Chapter-16 In the Den of Lions

The next day, a rickety old Russian jeep was made available for my grueling journey on the bumpy road into the Farkhar valley towards Masood's base. Soon I found myself inside a huge compound which obviously was an ex-Soviet or Communist military base with lots of broken down artillery pieces and armoured cars scattered over a wide area. The complex was surrounded by boundary walls and had many stone structures. I had arrived at my destination, now I had to find the Pakistanis. I carried my backpack and walked into the compound where I was warmly welcomed and greeted by the Mujahideen who noticed my arrival. The environment was relaxed and I walked casually among the Mujahideen. Where are the Pakistanis? I enquired, and was directed towards the edge of the compound where a couple of shabby stone structures were located. Marching briskly towards it I came across a few non-Afghan faces outside those rooms who regarded me with curiosity as I approached them. Assalam-o-alaikum! I greeted them with excitement and they all replied with equal warmth, probably taking me for an Arab. But then I asked them in chaste Urdu, Is Alam Sahib here? One of them replied, Yes! He is in the room. My excitement was at its peak. I hurriedly entered the room which was very dark and my eyes took a while to adjust to the sudden change in light. On a broken wooden bed in the corner lay an old man who tried to get up upon my entry. His head was covered with a scarf but I could never make a mistake in recognizing that face. I had found Alam Sahib. I tried to keep my emotions under control and greeted him with a respectful Assalam -o-alaikum Sir! He instantly recognized me and in his typical dignified military style replied with a very firm smile, Hello Zaid, Wa-alaikum-salam! So you have arrived. He said, warmly shaking my extended hand. There was no embracing or outburst of emotions. I respected him too much and was aware of his reserved nature and he was too dignified to come down to my level. The news of my arrival spread rapidly through the base and all the Pakistanis began to gather to greet me. I had never seen any of those men before but that did not matter. There were about seven or eight boys with Alam Sahib out of which only two were actual Pakistanis. Rest were Bengalis from Bangladesh but since they all stayed close to Alam Sahib and spoke Urdu, everyone considered them as Pakistanis as well. Bengalis were even more comfortable with

Alam Sahib as he spoke fluent Bangla also. All the boys there were from very humble backgrounds and were lone warriors, just like me, and had come to Jihad on their own initiative. Only Qari Saleem was from a regular Pakistani Jihadist group Harkat-ul-Jihad-ul-Islami and had already stayed here long enough to be known and accepted by the Tajik Mujahideen.

For me an important mission objective of this adventure had been achieved rather quickly. I had found Alam Sahib. He too, on his part, was extremely happy to have me with him and appreciated the fact that I had come this far looking for him. We talked for hours on end catching up on each other's stories. He was interested in knowing the developments in Pakistan while I was curious to know how he had spent the last one year and about the progress of the Jihad and Mujahideen in the region. Alam Sahib had grown weak and I could see that he was living an extremely tough life under very harsh conditions. There were no toilets on the base and men had to go to the mountains. Even hot water was not available for washing and ablution. There was no heating system in the rooms made of stones and the living conditions were most basic even by nomadic Afghan standards. If I had not known Alam Sahib beforehand, I would have found it very difficult to believe that he had managed to live for so long in such discomfort under such intolerable conditions. I found it even more difficult to comprehend that a frail man like him had crossed the most brutal mountains on foot and then passed the harshest of winter under these extreme conditions. But there he was - content, satisfied and dignified as always with not a word of complaint. In Pakistan, a man of his stature would be living a comfortable life in a cozy bungalow. But all his life he had lived as a passionate and emotional fighter and had wilfully opted to choose this path despite his advanced age and frail structure. Alam Sahib's inner strength and his self-control had always fascinated me and here once again in the Farkhar valley he did not fail to impress me. There was a reason why he was chosen by Allah Almighty for the unmatched honors that he had received during his career as a fighter pilot in the PAF. Here I came to know that no matter where Masood was, he did come back to this base quite frequently. I had found Alam Sahib and the boys compatible with my nature and was now very comfortably lodged and in no hurry to go anywhere until I had achieved the second objective of my mission: To meet Masood. Alam Sahib had spent the last year on this base and had not moved out much. Obviously his purpose of coming here was not to fight alongside the Mujahideen but just to be here with them to offer his emotional, moral and spiritual support in the struggle which he believed to be sacred. Within the Afghans he was known as the Pakistani General but in all honesty every Afghan and even Masood was perplexed by his presence. Alam Sahib was so different from all the definitions of a worldly General that many Afghans doubted whether he actually held the rank of a Brigadier General. The stories of his exploits as the ace fighter pilot had been heard by all but there were many skeptics too. Alam Sahib was beyond praise or criticism and had opted to live an obscure life in the extreme wilderness without any contact with the outside world or his family. He did have a small hand-held radio on which he used to

listen to the news of the outside world. Every evening, he would take out the kerosene lantern and clean the glass himself to prepare it for the night ahead. Then, after dinner, all would huddle together around the dim yellow light and listen to his amazing stories, experiences and words of wisdom. Alam Sahib had spent his entire last year in prayers and meditations and this fact had generated great respect for the man who appeared more as a Mystic Dervesh than an ace fighter pilot of such rank and stature. Masood had also shown great love and respect for Alam Sahib and had kept him close as his personal guest and would frequently come and have lengthy discussions with him. Alam Sahib himself told me later that often when he was reading the Quran or praying alone in the Masjid, Masood would quietly come and sit next to him and listen to his recitations. The Mystic would pat the Mujahid affectionately who would sit obediently and then leave silently with visible display of respect.

Air Commodore M.M. Alam in Farkhar valley 1990