25th November, 2008 will go down in the history of Customs Department as an unfortunate day when three employees of the Federal Board of Revenue, including one Deputy Collector, one Inspector and a computer operator along with their driver were abducted by the Taliban from the main Peshawar-Torkham highway near ahead of ‘Prang Sang’ check post while they were on their way back from Custom Station Torkham. This was the first ever incident of its kind when the Taliban abducted such senior Customs officers during broad day light from the main road amid numerous onlookers. The Taliban kept these officers in captivity for a few days and released them one by one after much hectic efforts of friends, relatives, fellow officers and middle men. Following is a brief account of the incident as recorded by Karam Elahi.BACKGROUNDI had joined at M.C.C Peshawar on 05.12.2008 after my transfer from M.C.C Sambrial, Sialkot. While I was on my way from Sialkot for Peshawar along with my long-time friend, Mr. Muhammad Sher, I came to know that internal transfer posting of D.C/A.Cs at M.C.C Peshawar was likely in a day or two after my joining at M.C.C Peshawar. I had spent about six hectic years at Karachi since 2001 at the cost of neglecting my family, especially during my posting at LTU Karachi and M.C.C Karachi. Now I badly wanted to stay close to my family and friends in Peshawar in order to give more time to my near and dear ones. Accordingly, I called up Mr. Samiul Haq, D.C, then posted at M.C.C Peshawar, to request the then Collector M.C.C Peshawar for posting me anywhere in Peshawar but not Torkham or Kohat. He promised to try. As expected, the orders were issued soon after and I was placed at M.C.C Hqrs Custom House Peshawar. The job at Hqrs was not my first experience: I had been at Hqrs at Preventive Karachi, M.C.C Karachi and M.C.C Sambrial. However, at M.C.C Peshawar, I found that compared to Karachi, things were really in a bad shape, particularly in terms of the professional know-how, motivation level and discipline. I had to work very hard indeed, often sitting very late in the evening, to dispose off official work and to bring about changes in the working of HQ office on more efficient lines. Resultantly, I was able to improve the working environment a great deal and the impact was particularly visible in the areas of discipline, efficiency and transparency. However, I could not spare enough time for family. The most memorable event during my posting at M.C.C HQ was the official trip to Afghanistan in June 12 to 14, 2008 along with Collector Mr. Rozi Khan Burki, D.C Samiul Haq and PRO Mr. Siddiq Akbar, who was to accompany me later in my days of captivity also. The scenes of destroyed Russian tanks and aircrafts in the base of the famous Salang Valley were reminiscent of the Afghan war against soviet invading forces. With the transfer of Rozi Khan Burki, Mr. Najeeb R. Abbasi took over as Collector M.C.C Peshawar in August 2008. Although a little bumpy in the beginning, relations with the new Collector got cordial pretty soon. Transfer to TorkhamHowever, within three months of his joining as Collector M.C.C Peshawar, Mr. Najeeb R. Abbasi took up the much awaited transfer-posting of D.C/A.Cs. The Collector was gracious enough to consult me as D.C HQ on most of the transfer/posting cases and I always gave my honest, objective and candid opinion. When names for various posts were being considered by the Collector, the most crucial question was who should be posted to C.S. Torkham. This question had assumed importance also because of the multifarious problems that had afflicted Customs working at Torkham. Outstanding these problems were lack of e-filing, lack of automation, irritants in acknowledgement of Afghan Transit cargo, smuggling of various items, revenue leakage due to poor examination and assessment of goods, lack of infrastructure facilities. I remember very clearly that whenever Collector asked about my willingness for Torkham, I politely and courteously regretted and instead requested for placing me anywhere else except Kohat and Torkham. Honestly, I liked Peshawar Airport for posting where I thought I would be able to bring about some improvements in the Customs working on the pattern of Karachi Airport where I had served during 2003-04. Contrary to my expectations and desire, however, I was posted at C.S Torkham. As expected, my family was very upset at the news as I myself. It was an outcome I had feared even at the time of my departure from Sambrial about nine months back. Finally, I was up against a situation which I had so badly wished to avoid. From day one when I joined on 16.09.2008 at Torkham, I was far from being comfortable. Stressful as I remained at C.S Torkham I tried to adopt all possible measures for the safety and security of myself and my staff. For the first time ever, I got my staff equipped with automatic rifles, including G-3 and AK-47, and placed the security staff at key places. Similarly, the Customs offices were protected with either boundary wall or barbed wire. New iron gates were also installed and manned. I would also change my route, timing and vehicle while travelling to and from Torkham. However, the efforts I had initiated in resolving the long-standing issues at Torkham were not liked by the vested interests and gradually I felt that a reaction would follow any time. On the advice of a few friends from sensitive agencies, I tried to remain even more careful and sent an email to Collector M.C.C Peshawar apprising him of the looming danger and proposing that I may be allowed not to go to Torkham on daily basis but rather once or twice a week. However, that e-mail was not replied to by the Collector, perhaps wittingly for reasons known to him. Resultantly, I continued travelling to and from my office at Torkham on daily basis. On 24th November, 2008 I was with the Collector in his chamber when a friend from civil armed forces informed me on my cell phone to avoid coming to Torkham as the law enforcement agencies had an armed clash with the militants in Jamrud Tehsil the night before. When the Collector, sitting close by, asked about the issue, I shared with him the information. However he brushed aside the apprehension suggesting that certain vested interests may be trying to use these tactics for keeping me away from Torkham and that I should not pay much attention to such news. The next day when I got up my sixth sense was giving me alarms. I had however little choice but to attend office as otherwise I would not only be taken for a coward by my boss but also that I will be failing in my duty for which I am being paid. Sometimes it is unbelievable how you act involuntary in a particular way, perhaps on the dictates of your subconscious mind. I wore warm brown colour clothes, white pyjama, black jacket, “Chitrali Topi” and brown shoes: all meant to be useful in case there is travelling to far-flung hilly areas. Later my friends would joke that I had actually planned in advance for my “trip” as if I knew beforehand.
THE D-DAY
25th November, 2008 was a day which began as usual like any other day but ended in most dramatic manner for me, my relatives, friends and well wishers. Earlier in the day at office I was pleased to know that the much-needed internet connectivity has been established at Torkham, thanks to the efforts of a few individuals. It was, however, learnt that the clearing agents and their local touts were in no mood to utilise the newly established internet service facility for e-filing. I immediately summoned their president Mr. Nasir Shinwari to my office and briefed him about the importance and benefit s of e-filing. Mr.Nasir listened to my ‘lecture’ silently and then responded by saying that although he will consult other agents but there is less likelihood that agents may switch over to e-filing. However the reasons he cited were totally untenable and baseless. Later in the day, a delegation of Afghan Customs officers visited my office and we exchanged views on various issues facing customs staff and the traders on both sides of the border. After the lunch, Afghan Customs officers were seen off at PAK-Afghan border at around 2.30 PM to 2.40 PM.
Soon after seeing off the Afghan Customs officers I returned to my office and tried to immediately leave for Peshawar. However, I stayed for a few minutes more to dispose off pending works of urgent nature. At about 3 pm I asked my sepoy to get the car ready at the back of my office to keep our departure invisible. Customs Inspector Mr. Siddiq Akbar and Mr.Kamran of M/S PRAL were also ready and we proceeded to the car. When I came out of my office I found that Mr. Irshad was waiting for me and he not only shook hands with me but also accompanied me up to my car. I asked him to complete a small task I had assigned to him for installing Steno’s telephone at my office. Other than Irshad I don’t know whether any other person witnessed my departure.
The Moment
In order to avoid being seen at the time of my departure from office, I used the back door of my office and started for Peshawar in a private Toyota Car, bypassing Landi Kotal Bazar. Our journey back home was pretty comfortable as we gossiped and as usual looking at the surrounding barren mountains, trying to reflect on the historical background of the valley. On our way one of our friends Mr.Hidayat, Customs Inspector, called on my mobile phone and requested to ask A.C Kohat for the posting of an Inspector. I did not like the idea but requested A.C Kohat to consider the request and he promised. After a while I called up Mr.Hidayat to inform him accordingly. At this point we had just crossed the house of former Senator Haji Gul Sher Afridi. As our car crossed the ‘’khwar” and reached the curved part of the road, I was still talking to Mr.Hidayat on phone. Suddenly, I saw that a state car, called “ghwagai” in local parlance, blocked the road in front of our speeding car. Within no time armed terrorists surrounded our car. They were fully armed with AK-47, hand grenades, suicide jackets and RPGs. With ferocious speed they coerced us to follow what they say. The driver tried to persuade them into sparing him disclosing his identity as a local person known to notable malik in Jamrud but the terrorists subdued him with fists and buts of AK-47. For a moment, I was badly shaken. The image of one terrorist, with marks of vitiligo “bragay” on his face- all set to shoot and kill, shouting at us to immediately sit in their vehicle or else will be shot dead- seized and blocked my mind. At this terrible moment, I forgot even to inform Mr.Hidayat about our kidnapping. That was the only time I was not totally in normal composure and this happened only for a minute or two. Very soon, however, I started realizing the grim reality of my abduction. I asked both my colleagues and captors to remain calm and not to panic. I had to say this partly because this was self-consoling but also because two of my colleagues were crying and needed some words of hope. More importantly, it was meant to keep the terrorist driver drive a little carefully on the bumpy road meandering through the rugged and steep mountain.
As we were climbing up that inhospitable and sky-high mountain, I could see the plain below and the main road we had left, getting farther and farther as did our hope of returning home. Although I was quite composed by then, soon the thought of my near and dear ones came to my mind with a sense of pain and despair. I was particularly worried about my mother and my little daughter, Sara, then hardly seven months old, although I was not oblivious to the shock that other family members and friends alike were to get.
In the heat of movement, the terrorists put me in their state car while all my three colleagues Mr.Siddiq Akbar, Mr.Kamran and Mr. Bhutto were driven in our own corolla car. The man whose terrifying face had struck my vision was with us in the state car. He immediately asked me if I was an NGO worker spreading bad ideas in girls schools. To this I responded in the negative and gave him my ID Card to confirm that I was from Customs Department. He then said that they have been informed by some quarters that we were NGO officials and that we will be freed after we are heard by Taliban’s Amir. He also assured me that in case we were not from NGO, they will reveal to us the person who gave wrong information to them about us and caused us hardships. This assurance, although subsequently proved false, was of great relief for the time being. Our kidnappers disclosed their real intentions on the third day of the incident.
The abductors described
While we were being driven away by the Taliban in a display of reckless driving, I did believe what that man with lukoderma told us that we will be with them only for a night and then we will be set free after confirming that we do not belong to any NGO. During discussion on the way, he told me that he was once a student of B.A at Quide Azam University but after the tragedy of Lal Masjid, he bid farewell to studies and joined the Taliban to avenge the deaths of those hundreds of innocent students, both male and female. He was from Shangla District of NWFP. The state car was driven by a young man, named Hanif, from Aurakzai Agency. He had a repulsive appearance, with dusty hair, untrimmed bushy beard, dark black eyes, dirty clothes and rough manners. He was driving like he wanted to commit suicide: remaining safe in such driving was indeed another miracle as was our ultimate release after twelve arduous days. This man from Aurakzai Agency was fond of listening to the typical Taliban audio cassettes containing poems about the Taliban and their brand of ‘Jihad’. These poems were so repelling to hearing and had a very damaging impact on mind and heart of the captured. The third person sitting in our state car was a young Talib, who was continuously reciting some prayers and verses from the Holy Quran. He was rather quiet and spoke very little. Later this fellow turned out to be a very well meaning, shy and relatively kind person. He would sit with us and discuss things, trying to provide us whatever comfort he could, allowing us to enjoy some sunlight, arrange for warm water, tissue paper, mineral water and even some nice dishes at times. His name was Muhammad and his accent suggested that he was from Peshawar District as he also admitted but never showed his full address like his fellow Talibans.
Three other Taliban who were sitting with my friends in our own corolla car were named Mr.Hilal (whom we later found to be the leader of the group), Mr. Haider and Mr. Imran, the last being the youngest (21) and the first being the eldest (32). Of these Imran was from Swat District but, according to him, his family was living in Karachi. At the age of 21 he was already married and had kids. He had a twin brother too and had worked in Karachi with his father as cart pusher (Rerhi Ban). By the way, all the Taliban were from very poor families. Some of these Taliban were totally illiterate while some had been to schools or madressa for some time: no one had completed his studies though. Subsequently, a few more Taliban also interacted with us. Of these notable names are of Mr. Usman, a young and charming boy in his twenties from Peshawar, Mr. Haris from Swabi and Mr. Ahmed from Miranshah North Waziristan Agency. The only suicide bomber who stayed in the same room with me for one night was from Waziristan Agency and was a young boy in his mid teens, totally illiterate and devoid of manners. There was one very important local Talib of Aurakzai Agency, whom I found not only comparatively kind-hearted but also more informed and interested in intellectual debates, but whose name I could not ascertain. He was later to play important role in negotiating my release just two days before Eid.
