Bafna moved to the nearby television screen and took the remote to flip it on. The channel showed the latest news streaming in about the ongoing military operations in Kashmir.
“Have you seen this?” Bafna said as he increased the volume on one of the channels. Ravoof took a deep breath as the CNN crew from Islamabad talked about Pakistani government accusations. Islamabad was frothing at the mouth as they shouted to the world that India had declared all-out-war by striking airbases and military targets inside their side of Kashmir.
Ravoof turned to Bafna: “So what…”
“Wait. Hear this next bit.”
Ravoof sighed and then turned to the screen again. The reporter was talking about the death of a senior LET leader and his major commanders inside Deosai as well as the destruction of more than fifteen PAF combat aircraft. Reports of Indian helicopters operating inside Pakistani Kashmir and loss of hundreds of lives all along the line-of-control. Ravoof exhaled again when the reporter started talking about the massive Pakistani military mobilization as they prepared to retaliate. Bafna switched the television off just at that point and tossed the remote-control on to the couch.
“They exceeded the mandate that we set out for them!” He said finally. “And as a result, we are going to war!”
“Nonsense!” Ravoof snapped. “We may very well be going to war but it is not because of our military operations. The terrorists that struck Mumbai operated on their soil.” Ravoof pointed to the TV as though it were Pakistan itself. “The terrorists were being provided arms by Pakistani military personnel. We had nothing to do with it. We did not want to decimate their military forces inside Kashmir, but they are the ones who decided to use these forces to protect the terrorists. Effectively providing them shelter while Muzammil and his men moved freely declaring jihad against us. That man and his commanders are now dead. We did that! That was the mandate we gave our military. And in that our service-chiefs were successful! Don’t you dare try to pin this war, if it happens, on them!”
Bafna shook his head. “I see I have wasted my time coming here.”
“And what did you expect my response to be?” Ravoof leaned forward. “Did you expect an accomplice to partake in your misguided anger? I am sorry, my friend. But I have long since forgotten the political maneuverings required for survival in this party of ours. But I still retain enough mental faculty to decide in my country’s favor when it is needed.”
Bafna sighed and walked to the door, and then turned around: “do you think Islamabad will listen to reason and understand that we had to strike these terrorist locations after what happened to Mumbai?”
“Islamabad?” Ravoof noted and shook his head. “I think you meant Rawalpindi. And the answer is ‘no’. They knew exactly what they were ramping up when they decided to arm the jihadists with nuclear weapons. This is all a chain of events that is inevitable. Perhaps their expectation was that we would not respond. When we threatened to do it, it upset their plans and they decided to ramp up their forces in Kashmir to deter us.”
“And we struck anyway,” Bafna added neutrally.
“We did. We had to.”
“So what’s next?” Bafna said as he walked back in.
“They won’t back down. No matter what we say or do. It is a matter of ego to them now. They have been challenged and their prestige has been destroyed. The terrorist commanders are dead and their men will demand vengeance. If the Pak army backs down now, they will lose their heads to the sharp swords of their own jihadists.”
“There is nothing we can do to stop it?” Bafna asked.
“If there is anything to be learnt from the past seven decades,” Ravoof said with emphasis, “it is that the Pak army must be defeated on the battlefield in order for it to listen to reason. Don’t expect diplomacy to work on Generals with bruised egos. The young officers in their army who were humiliated in 1971, instigated the 1999 war. Those humiliated in the 1999 war are now in charge of this one. That’s how it goes in Rawalpindi.”
Bafna exhaled in frustration and looked out the windows: “what a bunch of morons.”
“Indeed.”
“What about Muzammil and his commanders?” Bafna said as he faced Ravoof again.
“What about him?” Ravoof said, careful with his choice of words now.
“How did we know where he and his commanders were? How did we kill them?”
“That is entirely out of my domain. I am not a military expert. Perhaps the service-chiefs or Basu can fill us in.”
Bafna nodded. “Yes, I think that would be best. Incredibly precise operation, that! No?”
Ravoof nodded silently. The man was correct. Bafna pounded his fist on the wooden desk: “goddamn it! We are going to war, aren’t we?”
“If not today, then next week. There is no way to tide this over without one!”
Bafna blurted out an expletive and walked out of the office, closing the doors behind him. Ravoof sat in silence collecting his thoughts. He had to anticipate Islamabad’s political moves on the world stage and counteract them to India’s advantage. Perhaps find a way to scare the Pakistanis enough to caused them to back away from war?
Perhaps.
He also made a mental note to try and find out from Basu on exactly what had happened to Muzammil…
“Is that him?” Basu asked.
Ansari nodded with a smile. “That’s our bastard.”
The two men watched as a group of Paras jumped down from the rear of the army truck and helped a man in salwar-kameez to get down. He was handcuffed and had a cover around his head to prevent him from seeing where he was. Pathanya saw the two senior men standing next to the lowered cargo ramp of the C-130J and walked over.
“Excellent work, major.” Ansari said casually.
“How did it go?” Basu asked out of curiosity.
“As well as could be expected, sir.” Pathanya replied. “We took one casualty. A bullet wound to the leg. He will recover. And we laid waste to a lot of senior terrorist commanders. So I would say it was a good night.”
“Indeed!” Basu added, with slight amusement in his voice. Pathanya turned to see Muzammil being bundled into the back of the aircraft and turned to Ansari: “what’s going to happen to him?”
“He,” Ansari said neutrally, “is going to tell us exactly where he got that nuclear warhead for Mumbai.”
Pathanya understood what that meant. This man had been assumed dead by the Pakistanis as well as by his remaining comrades. Nobody knew he was still alive and in Indian hands. Once Muzammil realized that too, there would be no incentive for him to hold back whatever he knew. He was not a prisoner of war. Neither was he a criminal. So what was he? Nobody. Just an anonymous body of intelligence for RAW and military-intelligence. Considering how many innocent people had died in Mumbai, Muzammil’s interrogators were not likely to be civil with him…
“Sir, what are my orders?” Pathanya asked Ansari.
“Pathfinder is still with us for the moment.” Ansari said as they watched the cargo ramp door being raised. “Depending on what that bastard reveals, we may have other targets to go after.”
Basu turned to face Pathanya: “Indeed. This isn’t over.”