End of Chapter 3 - Indians in Pakistan (An extract from the novel)

The guard shoved me aside and disappeared into the darkness. I was stunned by his heartlessness. There was supposed to be magnificent comradery in the jihadi movement. This was the impression I had before landing in Pakistan. And now I knew the bitter truth that we, jihadis, were a divided lot. It was every man for himself.

I finally reached my room. My eyes fell upon an old radio set kept aside in a corner. I switched it on and listened to the regional news. Then I fiddled with the cellular handset and tried to master its menu navigation system. It was of no use. I had never been good at this. I decided to ask Irfan to help me with it the next day. He really knew how to handle these things.

After some time I switched off the radio and changed into a night suit. Then I turned off the light and lay in bed hoping for a good night’s sleep. But the events of the day kept on replaying in my mind. And what an eventful day it had been! I kept on thinking for a while about our arrival in Karachi, the journey to the camp, the revolt of the Kashmiris, the introductions in the cafeteria, the sumptuous meal and the threat from the burly Lashkar guard. But there was one image that constantly dominated and pervaded all the memories of this exciting day. It was the beautiful face of Najma!