To shoot or not to shoot
Within first ten minutes of the kidnapping, I was engaged in a very serious and consequential thought process. The Taliban were not wise enough or alert enough to carry out our physical search: they only took AK-47 from our driver Mr. Bhutto but I was also carrying a Taurus pistol, fully loaded but locked, at that time. What I could do was to unlock the pistol in my side pocket and get rid of the three terrorists in my car in a few seconds. This was not very difficult. The big issue, however, was to make sure that my other friends remain safe once their car approaches our car: my friends had no arms with them and their captors were fully armed with deadly automatic weapons. This was indeed a very a very tense moment and I thought and thought, over and over again, even as I was off and on asked various questions by my captors. In the end I opted not to go ahead with any misadventure and voluntarily gave my pistol to the Taliban who received it with a sudden realization of their blunder but simultaneously appreciating my move, which I actually expected. In fact, I also wanted to gain as much good well and trust as possible for our benefit for days ahead.
Again at a certain place, when our abductors had to stop on the man road as our Toyota car was running out of fuel, my driver Mr. Bhutto looked at me and through the gestures of his eyes sought my permission to attack the kidnappers but given our limitations and strong chances of collateral damage, I declined the idea and he complied. Later he told me in our detention room that he had seen some persons, loyal to an anti-Taliban group headed by one Mangal Bagh Afridi, who may have helped if we had attacked the kidnappers. In my view this expectation was rather unrealistic and still dangerous as the Taliban had suicide jackets with them, which would have exploded in the event of a shootout and that would have been disastrous for all of us.
My longest stressful journey
In our journey from the place of abduction to the place where we were kept, the Taliban had almost completed their investigation regarding our identity, background, income and other relevant information. This was indeed the most stressful journey I ever had. I was not fully able to get rid of thinking about those I had left behind: will my mother survive if she learns about my kidnapping? How will my father bear this grief? How will my wife and kids reconcile to the reality of spending days and nights without me in that house? Will I ever see my little Sara again in life? How will my other relatives and friends respond to the situation? What will be the demoralizing influence on my staff at Torkham and fellow officers elsewhere? Will we be really left alone by the Amir Sahib or will we also be slaughtered in typical Taliban style? Are these genuine Taliban or professional kidnappers? What are the motives of our abductors? Questions like these and many more distressing questions kept flocking my mind throughout this journey. One very important thought that continued to reverberate in my mind was how will my old friend Muhammad Sher take the news of my abduction? We had lost a very dear friend, Matiullah Burki, in prime youth back in 2004 during the first round of operation launched by Pakistani security forces in South Waziristan and his memory was still fresh. Was history repeating itself? Is Sher going to lose another friend? Is another family going to be devastated? I wished it were a dream, not a harsh reality from which I had no immediate safe escape.
By dusk we reached -----------where all sorts of smuggled goods were being brought from Afghanistan on mules, camels and donkeys for onwards transportation to Peshawar. Our corolla car had very little petrol and CNG left in it while there was still a long way to go as we later found. The Taliban parked the state car on road side in an unpopulated area and the other car was taken to the nearby bazaar for refuelling. It was here that I talked to my fellow abductees for some time and found that they were in very bad shape. The driver Mr. Bhutto was crying when he saw his son’s picture on his mobile being used by one Talib. Mr. Siddiq Akbar, Inspector, was apparently in better shape but quite uncomfortable more so due the shrill and heart-rending poems being played in the car as he later confided to me. I tried in my own little way to console them and assure them that our captors were ‘good’ people and they have picked up due to misunderstanding and will release all of us safely very soon. I must say that while Siddiq was doing rather well, the other two guys were totally overwhelmed by the incident. So long as they remained with us in captivity, I and Mr. Siddiq used to solace them and keep their mood and morale up, with little success of course. Indeed their release after four days was a great relief, not only to them and their relatives but also to me and Siddiq Akbar.
Our kidnapers told us that there are a few check posts where Arab and Uzbek Mujahedeen will be inquiring about us and that we must tell them that we were Taliban’s guests. This, they said, would save us from slaughter from the hands of these Arab and Uzbek Mujahedeen who have zero tolerance for any government servant. Later on, we realized that there were no such Mujahedeen on our way: the Taliban had actually done this in order to avoid any problem in case the Khasadars asked at any Check Point. There were about three Khasadar check posts on the way at various points but at no check point any official of the political administration dared ask our abductors regarding us, although I kept on hoping against hope, in vain though, that someone may attend to the call of duty. At one check post in Aurakzai Agency, we heard the Taliban discuss the plan as they apprehended interrogation from the Khasadars and they said in case the Khasadars resisted, they will launch a do-or-die attack. Our faces were covered in black Taliban caps and we could not see anything outside but I really had my concerns in case there is a shootout, especially when it was extremely dark and chilly outside. However, it seemed the Taliban prevailed and the Khasadars cleared the road for Taliban vehicles to go ahead. Finally after travelling for about ten hours, we reached our destination in Aurakzai Agency at about midnight.
The weather was chilly and we were hungry also. However, that night we had to go to sleep without having taken even a morsel. We were taken out of the vehicles and taken to a large room of a mud house. Our faces were covered in the typical Taliban black caps. The room had sufficient sleeping bags and quilts for all of us and we were soon lying on ground in our sleeping bags. During the entire journey we asked our abductors to allow us to pray but they paid no heed. Later in our discussions we learnt that according to them when “Jihad’’ becomes “Farze Ain”, all other “Faraiz” become “Saqit”, hence their paying less attention to offering prayers. Most of the Taliban were also oblivious of cleanliness and took bath once a week at the most. Some of them used snuff also.
Days of captivity
Among my fellow abductees, I stayed in captivity for the longest time. The driver Mr. Bhutto was released almost within forty eight hours of our abduction. His release was the combined result of my persuading the Taliban as well as passionate requests of his family members, particularly his uncle whom the Taliban had called up. The Taliban also had confirmed that the car in possession of Mr. Bhutto was actually not official but Bhutto’s personal. The Taliban also realised that the driver was a poor man, hence finally they released him. Bhutto’s release helped us in conveying our message to family and friends regarding our safety, location and future course of action.
With the release of Mr. Bhutto I got a little relaxed: firstly because through him the Taliban conveyed to us that we have been abducted for getting their two fellow Talibans currently in ISI custody; secondly, because he was the source through which our family and friends came to know about our condition. However, his departure was misinterpreted by Mr.Kamran as he developed suspicions that the Taliban will ‘slaughter’ us sooner than not. Once I asked him to remember Allah and recite the Holy Quran. However, while reading the Holy Quran he suddenly started crying and saying “O Allah, Help us: they are going to slaughter us”. This really made me and my friend Mr. Siddiq upset and we rebuked Mr.Kamran for showing such a weak character. In the meantime, the Taliban continued inquiring about the social status of Mr.Kamran and as a result of such inquiry the Taliban finally released him also unconditionally. We advised Mr.Kamran not to indulge in unnecessary exchange of information with many people and to just inform our family that we were doing well.
Living among the Taliban
Living among the Taliban was indeed a terrible and un-nerving experience. They provided us the same food which they ate. Some of them also stayed at night with us in the same room, using the similar quilts and sleeping bags. Usually they would first serve us the food and then would eat themselves. Their most frequent dish was “saag” and wheat bread cooked on clay “tawwa”, hence the bread was partly burnt black. The room in which we were lodged was full of heavy arms, explosives, RPGs and anti-tank mines. It was always locked from outside, except when we would be going out to the nearby lavatory. On our request, they provided us the Holy Quran and later a few books, all on Jihad. These books were “Kitabul Jihad” by Abdullah Ibne Mubarak, “Maidan Pukaarte Hain” by Abdullah Azzam (late), “Adaabe Zindagi” by Yousaf Islahi and another book on Jihad by Abdullah Azzam (late). We did not take bath for eight consecutive days although I hardly remember any day when I have not taken a bath early in the morning during last twenty years or so. When I realized that the stay would prolong, then finally I requested them for warm water and wash room which were arranged and I took bath but wore the same old clothes. Luckily, however, since I was wearing brown clothes, they always looked fresh. On the other hand, Mr.Siddiq Akbar was wearing white cotton clothes and since there was a lot of dust in the room, his clothes literally turned grey, if not black, after a few days. But while his clothes were turning grey, so did our faces and beard.
The latrine we were normally using was a place one never wanted to visit again, if one could, but there was no other choice available to us. I am yet to see a lavatory in worse condition than that: there was no proper drainage, no fresh water supply, no door and one could not properly breathe due to abhorable smell. The senior Taliban used two separate rooms for living and storage of heavy arms and ammunition. There was one wash room available near those rooms. I used that wash room twice, each time I was taken there and brought back blindfolded. However, even blindfolded I could still peep through and see that the room was full of heavy arms and ammunition, including heavy machine gun, anti-aircraft guns and mortar guns.
We had developed the practice of praying collectively in our detention room. The Taliban never prayed together with us, nor did they ate their meals with us, until last two three days when I was alone as all my friends had been released one by one. One ‘fine’ morning, when we got up for prayer, Mr.Kamran told his captors that he wanted to take a bath “ghusl” before he could pray. This was indeed quite funny and Mr. Siddiq Akbar could not resist cutting joke against poor Kamran, who responded by saying “I wonder how come Satan (Shaitan) made his way to this place of terror where no one would dare come?” Anyway, Kamran managed to join us on prayer.
A murder in cold blood
It was perhaps on the sixth night of our stay with the Taliban when at around 10 pm a young but rather frail and bony junior ranking officer of FIU of FC was suddenly bundled into our room. We were already in our sleeping bags and were about to go to sleep when the Taliban barged into our room with the captive in chains. They had already given him sound beating in their main markaz. The man introduced himself as a Lance Naik in F.C and was in service for about fifteen years. He hailed from Bara Khyber Agency and was recently posted to the area where it was relatively difficult to find useful informants due to the strong Taliban presence there. However, the unfortunate fellow fell prey to the Taliban agents instead of finding his own agents. The Taliban agents trapped him and soon he was in their captivity.
Soon after his arrival in the room, Mr. Haider, a Talib, came in and warned us that the Amir Sahib was very angry at us because some elements were trying to influence him regarding our release. Threatening us of a similar treatment soon, he started giving lashes to the poor F.C man to coerce him into confessional statement. He was given some food but no water to drink despite his repeated requests. The Taliban gathered in the room and asked him to give full account of his anti-Taliban activities during last several years. Despite the physical torture he had received at their hands, he told his captors that he has nothing to tell them unless they wanted to hear lies. However, they were not satisfied and started kicking, slapping, punching and beating him with lashes made of PVC wire as well as wooden sticks. There was thick dust in room due to the worst manhandling I have ever seen with my eyes. The man was unbelievably tough and did not either cry or shed any tear. He was however very thirsty and repeatedly implored his executors to give him water but they would inflict lashes each time he wanted water. Finally, they tied his two legs together, hanged him upside down from the iron beam and started beating him with full force. We could clearly see blood oozing out and trickling out of his wounds, spreading over the whole body, particularly his back, legs and arms. One Talib confided to me that the man had been given bath in cold water after the first round of torture in another concentration camp “markaz”.
After severe physical torture through beating, they untied the man and started sprinkling salt on his bleeding wounds. Amazingly, the man still showed no signs of pain nor moaned. At this point however he started giving an account of his activities undertaken by him over the years against the Taliban in Bajaur, Mohmand, Warsak and Aurakzai Agency. He also disclosed names of a few who were working in Aurakzai Agency against the Taliban. Whatever he was saying now was being recorded by a Talib named Haider. Another Talib brought slat and put it on the bleeding wounds. It was an unbearable situation, more so because we felt so helpless to do anything about it. Each time he implored the Amir for some water, he would get only more lashes. With no drop of saliva in his mouth and throat, the man could hardly speak: he seemed like a dying thirsty bird (as a young village boy, I had seen in scorching summer thirsty birds, with their beaks gaped wide badly in need of water). All this torture and recording of statement took place under the presence and command of Mr. Hilal, the Amir of our kidnappers. The man then requested for allowing him to attend latrine but he was not allowed. When the Taliban felt that it was getting late at night and sufficient information has been divulged by the man, they decided to leave further proceedings to the next day and tying his hands behind, left the man on ground to his fate. At this point the Amir expressed his intention to hang the poor man in upside down position outside the room in the chilly open air but I beseeched his conscience and pleaded to leave the man inside in view of the severe cold outside. Unbelievably enough, the Amir not only agreed to my request, he also allowed that hands of the man to be untied.
After a while when the light was switched off and we entered into our sleeping bags, we realized how much of dust was lying on our quilts and sleeping bags. It was not until next three days or so when finally I managed to wash the dust from my head and face. How can one sleep after witnessing such inhuman brutality in the name of Islam, Jihad and revenge? I tried and tried but sleep was not possible that night. No sooner did we cover our faces in the sleeping bags then the poor Lance Naik started moaning in pain now. Intermittently he would call “Amir Sahib, Amir Sahib” to seek permission of his captors for going to latrine for urination but was not replied by Mr. Haider who was In Charge of the room. At one point Mr. Haider warned him to keep quite and not to moan but when the man did not stop moaning. At this Mr. Haider got up and gave him a few more lashes after which he remained quiet for a while. Shortly afterwards, however, he started moaning again. At around 4 am or so, the man vomited blood and after a few minutes requested that his end was near so he may please be set in straight position, facing qibla. A junior Talib, Mr Imran from Swat, went up to him and did accordingly. The last words I remember he uttered were “Amir Saib,.....Amir,.......Am......” and then there was complete silence. The man was finally free from more torture of the Taliban. If I could cry, I would have cried to the Heaven and cried my heavy heart out but alas! I had no tears in my eyes. Yet my heart was burning with anger, grief and frustration. A deep sense of hatred would surge in my heart for these butchers but would find no expression. I felt like being choked to death.
