclear crisis where a few political people were involved in selling Pakistan's nuke tech specs to various countries. My work was simple- to locate them and kill them. He would give me the names of the people. I would get a huge sum of money and whatever resources i needed to complete the operation.

Only, there was one googly to this whole thing. The Pakistan government wouldn't authorize such a mission. It was impossible to do so. Hence, i would have to be removed as a member of isi and do this as a freelence, indepandent assassin. He guaranteed help but he said he couldn't make it official. I would be alone on this mission.

I obviously didnt accept it at first because I had made enough money but then he started threatening my family. I don't have a wife but I have a joint family who live close to Quetta. They love me a lot and so do I. Aslam Beg threatened to kill them. That bastard!

I had to give in. Finally. That is the reason why you wont find me anywhere in the records of this country. Officially, I'm not even a citizen of this country.", he said expecting compassion from the other. None granted. She was still listening to him and expected him to move on.

"I did his jobs and he kept giving me more and more of them. There was a time when I was scared of my own shadow.
Once I was in Abu Dhabi- to take down the owner of a casino because they wanted to stop funding Pakistan's military drone project.
And there I saw Akleem Akhtar. She was having dinner with some dignatories. She seemed to be my only hope. I followed her to her room and enquired. She was living alone. I had access to the intercom of the hotel where she was staying. I called her up and told her that I wanted to meet her. She recognised me and she agreed.

I told her everything I had to. She said that a year later, she was planning to come back to Pakistan and that she would ensure that I'm her guard. I thanked her, completed my mission and came back..

About 2 years later- I was standing next to MRS AKHTAR again. Now, we had a different relation. I wanted to approach her many times to tell her about what I felt about Liaqat Ali, her husband. I knew for sure- he was misusing her. I felt that I should tell her but I knew she wouldn't believe me without proof. And that tall, lean son of a bitch was good at his work. He didn't leave any tails behind.

Elections were near and campaigning started. By this time, me and Beg also built up on our relation. He had appologised to me and explained to me why he did what he did. I found it difficult to confront him at first but then I learnt to do it the diplomatic way. We met and had drinks and became friends.

About 4 months ago- 6th october march 2005. It was the last day of campaign. Mrs Akhtar had recieved good reviews till now. It seemed as if people were supporting her. I was beside her all the time. I wanted to see her there. I wanted her to get what she deserved.

She was giving her speech at Islamabad. After her speech was over- Liaqat was supposed to address the gathering. But he wasn't to be seen anywhere. Mr beg was there in the audience and I was standing on the stage. He signalled me to go check in the loo. As I was going, I saw Liaqat coming out of the loo. He looked a little uneasy but smiled when he looked at me.

I told him that it was time for him to address the gathering. He agreed and on the way he told me, " Ashfaq! Akleem is getting an amazing support. Before she leaves the venue, ask her to stand outside the van and wave to audience. They'll love it. "

" But sir, ma'am's car is fully closed. How will she stand?"

" No. Not her car. Ask her to get in the gypsy. It is fully covered except the top can be slid and she can be seen. Atleast her torso onwards she will be visible. Just tell her to do it. Then we'll ensure our victory"

And he left me with those words. I coudn't make a decision then. When we sat in the car. The crowd was all around us and we couldn't move because the police was busy clearing people of our car. I thought ma'am could capitalise on this time. I asked her to stand up. She thanked me for that idea. And asked me to open the top. So i did and then...."

" and then a sniper at the north-west corner shot her right through the forehead. and she fell back in the car. correct?", Poonam finally broke her silence.

" Yes. That part the whole world knows. No one knows how it happened. This is the truth. This is the reality. Liaqat Ali is the current president of this country- so i heard in the news. Not even 3 months and he is already the chairman of Akleem's party and the president of this country."

" So- are you suggesting that....?", asked poonam

"Yes- that is exactly what I'm suggesting. The president of this country is a murderer and I have proof. Its going to be a major political feud, I know. I had to tell someone this and now its in your hands to bring it to justice. They are behind my life. I somehow ran away from the scenario then. But they know I have figured this out. They'll do anything to kill me. But I'm not ready to die like this. I want to die with dignity and respect."

He gave her a pair of keys and a box. About the size of a palm.

"These are the keys to this box . Proof is in that. It has tape recordings and stuff. Open it only when you go home or office. Please let people know about this."

She closed her notepad and with the box and kept it in her bag.

" I'll do whatever I can.", she said.

She didnt know if all this was true or even possible. Making such an accusation on the president was a big deal in itself. She had to take the decision.

She opened the gate and she stepped out. She turned back to close it and saw him for the last time. He was still staring at her. Tears in his eyes. He wasn't blinking. Something was wrong, she thought. Something was missing. But she left it at that.

Poonam had to inform her office that she wouldn't be able to interview Liaqat Ali. so on the staircase- she was walking down slowly out of the building, trying her office via a cell phone when she heard a gun shot.

She ran up and saw Ashfaq Pasha with a shining silver Beretta in one hand and the other on his chest lying on the floor in a pool of blood. He had shot himself in the head. She had never seen a dead man before. She was shocked. She slid down the wall and sat with her head in her arms, her knees were folded.

Suddenly someone rang the bell of the house. Poonam got scared. she didnt know what to do.

Did Beg come to know about this encounter? Was Liaqat after her life also? Was the police here? Will they frame her for murder?

She was clueless.

Very reluctantly, she opened the door. It was Ramazan bhai.
He said, " Madamji, is Kareem sahib at home?"

Poonam was shocked for a minute.

Kareem? Probably he wanted to hide his identity-so he changed his name- she thought.

" No....i mean no. He isn't, what do you want?", she said controlling her shiver.

" He had asked for this packet in the morning. Please give it him.", Ramazan said as he handed over something wrapped in a newspaper. It was the same packet that Ashfaq had asked for Ramazan to bring a few hours ago.

She grabbed it with one hand and shut the door.

She wanted to see what it was. Proof for the murder? Real identity of the Ashfaq/Kareem? What exactly?

She opened it. It was neatly polished medal. "Nishan-e-Haider", she recognised it. Her father was also in the army. It was the highest military award.

The packet also had a white, cotton cloth. Pretty long.

......White cotton cloth is what the dead are wrapped in....

It was all very creepy. She didn't know what was happening. Immediately she realised she had the box and the keys.

She took it out and opened it. It had nothing but a note. The note read:-

" I dont have any proof as I had not forsighted such an outcome. But I assure you its the truth. All truth that I could look for is destroyed. Please do something about it."

She sat there. In that room with green walls staring at the medal. She couldn't comprehend anything. She didn't know what to do.

Poonam walked down to her car. She tried to link everything she experienced while battling the shock and disgrace she was in. But no result.

She didnt know what to do. She didn't know if she could live not telling this truth to anybody or if she chooses to tell how she would conclusively prove it.

She went home and couldn't sleep that whole night. She kept staring at the moon. Fan off. Face was sweating.

The next morning she called her senior journalist," Seema ma'am. Please come home as soon as possible. I have to tell you something very important."

She then walked into her father's room. Her father was in the army. she opened his cupboard and took out his colt .45 revolver. She inserted one bullet in it and waited for Seema to come.......