I was waking throughout that night, thinking of the poor man’s end, his kids back home and the toughness displayed by the man even in the face of such brutality. I was thinking of what is going on in our beloved country, what new shape Jihad has been given, what sort of Muslims these so-called Taliban are, who is the true martyr: the FC man or the Talib and so on. I found no definite and conclusive answer to my questions. I tried to reflect on the entire history of the struggle of the Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) and could not recollect even one instance where the prophet of mercy or any of his companion ever allowed such brutal treatment of even non-Muslim prisoners, whether before or after the conquest of Mecca. Who is training, financing, brain-washing and arming these so-called Mujahedeen? On my mind was the verse of Holy Quran which says “And shall I tell you of the worst wasteful deeds: it is the actions of those (persons) who waste their efforts (and energies) in this world, yet believing (in vain) that they are doing the most pious things”. I wish I could engage them in an in-depth discussion on the legality and propriety of their acts in the light of Islam but I knew they were neither ready for such a debate nor capable of such intellectual discourse.
Not long afterwards, the Muezzin called for the Morning Prayer and we got up, did ablution and offered prayers. As usual it was very cold and as such we re-entered our sleeping bags, trying unsuccessfully to sleep. Hardly a few minutes passed when tea arrived and we had our breakfast, with a dead man’s body on our side and blood stained sleeping bags of the deceased lying behind us. We would try not to divert our attention but the images of dead man’s torturous exit from life haunted us relentlessly. The warning conveyed to us by the Taliban before they killed the F.C man was still at the back of our mind. This was an unforgettable breakfast indeed.
Our detention room was situated in the bottom of a sky-high mountain; hence sunlight would come quite late in the morning. As the day progressed, the Taliban came and directed us to put our head-covers on and move out of the room with them. They escorted us to a trench-type place on the nearby mountain, where my leg was tied with Mr. Siddiq Akbar’s leg with iron chain and then locked. Two armed Taliban guards Mr. Usman and Mr. Ahmed were deputed to guard us. We enjoyed the sunlight after a few days and breathed in the open air, listening to the free birds flying and chirping around. We could also hear the voices of school kids from the nearby school and the sounds of a rural village life were also quite audible. This situation reminded me of two things. First, an essay by Charles Lamb “Oxford in Vacation” regarding the feelings of miserable hostel students, fed up with their hostel depressing life, during their rare excursions to the rural lands, and envying the free birds and nearby cattle. Secondly it reminded of a saying of the Holy Prophet that five things should be considered “ghanimah” before five things: life before death, health before illness, youth before old age, prosperity before poverty and leisure before getting busy. I thought, one would like to add, “Freedom before captivity”.
I was also speculating on how to avoid such a humiliating treatment at the hands of our captors. If ultimately the Taliban decided to kill us, we would make one passionate request: to just kill us away from each other so that none of us witness whatever manner the other gets killed. After all, if the sight of a stranger’s execution was so painful, how could we bear the shock and agony of seeing our fellow officer’s death in such a humiliating and gruesome manner? While I was lost in such thought-process, in the meantime, the Taliban had packed the man in a sack and taken him away to throw him on the roadside with a written warning to others who would dare spy on the Taliban. When the dead body was removed, we were taken back to our detention room where we went to sleep to make up for the loss of sleep at night.
Life was different and difficult after the murder incident. Every day and every night the dead man’s misery before death and the grief that befell the bereaved family would come back to our memory and sadden us. Despite this haunting experience, we would try to divert our attention by discussing various topics, ranging from our experiences in university to political topics and history. We would also, at times, share jokes and laugh. Later we realized that if our captors heard us laugh so loud and so often, they may get the impression that we are happy and this may hamper our early release. Resultantly, we would avoid loud laughter, especially when our captors were near-by our detention room. I also used to do some simple exercises in the evening, especially after I developed minor gastric trouble, perhaps due to lack of balanced diet, no activity and relentless stress. Prayers and recitation from the Holy Quran were other useful activities. Most of the time, however, we would lie down inside our sleeping bags, more so because it was very cold inside the room, even during day time. I would try to stay positive and think of those who went through similar or worse situation and get inspiration. One such person who remained my inspiration was of course Nelson Mandela whose biography “Long walk to freedom” I had recently read. However, most of the time, we used to sleep. Slowly and gradually, it became my habit to sleep during the day and remain waking almost throughout the night. This problem continued for a few days even after my release.
Sometimes the Taliban would allow us to stay in the sunlight for some time. But normally they kept us locked inside our room, particularly when “guests” would be coming. There was a room above our detention room: it was used by the owner of the house, who was an old man of simple and gentle disposition. I saw him twice and each time he requested the Taliban to finalise our cases quickly. It was his son, a young, frail and thin-bearded fellow, who would later escort us along with the Taliban up to a nearby filling station from where we were delivered to Mr. Afsar Khan and Haji Abdul Hameed, both Mehsood from North Waziristan. I personally saw that guy only twice during my 12 days captivity. One Talib, they called Muhammad, was truly gentle and very kind hearted, at least to us. Probably, this was their strategy to partly try and change our minds in their favour for future purposes and partly to keep a balance between harshness and leniency. He would try to make us feel comfortable, would sit with us and engage us in chit chat, and also on a few occasions got prepared some dishes of our choice. He was most apologetic for what we were going through but he had no authority to decide our fate. On a couple of occasions he gave us feedback and advice based on his first hand information regarding what the Taliban were planning or thinking about next course of action. I am personally sure that he would be a voice in our support in Talibans meetings about our case. I had nothing to thank him, except words of appreciation and prayers. Before departure for my home, I gifted my personal paijama to him. The other Talib dealt with us courteously was named Imran and was from Swat but his parents lived in Karachi. He was the one who informed me that Mr.Hakeemullah Mehsud, Mr. Baitullah Mehsud’s deputy, had asked their Amir, Mr. Hilal, to consider our case leniently. I was surprised as to who may have asked Hakeemullah but I had really no clue. It was after my release that I came to know who actually was behind this move. One day before my release I took a bath and the Taliban provided me clothes, which belonged to Mr. Imran. When the next day I was given my new clothes, brought from my home by my best friend Mr. Muhammad Sher and my brother Noor Elahi, I offered my earlier clothes to Mr. Imran in recognition of his support and cooperation on many occasions.
The first time we were able to talk to the people back home was also after a couple of days after the murder of incident. We were asked by the Taliban to stress upon our relatives to arrange a hefty sum as demanded by the Taliban for our release. We were taken to a nearby mountain, about half an hour drive away from our lodge, for this purpose because there were no signals in the place where we were placed. There was a Khasadar Check Post on our way but the Khasadars did not bother to check the Taliban, although they could see us blind-folded inside the vehicle. When we reached the mountain top, it was Mr.Siddiq who first talked on phone to his relatives. He was informed by his nephew that his mother is in coma, news that shook Siddiq badly and he cried like a teenage boy after his dying mother. I tried to console him but all in vain. This was the first time I saw Mr. Siddiq losing his composure and given his profound emotional attachment to his mother, I think it was quite natural. While Siddiq continued sobbing, it was my turn to talk to my people. First I called up Mr. Sher.
When Sher heard my voice for the first time after my abduction, his reaction was moving. Saying, ‘God!!!!’ he paused for a little while. I could feel the tempest of heart-felt emotions overpowering him but with his typical well power he regained himself and re-started, “are you all right Sir?” I wished I could tell him what we had gone through during the last few days and nights but this was a test of character and we were men. I told him that we doing rather well but that he should do everything he could, visit friends, call a few relatives and arrange the money demanded by the captors. During the course of my conversation with Sher, the Taliban asked me to tell Sher to arrange the specified amount. Information about the actual demanded amount was however not shared with us by the Taliban. Mr. Sher assured me of his best efforts but again started inquiring about my well being. I had to cut short our brief conversation as I had to talk to my wife as well.
Next I rang up my wife but as usual she was away from her phone and as such my mother-in-law attended the phone call. Like any other woman, she was too nervous and too worried to carry on a normal telephonic conversation with the one whose future, and that of his kids, hang in the balance. She continued asking, “Hello! Where are you? Hello, How are you? Hello! Hello!”( Later after my release she told me, she did not know what she was saying then). Time was short as the sun was getting down and the Taliban were asking us to be quick lest they are fired upon from the “enemy” posts in the adjacent mountains. I asked her to give phone to my wife but instead she gave it to my sister in law. I thought I should instruct her instead of my wife, if the latter was not readily available but my agile sister in law took the mobile phone to my wife and I told her how I was and exchanged words of courage. Then she asked me to talk to my son Omar and daughter Aisha also. I advised both the kids on turn to be nice to their mother, to do their home work regularly and not to fight with each other. Aisha asked me, “Papa, when will you come? Please come back quickly.” I promised her to be back soon.
For the next two days, we hoped that our friends and relatives must have made every effort and arranged the amount. However, it was not yet clear as to how much amount is actually demanded by the Taliban. On my passionate request, Mr. Haider, a senior Talib, had assured me that the amount would be reasonable. I also requested Mr. Imran and Mr. Muhammad to convince Mr.Hilal for leniency. They assured us of their support.
One day, when I and my friend Mr.Siddiq were chatting in a rather light mood, in came to our room the local Aurakzai Talib, Mr. Hanif with another Talib and sat before us in a visibly hostile posture. With a touch of merciless butcher on his darkish face, mostly covered in bushy and dusty beard, he started, “Amir Sahib is losing his patience for you two: your relatives are not serious in your release as they have not arranged the amount yet, and instead they are trying to pressurise Amir Sahib through various sources. Now you have two days more in which either your people send us the ransom amount or we resort to what you have already seen”. This message from the Amir was really very disturbing for both of us. Without giving in to vile speculations and self-pity, I responded by asking him to take us to the mountain top for giving a final wake up call to our people before it is too late. They agreed but insisted that only one of us will go with them for the telephone call. We decided that I should go up there and talk to the contact persons for immediate action for our release. Soon we were on our way towards the mountain top and Mr. Hanif was again driving like a crazy marauder on the run. Again we crossed the Khasadar check post, but no Khasadar dared ask why there was a masked man inside the vehicle. On the mountain top I called up Mr. Sher again and asked him to listen carefully, “If you did not arrange this amount in next two days, you will get our dead bodies”. Sher assured me that he was doing his utmost and that he will be leaving for Hangu the next morning with the money and that we will be released soon. I also beseeched him to stop those people who were trying to influence the Taliban otherwise and he informed that he has already been requesting everybody to stop doing this.
(continues....)THE D-DAY25th November, 2008 was a day which began as usual like any other day but ended in most dramatic manner for me, my relatives, friends and well wishers. Earlier in the day at office I was pleased to know that the much-needed internet connectivity has been established at Torkham, thanks to the efforts of a few individuals. It was, however, learnt that the clearing agents and their local touts were in no mood to utilise the newly established internet service facility for e-filing. I immediately summoned their president Mr. Nasir Shinwari to my office and briefed him about the importance and benefit s of e-filing. Mr.Nasir listened to my ‘lecture’ silently and then responded by saying that although he will consult other agents but there is less likelihood that agents may switch over to e-filing. However the reasons he cited were totally untenable and baseless. Later in the day, a delegation of Afghan Customs officers visited my office and we exchanged views on various issues facing customs staff and the traders on both sides of the border. After the lunch, Afghan Customs officers were seen off at PAK-Afghan border at around 2.30 PM to 2.40 PM. Soon after seeing off the Afghan Customs officers I returned to my office and tried to immediately leave for Peshawar. However, I stayed for a few minutes more to dispose off pending works of urgent nature. At about 3 pm I asked my sepoy to get the car ready at the back of my office to keep our departure invisible. Customs Inspector Mr. Siddiq Akbar and Mr.Kamran of M/S PRAL were also ready and we proceeded to the car. When I came out of my office I found that Mr. Irshad was waiting for me and he not only shook hands with me but also accompanied me up to my car. I asked him to complete a small task I had assigned to him for installing Steno’s telephone at my office. Other than Irshad I don’t know whether any other person witnessed my departure. The Moment In order to avoid being seen at the time of my departure from office, I used the back door of my office and started for Peshawar in a private Toyota Car, bypassing Landi Kotal Bazar. Our journey back home was pretty comfortable as we gossiped and as usual looking at the surrounding barren mountains, trying to reflect on the historical background of the valley. On our way one of our friends Mr.Hidayat, Customs Inspector, called on my mobile phone and requested to ask A.C Kohat for the posting of an Inspector. I did not like the idea but requested A.C Kohat to consider the request and he promised. After a while I called up Mr.Hidayat to inform him accordingly. At this point we had just crossed the house of former Senator Haji Gul Sher Afridi. As our car crossed the ‘’khwar” and reached the curved part of the road, I was still talking to Mr.Hidayat on phone. Suddenly, I saw that a state car, called “ghwagai” in local parlance, blocked the road in front of our speeding car. Within no time armed terrorists surrounded our car. They were fully armed with AK-47, hand grenades, suicide jackets and RPGs. With ferocious speed they coerced us to follow what they say. The driver tried to persuade them into sparing him disclosing his identity as a local person known to notable malik in Jamrud but the terrorists subdued him with fists and buts of AK-47. For a moment, I was badly shaken. The image of one terrorist, with marks of vitiligo “bragay” on his face- all set to shoot and kill, shouting at us to immediately sit in their vehicle or else will be shot dead- seized and blocked my mind. At this terrible moment, I forgot even to inform Mr.Hidayat about our kidnapping. That was the only time I was not totally in normal composure and this happened only for a minute or two. Very soon, however, I started realizing the grim reality of my abduction. I asked both my colleagues and captors to remain calm and not to panic. I had to say this partly because this was self-consoling but also because two of my colleagues were crying and needed some words of hope. More importantly, it was meant to keep the terrorist driver drive a little carefully on the bumpy road meandering through the rugged and steep mountain. As we were climbing up that inhospitable and sky-high mountain, I could see the plain below and the main road we had left, getting farther and farther as did our hope of returning home. Although I was quite composed by then, soon the thought of my near and dear ones came to my mind with a sense of pain and despair. I was particularly worried about my mother and my little daughter, Sara, then hardly seven months old, although I was not oblivious to the shock that other family members and friends alike were to get. In the heat of movement, the terrorists put me in their state car while all my three colleagues Mr.Siddiq Akbar, Mr.Kamran and Mr. Bhutto were driven in our own corolla car. The man whose terrifying face had struck my vision was with us in the state car. He immediately asked me if I was an NGO worker spreading bad ideas in girls schools. To this I responded in the negative and gave him my ID Card to confirm that I was from Customs Department. He then said that they have been informed by some quarters that we were NGO officials and that we will be freed after we are heard by Taliban’s Amir. He also assured me that in case we were not from NGO, they will reveal to us the person who gave wrong information to them about us and caused us hardships. This assurance, although subsequently proved false, was of great relief for the time being. Our kidnappers disclosed their real intentions on the third day of the incident. The abductors describedWhile we were being driven away by the Taliban in a display of reckless driving, I did believe what that man with lukoderma told us that we will be with them only for a night and then we will be set free after confirming that we do not belong to any NGO. During discussion on the way, he told me that he was once a student of B.A at Quide Azam University but after the tragedy of Lal Masjid, he bid farewell to studies and joined the Taliban to avenge the deaths of those hundreds of innocent students, both male and female. He was from Shangla District of NWFP. The state car was driven by a young man, named Hanif, from Aurakzai Agency. He had a repulsive appearance, with dusty hair, untrimmed bushy beard, dark black eyes, dirty clothes and rough manners. He was driving like he wanted to commit suicide: remaining safe in such driving was indeed another miracle as was our ultimate release after twelve arduous days. This man from Aurakzai Agency was fond of listening to the typical Taliban audio cassettes containing poems about the Taliban and their brand of ‘Jihad’. These poems were so repelling to hearing and had a very damaging impact on mind and heart of the captured. The third person sitting in our state car was a young Talib, who was continuously reciting some prayers and verses from the Holy Quran. He was rather quiet and spoke very little. Later this fellow turned out to be a very well meaning, shy and relatively kind person. He would sit with us and discuss things, trying to provide us whatever comfort he could, allowing us to enjoy some sunlight, arrange for warm water, tissue paper, mineral water and even some nice dishes at times. His name was Muhammad and his accent suggested that he was from Peshawar District as he also admitted but never showed his full address like his fellow Talibans. Three other Taliban who were sitting with my friends in our own corolla car were named Mr.Hilal (whom we later found to be the leader of the group), Mr. Haider and Mr. Imran, the last being the youngest (21) and the first being the eldest (32). Of these Imran was from Swat District but, according to him, his family was living in Karachi. At the age of 21 he was already married and had kids. He had a twin brother too and had worked in Karachi with his father as cart pusher (Rerhi Ban). By the way, all the Taliban were from very poor families. Some of these Taliban were totally illiterate while some had been to schools or madressa for some time: no one had completed his studies though. Subsequently, a few more Taliban also interacted with us. Of these notable names are of Mr. Usman, a young and charming boy in his twenties from Peshawar, Mr. Haris from Swabi and Mr. Ahmed from Miranshah North Waziristan Agency. The only suicide bomber who stayed in the same room with me for one night was from Waziristan Agency and was a young boy in his mid teens, totally illiterate and devoid of manners. There was one very important local Talib of Aurakzai Agency, whom I found not only comparatively kind-hearted but also more informed and interested in intellectual debates, but whose name I could not ascertain. He was later to play important role in negotiating my release just two days before Eid. To shoot or not to shootWithin first ten minutes of the kidnapping, I was engaged in a very serious and consequential thought process. The Taliban were not wise enough or alert enough to carry out our physical search: they only took AK-47 from our driver Mr. Bhutto but I was also carrying a Taurus pistol, fully loaded but locked, at that time. What I could do was to unlock the pistol in my side pocket and get rid of the three terrorists in my car in a few seconds. This was not very difficult. The big issue, however, was to make sure that my other friends remain safe once their car approaches our car: my friends had no arms with them and their captors were fully armed with deadly automatic weapons. This was indeed a very a very tense moment and I thought and thought, over and over again, even as I was off and on asked various questions by my captors. In the end I opted not to go ahead with any misadventure and voluntarily gave my pistol to the Taliban who received it with a sudden realization of their blunder but simultaneously appreciating my move, which I actually expected. In fact, I also wanted to gain as much good well and trust as possible for our benefit for days ahead. Again at a certain place, when our abductors had to stop on the man road as our Toyota car was running out of fuel, my driver Mr. Bhutto looked at me and through the gestures of his eyes sought my permission to attack the kidnappers but given our limitations and strong chances of collateral damage, I declined the idea and he complied. Later he told me in our detention room that he had seen some persons, loyal to an anti-Taliban group headed by one Mangal Bagh Afridi, who may have helped if we had attacked the kidnappers. In my view this expectation was rather unrealistic and still dangerous as the Taliban had suicide jackets with them, which would have exploded in the event of a shootout and that would have been disastrous for all of us.My longest stressful journey In our journey from the place of abduction to the place where we were kept, the Taliban had almost completed their investigation regarding our identity, background, income and other relevant information. This was indeed the most stressful journey I ever had. I was not fully able to get rid of thinking about those I had left behind: will my mother survive if she learns about my kidnapping? How will my father bear this grief? How will my wife and kids reconcile to the reality of spending days and nights without me in that house? Will I ever see my little Sara again in life? How will my other relatives and friends respond to the situation? What will be the demoralizing influence on my staff at Torkham and fellow officers elsewhere? Will we be really left alone by the Amir Sahib or will we also be slaughtered in typical Taliban style? Are these genuine Taliban or professional kidnappers? What are the motives of our abductors? Questions like these and many more distressing questions kept flocking my mind throughout this journey. One very important thought that continued to reverberate in my mind was how will my old friend Muhammad Sher take the news of my abduction? We had lost a very dear friend, Matiullah Burki, in prime youth back in 2004 during the first round of operation launched by Pakistani security forces in South Waziristan and his memory was still fresh. Was history repeating itself? Is Sher going to lose another friend? Is another family going to be devastated? I wished it were a dream, not a harsh reality from which I had no immediate safe escape. By dusk we reached -----------where all sorts of smuggled goods were being brought from Afghanistan on mules, camels and donkeys for onwards transportation to Peshawar. Our corolla car had very little petrol and CNG left in it while there was still a long way to go as we later found. The Taliban parked the state car on road side in an unpopulated area and the other car was taken to the nearby bazaar for refuelling. It was here that I talked to my fellow abductees for some time and found that they were in very bad shape. The driver Mr. Bhutto was crying when he saw his son’s picture on his mobile being used by one Talib. Mr. Siddiq Akbar, Inspector, was apparently in better shape but quite uncomfortable more so due the shrill and heart-rending poems being played in the car as he later confided to me. I tried in my own little way to console them and assure them that our captors were ‘good’ people and they have picked up due to misunderstanding and will release all of us safely very soon. I must say that while Siddiq was doing rather well, the other two guys were totally overwhelmed by the incident. So long as they remained with us in captivity, I and Mr. Siddiq used to solace them and keep their mood and morale up, with little success of course. Indeed their release after four days was a great relief, not only to them and their relatives but also to me and Siddiq Akbar. Our kidnapers told us that there are a few check posts where Arab and Uzbek Mujahedeen will be inquiring about us and that we must tell them that we were Taliban’s guests. This, they said, would save us from slaughter from the hands of these Arab and Uzbek Mujahedeen who have zero tolerance for any government servant. Later on, we realized that there were no such Mujahedeen on our way: the Taliban had actually done this in order to avoid any problem in case the Khasadars asked at any Check Point. There were about three Khasadar check posts on the way at various points but at no check point any official of the political administration dared ask our abductors regarding us, although I kept on hoping against hope, in vain though, that someone may attend to the call of duty. At one check post in Aurakzai Agency, we heard the Taliban discuss the plan as they apprehended interrogation from the Khasadars and they said in case the Khasadars resisted, they will launch a do-or-die attack. Our faces were covered in black Taliban caps and we could not see anything outside but I really had my concerns in case there is a shootout, especially when it was extremely dark and chilly outside. However, it seemed the Taliban prevailed and the Khasadars cleared the road for Taliban vehicles to go ahead. Finally after travelling for about ten hours, we reached our destination in Aurakzai Agency at about midnight. The weather was chilly and we were hungry also. However, that night we had to go to sleep without having taken even a morsel. We were taken out of the vehicles and taken to a large room of a mud house. Our faces were covered in the typical Taliban black caps. The room had sufficient sleeping bags and quilts for all of us and we were soon lying on ground in our sleeping bags. During the entire journey we asked our abductors to allow us to pray but they paid no heed. Later in our discussions we learnt that according to them when “Jihad’’ becomes “Farze Ain”, all other “Faraiz” become “Saqit”, hence their paying less attention to offering prayers. Most of the Taliban were also oblivious of cleanliness and took bath once a week at the most. Some of them used snuff also.Days of captivityAmong my fellow abductees, I stayed in captivity for the longest time. The driver Mr. Bhutto was released almost within forty eight hours of our abduction. His release was the combined result of my persuading the Taliban as well as passionate requests of his family members, particularly his uncle whom the Taliban had called up. The Taliban also had confirmed that the car in possession of Mr. Bhutto was actually not official but Bhutto’s personal. The Taliban also realised that the driver was a poor man, hence finally they released him. Bhutto’s release helped us in conveying our message to family and friends regarding our safety, location and future course of action.With the release of Mr. Bhutto I got a little relaxed: firstly because through him the Taliban conveyed to us that we have been abducted for getting their two fellow Talibans currently in ISI custody; secondly, because he was the source through which our family and friends came to know about our condition. However, his departure was misinterpreted by Mr.Kamran as he developed suspicions that the Taliban will ‘slaughter’ us sooner than not. Once I asked him to remember Allah and recite the Holy Quran. However, while reading the Holy Quran he suddenly started crying and saying “O Allah, Help us: they are going to slaughter us”. This really made me and my friend Mr. Siddiq upset and we rebuked Mr.Kamran for showing such a weak character. In the meantime, the Taliban continued inquiring about the social status of Mr.Kamran and as a result of such inquiry the Taliban finally released him also unconditionally. We advised Mr.Kamran not to indulge in unnecessary exchange of information with many people and to just inform our family that we were doing well. Living among the TalibanLiving among the Taliban was indeed a terrible and un-nerving experience. They provided us the same food which they ate. Some of them also stayed at night with us in the same room, using the similar quilts and sleeping bags. Usually they would first serve us the food and then would eat themselves. Their most frequent dish was “saag” and wheat bread cooked on clay “tawwa”, hence the bread was partly burnt black. The room in which we were lodged was full of heavy arms, explosives, RPGs and anti-tank mines. It was always locked from outside, except when we would be going out to the nearby lavatory. On our request, they provided us the Holy Quran and later a few books, all on Jihad. These books were “Kitabul Jihad” by Abdullah Ibne Mubarak, “Maidan Pukaarte Hain” by Abdullah Azzam (late), “Adaabe Zindagi” by Yousaf Islahi and another book on Jihad by Abdullah Azzam (late). We did not take bath for eight consecutive days although I hardly remember any day when I have not taken a bath early in the morning during last twenty years or so. When I realized that the stay would prolong, then finally I requested them for warm water and wash room which were arranged and I took bath but wore the same old clothes. Luckily, however, since I was wearing brown clothes, they always looked fresh. On the other hand, Mr.Siddiq Akbar was wearing white cotton clothes and since there was a lot of dust in the room, his clothes literally turned grey, if not black, after a few days. But while his clothes were turning grey, so did our faces and beard.The latrine we were normally using was a place one never wanted to visit again, if one could, but there was no other choice available to us. I am yet to see a lavatory in worse condition than that: there was no proper drainage, no fresh water supply, no door and one could not properly breathe due to abhorable smell. The senior Taliban used two separate rooms for living and storage of heavy arms and ammunition. There was one wash room available near those rooms. I used that wash room twice, each time I was taken there and brought back blindfolded. However, even blindfolded I could still peep through and see that the room was full of heavy arms and ammunition, including heavy machine gun, anti-aircraft guns and mortar guns.We had developed the practice of praying collectively in our detention room. The Taliban never prayed together with us, nor did they ate their meals with us, until last two three days when I was alone as all my friends had been released one by one. One ‘fine’ morning, when we got up for prayer, Mr.Kamran told his captors that he wanted to take a bath “ghusl” before he could pray. This was indeed quite funny and Mr. Siddiq Akbar could not resist cutting joke against poor Kamran, who responded by saying “I wonder how come Satan (Shaitan) made his way to this place of terror where no one would dare come?” Anyway, Kamran managed to join us on prayer. A murder in cold bloodIt was perhaps on the sixth night of our stay with the Taliban when at around 10 pm a young but rather frail and bony junior ranking officer of FIU of FC was suddenly bundled into our room. We were already in our sleeping bags and were about to go to sleep when the Taliban barged into our room with the captive in chains. They had already given him sound beating in their main markaz. The man introduced himself as a Lance Naik in F.C and was in service for about fifteen years. He hailed from Bara Khyber Agency and was recently posted to the area where it was relatively difficult to find useful informants due to the strong Taliban presence there. However, the unfortunate fellow fell prey to the Taliban agents instead of finding his own agents. The Taliban agents trapped him and soon he was in their captivity. Soon after his arrival in the room, Mr. Haider, a Talib, came in and warned us that the Amir Sahib was very angry at us because some elements were trying to influence him regarding our release. Threatening us of a similar treatment soon, he started giving lashes to the poor F.C man to coerce him into confessional statement. He was given some food but no water to drink despite his repeated requests. The Taliban gathered in the room and asked him to give full account of his anti-Taliban activities during last several years. Despite the physical torture he had received at their hands, he told his captors that he has nothing to tell them unless they wanted to hear lies. However, they were not satisfied and started kicking, slapping, punching and beating him with lashes made of PVC wire as well as wooden sticks. There was thick dust in room due to the worst manhandling I have ever seen with my eyes. The man was unbelievably tough and did not either cry or shed any tear. He was however very thirsty and repeatedly implored his executors to give him water but they would inflict lashes each time he wanted water. Finally, they tied his two legs together, hanged him upside down from the iron beam and started beating him with full force. We could clearly see blood oozing out and trickling out of his wounds, spreading over the whole body, particularly his back, legs and arms. One Talib confided to me that the man had been given bath in cold water after the first round of torture in another concentration camp “markaz”. After severe physical torture through beating, they untied the man and started sprinkling salt on his bleeding wounds. Amazingly, the man still showed no signs of pain nor moaned. At this point however he started giving an account of his activities undertaken by him over the years against the Taliban in Bajaur, Mohmand, Warsak and Aurakzai Agency. He also disclosed names of a few who were working in Aurakzai Agency against the Taliban. Whatever he was saying now was being recorded by a Talib named Haider. Another Talib brought slat and put it on the bleeding wounds. It was an unbearable situation, more so because we felt so helpless to do anything about it. Each time he implored the Amir for some water, he would get only more lashes. With no drop of saliva in his mouth and throat, the man could hardly speak: he seemed like a dying thirsty bird (as a young village boy, I had seen in scorching summer thirsty birds, with their beaks gaped wide badly in need of water). All this torture and recording of statement took place under the presence and command of Mr. Hilal, the Amir of our kidnappers. The man then requested for allowing him to attend latrine but he was not allowed. When the Taliban felt that it was getting late at night and sufficient information has been divulged by the man, they decided to leave further proceedings to the next day and tying his hands behind, left the man on ground to his fate. At this point the Amir expressed his intention to hang the poor man in upside down position outside the room in the chilly open air but I beseeched his conscience and pleaded to leave the man inside in view of the severe cold outside. Unbelievably enough, the Amir not only agreed to my request, he also allowed that hands of the man to be untied.After a while when the light was switched off and we entered into our sleeping bags, we realized how much of dust was lying on our quilts and sleeping bags. It was not until next three days or so when finally I managed to wash the dust from my head and face. How can one sleep after witnessing such inhuman brutality in the name of Islam, Jihad and revenge? I tried and tried but sleep was not possible that night. No sooner did we cover our faces in the sleeping bags then the poor Lance Naik started moaning in pain now. Intermittently he would call “Amir Sahib, Amir Sahib” to seek permission of his captors for going to latrine for urination but was not replied by Mr. Haider who was In Charge of the room. At one point Mr. Haider warned him to keep quite and not to moan but when the man did not stop moaning. At this Mr. Haider got up and gave him a few more lashes after which he remained quiet for a while. Shortly afterwards, however, he started moaning again. At around 4 am or so, the man vomited blood and after a few minutes requested that his end was near so he may please be set in straight position, facing qibla. A junior Talib, Mr Imran from Swat, went up to him and did accordingly. The last words I remember he uttered were “Amir Saib,.....Amir,.......Am......” and then there was complete silence. The man was finally free from more torture of the Taliban. If I could cry, I would have cried to the Heaven and cried my heavy heart out but alas! I had no tears in my eyes. Yet my heart was burning with anger, grief and frustration. A deep sense of hatred would surge in my heart for these butchers but would find no expression. I felt like being choked to death.I was waking throughout that night, thinking of the poor man’s end, his kids back home and the toughness displayed by the man even in the face of such brutality. I was thinking of what is going on in our beloved country, what new shape Jihad has been given, what sort of Muslims these so-called Taliban are, who is the true martyr: the FC man or the Talib and so on. I found no definite and conclusive answer to my questions. I tried to reflect on the entire history of the struggle of the Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) and could not recollect even one instance where the prophet of mercy or any of his companion ever allowed such brutal treatment of even non-Muslim prisoners, whether before or after the conquest of Mecca. Who is training, financing, brain-washing and arming these so-called Mujahedeen? On my mind was the verse of Holy Quran which says “And shall I tell you of the worst wasteful deeds: it is the actions of those (persons) who waste their efforts (and energies) in this world, yet believing (in vain) that they are doing the most pious things”. I wish I could engage them in an in-depth discussion on the legality and propriety of their acts in the light of Islam but I knew they were neither ready for such a debate nor capable of such intellectual discourse. Not long afterwards, the Muezzin called for the Morning Prayer and we got up, did ablution and offered prayers. As usual it was very cold and as such we re-entered our sleeping bags, trying unsuccessfully to sleep. Hardly a few minutes passed when tea arrived and we had our breakfast, with a dead man’s body on our side and blood stained sleeping bags of the deceased lying behind us. We would try not to divert our attention but the images of dead man’s torturous exit from life haunted us relentlessly. The warning conveyed to us by the Taliban before they killed the F.C man was still at the back of our mind. This was an unforgettable breakfast indeed. Our detention room was situated in the bottom of a sky-high mountain; hence sunlight would come quite late in the morning. As the day progressed, the Taliban came and directed us to put our head-covers on and move out of the room with them. They escorted us to a trench-type place on the nearby mountain, where my leg was tied with Mr. Siddiq Akbar’s leg with iron chain and then locked. Two armed Taliban guards Mr. Usman and Mr. Ahmed were deputed to guard us. We enjoyed the sunlight after a few days and breathed in the open air, listening to the free birds flying and chirping around. We could also hear the voices of school kids from the nearby school and the sounds of a rural village life were also quite audible. This situation reminded me of two things. First, an essay by Charles Lamb “Oxford in Vacation” regarding the feelings of miserable hostel students, fed up with their hostel depressing life, during their rare excursions to the rural lands, and envying the free birds and nearby cattle. Secondly it reminded of a saying of the Holy Prophet that five things should be considered “ghanimah” before five things: life before death, health before illness, youth before old age, prosperity before poverty and leisure before getting busy. I thought, one would like to add, “Freedom before captivity”. I was also speculating on how to avoid such a humiliating treatment at the hands of our captors. If ultimately the Taliban decided to kill us, we would make one passionate request: to just kill us away from each other so that none of us witness whatever manner the other gets killed. After all, if the sight of a stranger’s execution was so painful, how could we bear the shock and agony of seeing our fellow officer’s death in such a humiliating and gruesome manner? While I was lost in such thought-process, in the meantime, the Taliban had packed the man in a sack and taken him away to throw him on the roadside with a written warning to others who would dare spy on the Taliban. When the dead body was removed, we were taken back to our detention room where we went to sleep to make up for the loss of sleep at night.Life was different and difficult after the murder incident. Every day and every night the dead man’s misery before death and the grief that befell the bereaved family would come back to our memory and sadden us. Despite this haunting experience, we would try to divert our attention by discussing various topics, ranging from our experiences in university to political topics and history. We would also, at times, share jokes and laugh. Later we realized that if our captors heard us laugh so loud and so often, they may get the impression that we are happy and this may hamper our early release. Resultantly, we would avoid loud laughter, especially when our captors were near-by our detention room. I also used to do some simple exercises in the evening, especially after I developed minor gastric trouble, perhaps due to lack of balanced diet, no activity and relentless stress. Prayers and recitation from the Holy Quran were other useful activities. Most of the time, however, we would lie down inside our sleeping bags, more so because it was very cold inside the room, even during day time. I would try to stay positive and think of those who went through similar or worse situation and get inspiration. One such person who remained my inspiration was of course Nelson Mandela whose biography “Long walk to freedom” I had recently read. However, most of the time, we used to sleep. Slowly and gradually, it became my habit to sleep during the day and remain waking almost throughout the night. This problem continued for a few days even after my release.
Sometimes the Taliban would allow us to stay in the sunlight for some time. But normally they kept us locked inside our room, particularly when “guests” would be coming. There was a room above our detention room: it was used by the owner of the house, who was an old man of simple and gentle disposition. I saw him twice and each time he requested the Taliban to finalise our cases quickly. It was his son, a young, frail and thin-bearded fellow, who would later escort us along with the Taliban up to a nearby filling station from where we were delivered to Mr. Afsar Khan and Haji Abdul Hameed, both Mehsood from North Waziristan. I personally saw that guy only twice during my 12 days captivity. One Talib, they called Muhammad, was truly gentle and very kind hearted, at least to us. Probably, this was their strategy to partly try and change our minds in their favour for future purposes and partly to keep a balance between harshness and leniency. He would try to make us feel comfortable, would sit with us and engage us in chit chat, and also on a few occasions got prepared some dishes of our choice. He was most apologetic for what we were going through but he had no authority to decide our fate. On a couple of occasions he gave us feedback and advice based on his first hand information regarding what the Taliban were planning or thinking about next course of action. I am personally sure that he would be a voice in our support in Talibans meetings about our case. I had nothing to thank him, except words of appreciation and prayers. Before departure for my home, I gifted my personal paijama to him. The other Talib dealt with us courteously was named Imran and was from Swat but his parents lived in Karachi. He was the one who informed me that Mr.Hakeemullah Mehsud, Mr. Baitullah Mehsud’s deputy, had asked their Amir, Mr. Hilal, to consider our case leniently. I was surprised as to who may have asked Hakeemullah but I had really no clue. It was after my release that I came to know who actually was behind this move. One day before my release I took a bath and the Taliban provided me clothes, which belonged to Mr. Imran. When the next day I was given my new clothes, brought from my home by my best friend Mr. Muhammad Sher and my brother Noor Elahi, I offered my earlier clothes to Mr. Imran in recognition of his support and cooperation on many occasions.The first time we were able to talk to the people back home was also after a couple of days after the murder of incident. We were asked by the Taliban to stress upon our relatives to arrange a hefty sum as demanded by the Taliban for our release. We were taken to a nearby mountain, about half an hour drive away from our lodge, for this purpose because there were no signals in the place where we were placed. There was a Khasadar Check Post on our way but the Khasadars did not bother to check the Taliban, although they could see us blind-folded inside the vehicle. When we reached the mountain top, it was Mr.Siddiq who first talked on phone to his relatives. He was informed by his nephew that his mother is in coma, news that shook Siddiq badly and he cried like a teenage boy after his dying mother. I tried to console him but all in vain. This was the first time I saw Mr. Siddiq losing his composure and given his profound emotional attachment to his mother, I think it was quite natural. While Siddiq continued sobbing, it was my turn to talk to my people. First I called up Mr. Sher. When Sher heard my voice for the first time after my abduction, his reaction was moving. Saying, ‘God!!!!’ he paused for a little while. I could feel the tempest of heart-felt emotions overpowering him but with his typical well power he regained himself and re-started, “are you all right Sir?” I wished I could tell him what we had gone through during the last few days and nights but this was a test of character and we were men. I told him that we doing rather well but that he should do everything he could, visit friends, call a few relatives and arrange the money demanded by the captors. During the course of my conversation with Sher, the Taliban asked me to tell Sher to arrange the specified amount. Information about the actual demanded amount was however not shared with us by the Taliban. Mr. Sher assured me of his best efforts but again started inquiring about my well being. I had to cut short our brief conversation as I had to talk to my wife as well.Next I rang up my wife but as usual she was away from her phone and as such my mother-in-law attended the phone call. Like any other woman, she was too nervous and too worried to carry on a normal telephonic conversation with the one whose future, and that of his kids, hang in the balance. She continued asking, “Hello! Where are you? Hello, How are you? Hello! Hello!”( Later after my release she told me, she did not know what she was saying then). Time was short as the sun was getting down and the Taliban were asking us to be quick lest they are fired upon from the “enemy” posts in the adjacent mountains. I asked her to give phone to my wife but instead she gave it to my sister in law. I thought I should instruct her instead of my wife, if the latter was not readily available but my agile sister in law took the mobile phone to my wife and I told her how I was and exchanged words of courage. Then she asked me to talk to my son Omar and daughter Aisha also. I advised both the kids on turn to be nice to their mother, to do their home work regularly and not to fight with each other. Aisha asked me, “Papa, when will you come? Please come back quickly.” I promised her to be back soon.For the next two days, we hoped that our friends and relatives must have made every effort and arranged the amount. However, it was not yet clear as to how much amount is actually demanded by the Taliban. On my passionate request, Mr. Haider, a senior Talib, had assured me that the amount would be reasonable. I also requested Mr. Imran and Mr. Muhammad to convince Mr.Hilal for leniency. They assured us of their support. One day, when I and my friend Mr.Siddiq were chatting in a rather light mood, in came to our room the local Aurakzai Talib, Mr. Hanif with another Talib and sat before us in a visibly hostile posture. With a touch of merciless butcher on his darkish face, mostly covered in bushy and dusty beard, he started, “Amir Sahib is losing his patience for you two: your relatives are not serious in your release as they have not arranged the amount yet, and instead they are trying to pressurise Amir Sahib through various sources. Now you have two days more in which either your people send us the ransom amount or we resort to what you have already seen”. This message from the Amir was really very disturbing for both of us. Without giving in to vile speculations and self-pity, I responded by asking him to take us to the mountain top for giving a final wake up call to our people before it is too late. They agreed but insisted that only one of us will go with them for the telephone call. We decided that I should go up there and talk to the contact persons for immediate action for our release. Soon we were on our way towards the mountain top and Mr. Hanif was again driving like a crazy marauder on the run. Again we crossed the Khasadar check post, but no Khasadar dared ask why there was a masked man inside the vehicle. On the mountain top I called up Mr. Sher again and asked him to listen carefully, “If you did not arrange this amount in next two days, you will get our dead bodies”. Sher assured me that he was doing his utmost and that he will be leaving for Hangu the next morning with the money and that we will be released soon. I also beseeched him to stop those people who were trying to influence the Taliban otherwise and he informed that he has already been requesting everybody to stop doing this. (continues....)THE D-DAY25th November, 2008 was a day which began as usual like any other day but ended in most dramatic manner for me, my relatives, friends and well wishers. Earlier in the day at office I was pleased to know that the much-needed internet connectivity has been established at Torkham, thanks to the efforts of a few individuals. It was, however, learnt that the clearing agents and their local touts were in no mood to utilise the newly established internet service facility for e-filing. I immediately summoned their president Mr. Nasir Shinwari to my office and briefed him about the importance and benefit s of e-filing. Mr.Nasir listened to my ‘lecture’ silently and then responded by saying that although he will consult other agents but there is less likelihood that agents may switch over to e-filing. However the reasons he cited were totally untenable and baseless. Later in the day, a delegation of Afghan Customs officers visited my office and we exchanged views on various issues facing customs staff and the traders on both sides of the border. After the lunch, Afghan Customs officers were seen off at PAK-Afghan border at around 2.30 PM to 2.40 PM. Soon after seeing off the Afghan Customs officers I returned to my office and tried to immediately leave for Peshawar. However, I stayed for a few minutes more to dispose off pending works of urgent nature. At about 3 pm I asked my sepoy to get the car ready at the back of my office to keep our departure invisible. Customs Inspector Mr. Siddiq Akbar and Mr.Kamran of M/S PRAL were also ready and we proceeded to the car. When I came out of my office I found that Mr. Irshad was waiting for me and he not only shook hands with me but also accompanied me up to my car. I asked him to complete a small task I had assigned to him for installing Steno’s telephone at my office. Other than Irshad I don’t know whether any other person witnessed my departure. The Moment In order to avoid being seen at the time of my departure from office, I used the back door of my office and started for Peshawar in a private Toyota Car, bypassing Landi Kotal Bazar. Our journey back home was pretty comfortable as we gossiped and as usual looking at the surrounding barren mountains, trying to reflect on the historical background of the valley. On our way one of our friends Mr.Hidayat, Customs Inspector, called on my mobile phone and requested to ask A.C Kohat for the posting of an Inspector. I did not like the idea but requested A.C Kohat to consider the request and he promised. After a while I called up Mr.Hidayat to inform him accordingly. At this point we had just crossed the house of former Senator Haji Gul Sher Afridi. As our car crossed the ‘’khwar” and reached the curved part of the road, I was still talking to Mr.Hidayat on phone. Suddenly, I saw that a state car, called “ghwagai” in local parlance, blocked the road in front of our speeding car. Within no time armed terrorists surrounded our car. They were fully armed with AK-47, hand grenades, suicide jackets and RPGs. With ferocious speed they coerced us to follow what they say. The driver tried to persuade them into sparing him disclosing his identity as a local person known to notable malik in Jamrud but the terrorists subdued him with fists and buts of AK-47. For a moment, I was badly shaken. The image of one terrorist, with marks of vitiligo “bragay” on his face- all set to shoot and kill, shouting at us to immediately sit in their vehicle or else will be shot dead- seized and blocked my mind. At this terrible moment, I forgot even to inform Mr.Hidayat about our kidnapping. That was the only time I was not totally in normal composure and this happened only for a minute or two. Very soon, however, I started realizing the grim reality of my abduction. I asked both my colleagues and captors to remain calm and not to panic. I had to say this partly because this was self-consoling but also because two of my colleagues were crying and needed some words of hope. More importantly, it was meant to keep the terrorist driver drive a little carefully on the bumpy road meandering through the rugged and steep mountain. As we were climbing up that inhospitable and sky-high mountain, I could see the plain below and the main road we had left, getting farther and farther as did our hope of returning home. Although I was quite composed by then, soon the thought of my near and dear ones came to my mind with a sense of pain and despair. I was particularly worried about my mother and my little daughter, Sara, then hardly seven months old, although I was not oblivious to the shock that other family members and friends alike were to get. In the heat of movement, the terrorists put me in their state car while all my three colleagues Mr.Siddiq Akbar, Mr.Kamran and Mr. Bhutto were driven in our own corolla car. The man whose terrifying face had struck my vision was with us in the state car. He immediately asked me if I was an NGO worker spreading bad ideas in girls schools. To this I responded in the negative and gave him my ID Card to confirm that I was from Customs Department. He then said that they have been informed by some quarters that we were NGO officials and that we will be freed after we are heard by Taliban’s Amir. He also assured me that in case we were not from NGO, they will reveal to us the person who gave wrong information to them about us and caused us hardships. This assurance, although subsequently proved false, was of great relief for the time being. Our kidnappers disclosed their real intentions on the third day of the incident. The abductors describedWhile we were being driven away by the Taliban in a display of reckless driving, I did believe what that man with lukoderma told us that we will be with them only for a night and then we will be set free after confirming that we do not belong to any NGO. During discussion on the way, he told me that he was once a student of B.A at Quide Azam University but after the tragedy of Lal Masjid, he bid farewell to studies and joined the Taliban to avenge the deaths of those hundreds of innocent students, both male and female. He was from Shangla District of NWFP. The state car was driven by a young man, named Hanif, from Aurakzai Agency. He had a repulsive appearance, with dusty hair, untrimmed bushy beard, dark black eyes, dirty clothes and rough manners. He was driving like he wanted to commit suicide: remaining safe in such driving was indeed another miracle as was our ultimate release after twelve arduous days. This man from Aurakzai Agency was fond of listening to the typical Taliban audio cassettes containing poems about the Taliban and their brand of ‘Jihad’. These poems were so repelling to hearing and had a very damaging impact on mind and heart of the captured. The third person sitting in our state car was a young Talib, who was continuously reciting some prayers and verses from the Holy Quran. He was rather quiet and spoke very little. Later this fellow turned out to be a very well meaning, shy and relatively kind person. He would sit with us and discuss things, trying to provide us whatever comfort he could, allowing us to enjoy some sunlight, arrange for warm water, tissue paper, mineral water and even some nice dishes at times. His name was Muhammad and his accent suggested that he was from Peshawar District as he also admitted but never showed his full address like his fellow Talibans. Three other Taliban who were sitting with my friends in our own corolla car were named Mr.Hilal (whom we later found to be the leader of the group), Mr. Haider and Mr. Imran, the last being the youngest (21) and the first being the eldest (32). Of these Imran was from Swat District but, according to him, his family was living in Karachi. At the age of 21 he was already married and had kids. He had a twin brother too and had worked in Karachi with his father as cart pusher (Rerhi Ban). By the way, all the Taliban were from very poor families. Some of these Taliban were totally illiterate while some had been to schools or madressa for some time: no one had completed his studies though. Subsequently, a few more Taliban also interacted with us. Of these notable names are of Mr. Usman, a young and charming boy in his twenties from Peshawar, Mr. Haris from Swabi and Mr. Ahmed from Miranshah North Waziristan Agency. The only suicide bomber who stayed in the same room with me for one night was from Waziristan Agency and was a young boy in his mid teens, totally illiterate and devoid of manners. There was one very important local Talib of Aurakzai Agency, whom I found not only comparatively kind-hearted but also more informed and interested in intellectual debates, but whose name I could not ascertain. He was later to play important role in negotiating my release just two days before Eid. To shoot or not to shootWithin first ten minutes of the kidnapping, I was engaged in a very serious and consequential thought process. The Taliban were not wise enough or alert enough to carry out our physical search: they only took AK-47 from our driver Mr. Bhutto but I was also carrying a Taurus pistol, fully loaded but locked, at that time. What I could do was to unlock the pistol in my side pocket and get rid of the three terrorists in my car in a few seconds. This was not very difficult. The big issue, however, was to make sure that my other friends remain safe once their car approaches our car: my friends had no arms with them and their captors were fully armed with deadly automatic weapons. This was indeed a very a very tense moment and I thought and thought, over and over again, even as I was off and on asked various questions by my captors. In the end I opted not to go ahead with any misadventure and voluntarily gave my pistol to the Taliban who received it with a sudden realization of their blunder but simultaneously appreciating my move, which I actually expected. In fact, I also wanted to gain as much good well and trust as possible for our benefit for days ahead. Again at a certain place, when our abductors had to stop on the man road as our Toyota car was running out of fuel, my driver Mr. Bhutto looked at me and through the gestures of his eyes sought my permission to attack the kidnappers but given our limitations and strong chances of collateral damage, I declined the idea and he complied. Later he told me in our detention room that he had seen some persons, loyal to an anti-Taliban group headed by one Mangal Bagh Afridi, who may have helped if we had attacked the kidnappers. In my view this expectation was rather unrealistic and still dangerous as the Taliban had suicide jackets with them, which would have exploded in the event of a shootout and that would have been disastrous for all of us.My longest stressful journey In our journey from the place of abduction to the place where we were kept, the Taliban had almost completed their investigation regarding our identity, background, income and other relevant information. This was indeed the most stressful journey I ever had. I was not fully able to get rid of thinking about those I had left behind: will my mother survive if she learns about my kidnapping? How will my father bear this grief? How will my wife and kids reconcile to the reality of spending days and nights without me in that house? Will I ever see my little Sara again in life? How will my other relatives and friends respond to the situation? What will be the demoralizing influence on my staff at Torkham and fellow officers elsewhere? Will we be really left alone by the Amir Sahib or will we also be slaughtered in typical Taliban style? Are these genuine Taliban or professional kidnappers? What are the motives of our abductors? Questions like these and many more distressing questions kept flocking my mind throughout this journey. One very important thought that continued to reverberate in my mind was how will my old friend Muhammad Sher take the news of my abduction? We had lost a very dear friend, Matiullah Burki, in prime youth back in 2004 during the first round of operation launched by Pakistani security forces in South Waziristan and his memory was still fresh. Was history repeating itself? Is Sher going to lose another friend? Is another family going to be devastated? I wished it were a dream, not a harsh reality from which I had no immediate safe escape. By dusk we reached -----------where all sorts of smuggled goods were being brought from Afghanistan on mules, camels and donkeys for onwards transportation to Peshawar. Our corolla car had very little petrol and CNG left in it while there was still a long way to go as we later found. The Taliban parked the state car on road side in an unpopulated area and the other car was taken to the nearby bazaar for refuelling. It was here that I talked to my fellow abductees for some time and found that they were in very bad shape. The driver Mr. Bhutto was crying when he saw his son’s picture on his mobile being used by one Talib. Mr. Siddiq Akbar, Inspector, was apparently in better shape but quite uncomfortable more so due the shrill and heart-rending poems being played in the car as he later confided to me. I tried in my own little way to console them and assure them that our captors were ‘good’ people and they have picked up due to misunderstanding and will release all of us safely very soon. I must say that while Siddiq was doing rather well, the other two guys were totally overwhelmed by the incident. So long as they remained with us in captivity, I and Mr. Siddiq used to solace them and keep their mood and morale up, with little success of course. Indeed their release after four days was a great relief, not only to them and their relatives but also to me and Siddiq Akbar. Our kidnapers told us that there are a few check posts where Arab and Uzbek Mujahedeen will be inquiring about us and that we must tell them that we were Taliban’s guests. This, they said, would save us from slaughter from the hands of these Arab and Uzbek Mujahedeen who have zero tolerance for any government servant. Later on, we realized that there were no such Mujahedeen on our way: the Taliban had actually done this in order to avoid any problem in case the Khasadars asked at any Check Point. There were about three Khasadar check posts on the way at various points but at no check point any official of the political administration dared ask our abductors regarding us, although I kept on hoping against hope, in vain though, that someone may attend to the call of duty. At one check post in Aurakzai Agency, we heard the Taliban discuss the plan as they apprehended interrogation from the Khasadars and they said in case the Khasadars resisted, they will launch a do-or-die attack. Our faces were covered in black Taliban caps and we could not see anything outside but I really had my concerns in case there is a shootout, especially when it was extremely dark and chilly outside. However, it seemed the Taliban prevailed and the Khasadars cleared the road for Taliban vehicles to go ahead. Finally after travelling for about ten hours, we reached our destination in Aurakzai Agency at about midnight. The weather was chilly and we were hungry also. However, that night we had to go to sleep without having taken even a morsel. We were taken out of the vehicles and taken to a large room of a mud house. Our faces were covered in the typical Taliban black caps. The room had sufficient sleeping bags and quilts for all of us and we were soon lying on ground in our sleeping bags. During the entire journey we asked our abductors to allow us to pray but they paid no heed. Later in our discussions we learnt that according to them when “Jihad’’ becomes “Farze Ain”, all other “Faraiz” become “Saqit”, hence their paying less attention to offering prayers. Most of the Taliban were also oblivious of cleanliness and took bath once a week at the most. Some of them used snuff also.Days of captivityAmong my fellow abductees, I stayed in captivity for the longest time. The driver Mr. Bhutto was released almost within forty eight hours of our abduction. His release was the combined result of my persuading the Taliban as well as passionate requests of his family members, particularly his uncle whom the Taliban had called up. The Taliban also had confirmed that the car in possession of Mr. Bhutto was actually not official but Bhutto’s personal. The Taliban also realised that the driver was a poor man, hence finally they released him. Bhutto’s release helped us in conveying our message to family and friends regarding our safety, location and future course of action.With the release of Mr. Bhutto I got a little relaxed: firstly because through him the Taliban conveyed to us that we have been abducted for getting their two fellow Talibans currently in ISI custody; secondly, because he was the source through which our family and friends came to know about our condition. However, his departure was misinterpreted by Mr.Kamran as he developed suspicions that the Taliban will ‘slaughter’ us sooner than not. Once I asked him to remember Allah and recite the Holy Quran. However, while reading the Holy Quran he suddenly started crying and saying “O Allah, Help us: they are going to slaughter us”. This really made me and my friend Mr. Siddiq upset and we rebuked Mr.Kamran for showing such a weak character. In the meantime, the Taliban continued inquiring about the social status of Mr.Kamran and as a result of such inquiry the Taliban finally released him also unconditionally. We advised Mr.Kamran not to indulge in unnecessary exchange of information with many people and to just inform our family that we were doing well. Living among the TalibanLiving among the Taliban was indeed a terrible and un-nerving experience. They provided us the same food which they ate. Some of them also stayed at night with us in the same room, using the similar quilts and sleeping bags. Usually they would first serve us the food and then would eat themselves. Their most frequent dish was “saag” and wheat bread cooked on clay “tawwa”, hence the bread was partly burnt black. The room in which we were lodged was full of heavy arms, explosives, RPGs and anti-tank mines. It was always locked from outside, except when we would be going out to the nearby lavatory. On our request, they provided us the Holy Quran and later a few books, all on Jihad. These books were “Kitabul Jihad” by Abdullah Ibne Mubarak, “Maidan Pukaarte Hain” by Abdullah Azzam (late), “Adaabe Zindagi” by Yousaf Islahi and another book on Jihad by Abdullah Azzam (late). We did not take bath for eight consecutive days although I hardly remember any day when I have not taken a bath early in the morning during last twenty years or so. When I realized that the stay would prolong, then finally I requested them for warm water and wash room which were arranged and I took bath but wore the same old clothes. Luckily, however, since I was wearing brown clothes, they always looked fresh. On the other hand, Mr.Siddiq Akbar was wearing white cotton clothes and since there was a lot of dust in the room, his clothes literally turned grey, if not black, after a few days. But while his clothes were turning grey, so did our faces and beard.The latrine we were normally using was a place one never wanted to visit again, if one could, but there was no other choice available to us. I am yet to see a lavatory in worse condition than that: there was no proper drainage, no fresh water supply, no door and one could not properly breathe due to abhorable smell. The senior Taliban used two separate rooms for living and storage of heavy arms and ammunition. There was one wash room available near those rooms. I used that wash room twice, each time I was taken there and brought back blindfolded. However, even blindfolded I could still peep through and see that the room was full of heavy arms and ammunition, including heavy machine gun, anti-aircraft guns and mortar guns.We had developed the practice of praying collectively in our detention room. The Taliban never prayed together with us, nor did they ate their meals with us, until last two three days when I was alone as all my friends had been released one by one. One ‘fine’ morning, when we got up for prayer, Mr.Kamran told his captors that he wanted to take a bath “ghusl” before he could pray. This was indeed quite funny and Mr. Siddiq Akbar could not resist cutting joke against poor Kamran, who responded by saying “I wonder how come Satan (Shaitan) made his way to this place of terror where no one would dare come?” Anyway, Kamran managed to join us on prayer. A murder in cold bloodIt was perhaps on the sixth night of our stay with the Taliban when at around 10 pm a young but rather frail and bony junior ranking officer of FIU of FC was suddenly bundled into our room. We were already in our sleeping bags and were about to go to sleep when the Taliban barged into our room with the captive in chains. They had already given him sound beating in their main markaz. The man introduced himself as a Lance Naik in F.C and was in service for about fifteen years. He hailed from Bara Khyber Agency and was recently posted to the area where it was relatively difficult to find useful informants due to the strong Taliban presence there. However, the unfortunate fellow fell prey to the Taliban agents instead of finding his own agents. The Taliban agents trapped him and soon he was in their captivity. Soon after his arrival in the room, Mr. Haider, a Talib, came in and warned us that the Amir Sahib was very angry at us because some elements were trying to influence him regarding our release. Threatening us of a similar treatment soon, he started giving lashes to the poor F.C man to coerce him into confessional statement. He was given some food but no water to drink despite his repeated requests. The Taliban gathered in the room and asked him to give full account of his anti-Taliban activities during last several years. Despite the physical torture he had received at their hands, he told his captors that he has nothing to tell them unless they wanted to hear lies. However, they were not satisfied and started kicking, slapping, punching and beating him with lashes made of PVC wire as well as wooden sticks. There was thick dust in room due to the worst manhandling I have ever seen with my eyes. The man was unbelievably tough and did not either cry or shed any tear. He was however very thirsty and repeatedly implored his executors to give him water but they would inflict lashes each time he wanted water. Finally, they tied his two legs together, hanged him upside down from the iron beam and started beating him with full force. We could clearly see blood oozing out and trickling out of his wounds, spreading over the whole body, particularly his back, legs and arms. One Talib confided to me that the man had been given bath in cold water after the first round of torture in another concentration camp “markaz”. After severe physical torture through beating, they untied the man and started sprinkling salt on his bleeding wounds. Amazingly, the man still showed no signs of pain nor moaned. At this point however he started giving an account of his activities undertaken by him over the years against the Taliban in Bajaur, Mohmand, Warsak and Aurakzai Agency. He also disclosed names of a few who were working in Aurakzai Agency against the Taliban. Whatever he was saying now was being recorded by a Talib named Haider. Another Talib brought slat and put it on the bleeding wounds. It was an unbearable situation, more so because we felt so helpless to do anything about it. Each time he implored the Amir for some water, he would get only more lashes. With no drop of saliva in his mouth and throat, the man could hardly speak: he seemed like a dying thirsty bird (as a young village boy, I had seen in scorching summer thirsty birds, with their beaks gaped wide badly in need of water). All this torture and recording of statement took place under the presence and command of Mr. Hilal, the Amir of our kidnappers. The man then requested for allowing him to attend latrine but he was not allowed. When the Taliban felt that it was getting late at night and sufficient information has been divulged by the man, they decided to leave further proceedings to the next day and tying his hands behind, left the man on ground to his fate. At this point the Amir expressed his intention to hang the poor man in upside down position outside the room in the chilly open air but I beseeched his conscience and pleaded to leave the man inside in view of the severe cold outside. Unbelievably enough, the Amir not only agreed to my request, he also allowed that hands of the man to be untied.After a while when the light was switched off and we entered into our sleeping bags, we realized how much of dust was lying on our quilts and sleeping bags. It was not until next three days or so when finally I managed to wash the dust from my head and face. How can one sleep after witnessing such inhuman brutality in the name of Islam, Jihad and revenge? I tried and tried but sleep was not possible that night. No sooner did we cover our faces in the sleeping bags then the poor Lance Naik started moaning in pain now. Intermittently he would call “Amir Sahib, Amir Sahib” to seek permission of his captors for going to latrine for urination but was not replied by Mr. Haider who was In Charge of the room. At one point Mr. Haider warned him to keep quite and not to moan but when the man did not stop moaning. At this Mr. Haider got up and gave him a few more lashes after which he remained quiet for a while. Shortly afterwards, however, he started moaning again. At around 4 am or so, the man vomited blood and after a few minutes requested that his end was near so he may please be set in straight position, facing qibla. A junior Talib, Mr Imran from Swat, went up to him and did accordingly. The last words I remember he uttered were “Amir Saib,.....Amir,.......Am......” and then there was complete silence. The man was finally free from more torture of the Taliban. If I could cry, I would have cried to the Heaven and cried my heavy heart out but alas! I had no tears in my eyes. Yet my heart was burning with anger, grief and frustration. A deep sense of hatred would surge in my heart for these butchers but would find no expression. I felt like being choked to death.I was waking throughout that night, thinking of the poor man’s end, his kids back home and the toughness displayed by the man even in the face of such brutality. I was thinking of what is going on in our beloved country, what new shape Jihad has been given, what sort of Muslims these so-called Taliban are, who is the true martyr: the FC man or the Talib and so on. I found no definite and conclusive answer to my questions. I tried to reflect on the entire history of the struggle of the Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) and could not recollect even one instance where the prophet of mercy or any of his companion ever allowed such brutal treatment of even non-Muslim prisoners, whether before or after the conquest of Mecca. Who is training, financing, brain-washing and arming these so-called Mujahedeen? On my mind was the verse of Holy Quran which says “And shall I tell you of the worst wasteful deeds: it is the actions of those (persons) who waste their efforts (and energies) in this world, yet believing (in vain) that they are doing the most pious things”. I wish I could engage them in an in-depth discussion on the legality and propriety of their acts in the light of Islam but I knew they were neither ready for such a debate nor capable of such intellectual discourse. Not long afterwards, the Muezzin called for the Morning Prayer and we got up, did ablution and offered prayers. As usual it was very cold and as such we re-entered our sleeping bags, trying unsuccessfully to sleep. Hardly a few minutes passed when tea arrived and we had our breakfast, with a dead man’s body on our side and blood stained sleeping bags of the deceased lying behind us. We would try not to divert our attention but the images of dead man’s torturous exit from life haunted us relentlessly. The warning conveyed to us by the Taliban before they killed the F.C man was still at the back of our mind. This was an unforgettable breakfast indeed. Our detention room was situated in the bottom of a sky-high mountain; hence sunlight would come quite late in the morning. As the day progressed, the Taliban came and directed us to put our head-covers on and move out of the room with them. They escorted us to a trench-type place on the nearby mountain, where my leg was tied with Mr. Siddiq Akbar’s leg with iron chain and then locked. Two armed Taliban guards Mr. Usman and Mr. Ahmed were deputed to guard us. We enjoyed the sunlight after a few days and breathed in the open air, listening to the free birds flying and chirping around. We could also hear the voices of school kids from the nearby school and the sounds of a rural village life were also quite audible. This situation reminded me of two things. First, an essay by Charles Lamb “Oxford in Vacation” regarding the feelings of miserable hostel students, fed up with their hostel depressing life, during their rare excursions to the rural lands, and envying the free birds and nearby cattle. Secondly it reminded of a saying of the Holy Prophet that five things should be considered “ghanimah” before five things: life before death, health before illness, youth before old age, prosperity before poverty and leisure before getting busy. I thought, one would like to add, “Freedom before captivity”. I was also speculating on how to avoid such a humiliating treatment at the hands of our captors. If ultimately the Taliban decided to kill us, we would make one passionate request: to just kill us away from each other so that none of us witness whatever manner the other gets killed. After all, if the sight of a stranger’s execution was so painful, how could we bear the shock and agony of seeing our fellow officer’s death in such a humiliating and gruesome manner? While I was lost in such thought-process, in the meantime, the Taliban had packed the man in a sack and taken him away to throw him on the roadside with a written warning to others who would dare spy on the Taliban. When the dead body was removed, we were taken back to our detention room where we went to sleep to make up for the loss of sleep at night.Life was different and difficult after the murder incident. Every day and every night the dead man’s misery before death and the grief that befell the bereaved family would come back to our memory and sadden us. Despite this haunting experience, we would try to divert our attention by discussing various topics, ranging from our experiences in university to political topics and history. We would also, at times, share jokes and laugh. Later we realized that if our captors heard us laugh so loud and so often, they may get the impression that we are happy and this may hamper our early release. Resultantly, we would avoid loud laughter, especially when our captors were near-by our detention room. I also used to do some simple exercises in the evening, especially after I developed minor gastric trouble, perhaps due to lack of balanced diet, no activity and relentless stress. Prayers and recitation from the Holy Quran were other useful activities. Most of the time, however, we would lie down inside our sleeping bags, more so because it was very cold inside the room, even during day time. I would try to stay positive and think of those who went through similar or worse situation and get inspiration. One such person who remained my inspiration was of course Nelson Mandela whose biography “Long walk to freedom” I had recently read. However, most of the time, we used to sleep. Slowly and gradually, it became my habit to sleep during the day and remain waking almost throughout the night. This problem continued for a few days even after my release. Sometimes the Taliban would allow us to stay in the sunlight for some time. But normally they kept us locked inside our room, particularly when “guests” would be coming. There was a room above our detention room: it was used by the owner of the house, who was an old man of simple and gentle disposition. I saw him twice and each time he requested the Taliban to finalise our cases quickly. It was his son, a young, frail and thin-bearded fellow, who would later escort us along with the Taliban up to a nearby filling station from where we were delivered to Mr. Afsar Khan and Haji Abdul Hameed, both Mehsood from North Waziristan. I personally saw that guy only twice during my 12 days captivity. One Talib, they called Muhammad, was truly gentle and very kind hearted, at least to us. Probably, this was their strategy to partly try and change our minds in their favour for future purposes and partly to keep a balance between harshness and leniency. He would try to make us feel comfortable, would sit with us and engage us in chit chat, and also on a few occasions got prepared some dishes of our choice. He was most apologetic for what we were going through but he had no authority to decide our fate. On a couple of occasions he gave us feedback and advice based on his first hand information regarding what the Taliban were planning or thinking about next course of action. I am personally sure that he would be a voice in our support in Talibans meetings about our case. I had nothing to thank him, except words of appreciation and prayers. Before departure for my home, I gifted my personal paijama to him. The other Talib dealt with us courteously was named Imran and was from Swat but his parents lived in Karachi. He was the one who informed me that Mr.Hakeemullah Mehsud, Mr. Baitullah Mehsud’s deputy, had asked their Amir, Mr. Hilal, to consider our case leniently. I was surprised as to who may have asked Hakeemullah but I had really no clue. It was after my release that I came to know who actually was behind this move. One day before my release I took a bath and the Taliban provided me clothes, which belonged to Mr. Imran. When the next day I was given my new clothes, brought from my home by my best friend Mr. Muhammad Sher and my brother Noor Elahi, I offered my earlier clothes to Mr. Imran in recognition of his support and cooperation on many occasions.The first time we were able to talk to the people back home was also after a couple of days after the murder of incident. We were asked by the Taliban to stress upon our relatives to arrange a hefty sum as demanded by the Taliban for our release. We were taken to a nearby mountain, about half an hour drive away from our lodge, for this purpose because there were no signals in the place where we were placed. There was a Khasadar Check Post on our way but the Khasadars did not bother to check the Taliban, although they could see us blind-folded inside the vehicle. When we reached the mountain top, it was Mr.Siddiq who first talked on phone to his relatives. He was informed by his nephew that his mother is in coma, news that shook Siddiq badly and he cried like a teenage boy after his dying mother. I tried to console him but all in vain. This was the first time I saw Mr. Siddiq losing his composure and given his profound emotional attachment to his mother, I think it was quite natural. While Siddiq continued sobbing, it was my turn to talk to my people. First I called up Mr. Sher. When Sher heard my voice for the first time after my abduction, his reaction was moving. Saying, ‘God!!!!’ he paused for a little while. I could feel the tempest of heart-felt emotions overpowering him but with his typical well power he regained himself and re-started, “are you all right Sir?” I wished I could tell him what we had gone through during the last few days and nights but this was a test of character and we were men. I told him that we doing rather well but that he should do everything he could, visit friends, call a few relatives and arrange the money demanded by the captors. During the course of my conversation with Sher, the Taliban asked me to tell Sher to arrange the specified amount. Information about the actual demanded amount was however not shared with us by the Taliban. Mr. Sher assured me of his best efforts but again started inquiring about my well being. I had to cut short our brief conversation as I had to talk to my wife as well.Next I rang up my wife but as usual she was away from her phone and as such my mother-in-law attended the phone call. Like any other woman, she was too nervous and too worried to carry on a normal telephonic conversation with the one whose future, and that of his kids, hang in the balance. She continued asking, “Hello! Where are you? Hello, How are you? Hello! Hello!”( Later after my release she told me, she did not know what she was saying then). Time was short as the sun was getting down and the Taliban were asking us to be quick lest they are fired upon from the “enemy” posts in the adjacent mountains. I asked her to give phone to my wife but instead she gave it to my sister in law. I thought I should instruct her instead of my wife, if the latter was not readily available but my agile sister in law took the mobile phone to my wife and I told her how I was and exchanged words of courage. Then she asked me to talk to my son Omar and daughter Aisha also. I advised both the kids on turn to be nice to their mother, to do their home work regularly and not to fight with each other. Aisha asked me, “Papa, when will you come? Please come back quickly.” I promised her to be back soon.For the next two days, we hoped that our friends and relatives must have made every effort and arranged the amount. However, it was not yet clear as to how much amount is actually demanded by the Taliban. On my passionate request, Mr. Haider, a senior Talib, had assured me that the amount would be reasonable. I also requested Mr. Imran and Mr. Muhammad to convince Mr.Hilal for leniency. They assured us of their support. One day, when I and my friend Mr.Siddiq were chatting in a rather light mood, in came to our room the local Aurakzai Talib, Mr. Hanif with another Talib and sat before us in a visibly hostile posture. With a touch of merciless butcher on his darkish face, mostly covered in bushy and dusty beard, he started, “Amir Sahib is losing his patience for you two: your relatives are not serious in your release as they have not arranged the amount yet, and instead they are trying to pressurise Amir Sahib through various sources. Now you have two days more in which either your people send us the ransom amount or we resort to what you have already seen”. This message from the Amir was really very disturbing for both of us. Without giving in to vile speculations and self-pity, I responded by asking him to take us to the mountain top for giving a final wake up call to our people before it is too late. They agreed but insisted that only one of us will go with them for the telephone call. We decided that I should go up there and talk to the contact persons for immediate action for our release. Soon we were on our way towards the mountain top and Mr. Hanif was again driving like a crazy marauder on the run. Again we crossed the Khasadar check post, but no Khasadar dared ask why there was a masked man inside the vehicle. On the mountain top I called up Mr. Sher again and asked him to listen carefully, “If you did not arrange this amount in next two days, you will get our dead bodies”. Sher assured me that he was doing his utmost and that he will be leaving for Hangu the next morning with the money and that we will be released soon. I also beseeched him to stop those people who were trying to influence the Taliban otherwise and he informed that he has already been requesting everybody to stop doing this. (continues....)THE D-DAY25th November, 2008 was a day which began as usual like any other day but ended in most dramatic manner for me, my relatives, friends and well wishers. Earlier in the day at office I was pleased to know that the much-needed internet connectivity has been established at Torkham, thanks to the efforts of a few individuals. It was, however, learnt that the clearing agents and their local touts were in no mood to utilise the newly established internet service facility for e-filing. I immediately summoned their president Mr. Nasir Shinwari to my office and briefed him about the importance and benefit s of e-filing. Mr.Nasir listened to my ‘lecture’ silently and then responded by saying that although he will consult other agents but there is less likelihood that agents may switch over to e-filing. However the reasons he cited were totally untenable and baseless. Later in the day, a delegation of Afghan Customs officers visited my office and we exchanged views on various issues facing customs staff and the traders on both sides of the border. After the lunch, Afghan Customs officers were seen off at PAK-Afghan border at around 2.30 PM to 2.40 PM. Soon after seeing off the Afghan Customs officers I returned to my office and tried to immediately leave for Peshawar. However, I stayed for a few minutes more to dispose off pending works of urgent nature. At about 3 pm I asked my sepoy to get the car ready at the back of my office to keep our departure invisible. Customs Inspector Mr. Siddiq Akbar and Mr.Kamran of M/S PRAL were also ready and we proceeded to the car. When I came out of my office I found that Mr. Irshad was waiting for me and he not only shook hands with me but also accompanied me up to my car. I asked him to complete a small task I had assigned to him for installing Steno’s telephone at my office. Other than Irshad I don’t know whether any other person witnessed my departure. The Moment In order to avoid being seen at the time of my departure from office, I used the back door of my office and started for Peshawar in a private Toyota Car, bypassing Landi Kotal Bazar. Our journey back home was pretty comfortable as we gossiped and as usual looking at the surrounding barren mountains, trying to reflect on the historical background of the valley. On our way one of our friends Mr.Hidayat, Customs Inspector, called on my mobile phone and requested to ask A.C Kohat for the posting of an Inspector. I did not like the idea but requested A.C Kohat to consider the request and he promised. After a while I called up Mr.Hidayat to inform him accordingly. At this point we had just crossed the house of former Senator Haji Gul Sher Afridi. As our car crossed the ‘’khwar” and reached the curved part of the road, I was still talking to Mr.Hidayat on phone. Suddenly, I saw that a state car, called “ghwagai” in local parlance, blocked the road in front of our speeding car. Within no time armed terrorists surrounded our car. They were fully armed with AK-47, hand grenades, suicide jackets and RPGs. With ferocious speed they coerced us to follow what they say. The driver tried to persuade them into sparing him disclosing his identity as a local person known to notable malik in Jamrud but the terrorists subdued him with fists and buts of AK-47. For a moment, I was badly shaken. The image of one terrorist, with marks of vitiligo “bragay” on his face- all set to shoot and kill, shouting at us to immediately sit in their vehicle or else will be shot dead- seized and blocked my mind. At this terrible moment, I forgot even to inform Mr.Hidayat about our kidnapping. That was the only time I was not totally in normal composure and this happened only for a minute or two. Very soon, however, I started realizing the grim reality of my abduction. I asked both my colleagues and captors to remain calm and not to panic. I had to say this partly because this was self-consoling but also because two of my colleagues were crying and needed some words of hope. More importantly, it was meant to keep the terrorist driver drive a little carefully on the bumpy road meandering through the rugged and steep mountain. As we were climbing up that inhospitable and sky-high mountain, I could see the plain below and the main road we had left, getting farther and farther as did our hope of returning home. Although I was quite composed by then, soon the thought of my near and dear ones came to my mind with a sense of pain and despair. I was particularly worried about my mother and my little daughter, Sara, then hardly seven months old, although I was not oblivious to the shock that other family members and friends alike were to get. In the heat of movement, the terrorists put me in their state car while all my three colleagues Mr.Siddiq Akbar, Mr.Kamran and Mr. Bhutto were driven in our own corolla car. The man whose terrifying face had struck my vision was with us in the state car. He immediately asked me if I was an NGO worker spreading bad ideas in girls schools. To this I responded in the negative and gave him my ID Card to confirm that I was from Customs Department. He then said that they have been informed by some quarters that we were NGO officials and that we will be freed after we are heard by Taliban’s Amir. He also assured me that in case we were not from NGO, they will reveal to us the person who gave wrong information to them about us and caused us hardships. This assurance, although subsequently proved false, was of great relief for the time being. Our kidnappers disclosed their real intentions on the third day of the incident. The abductors describedWhile we were being driven away by the Taliban in a display of reckless driving, I did believe what that man with lukoderma told us that we will be with them only for a night and then we will be set free after confirming that we do not belong to any NGO. During discussion on the way, he told me that he was once a student of B.A at Quide Azam University but after the tragedy of Lal Masjid, he bid farewell to studies and joined the Taliban to avenge the deaths of those hundreds of innocent students, both male and female. He was from Shangla District of NWFP. The state car was driven by a young man, named Hanif, from Aurakzai Agency. He had a repulsive appearance, with dusty hair, untrimmed bushy beard, dark black eyes, dirty clothes and rough manners. He was driving like he wanted to commit suicide: remaining safe in such driving was indeed another miracle as was our ultimate release after twelve arduous days. This man from Aurakzai Agency was fond of listening to the typical Taliban audio cassettes containing poems about the Taliban and their brand of ‘Jihad’. These poems were so repelling to hearing and had a very damaging impact on mind and heart of the captured. The third person sitting in our state car was a young Talib, who was continuously reciting some prayers and verses from the Holy Quran. He was rather quiet and spoke very little. Later this fellow turned out to be a very well meaning, shy and relatively kind person. He would sit with us and discuss things, trying to provide us whatever comfort he could, allowing us to enjoy some sunlight, arrange for warm water, tissue paper, mineral water and even some nice dishes at times. His name was Muhammad and his accent suggested that he was from Peshawar District as he also admitted but never showed his full address like his fellow Talibans. Three other Taliban who were sitting with my friends in our own corolla car were named Mr.Hilal (whom we later found to be the leader of the group), Mr. Haider and Mr. Imran, the last being the youngest (21) and the first being the eldest (32). Of these Imran was from Swat District but, according to him, his family was living in Karachi. At the age of 21 he was already married and had kids. He had a twin brother too and had worked in Karachi with his father as cart pusher (Rerhi Ban). By the way, all the Taliban were from very poor families. Some of these Taliban were totally illiterate while some had been to schools or madressa for some time: no one had completed his studies though. Subsequently, a few more Taliban also interacted with us. Of these notable names are of Mr. Usman, a young and charming boy in his twenties from Peshawar, Mr. Haris from Swabi and Mr. Ahmed from Miranshah North Waziristan Agency. The only suicide bomber who stayed in the same room with me for one night was from Waziristan Agency and was a young boy in his mid teens, totally illiterate and devoid of manners. There was one very important local Talib of Aurakzai Agency, whom I found not only comparatively kind-hearted but also more informed and interested in intellectual debates, but whose name I could not ascertain. He was later to play important role in negotiating my release just two days before Eid. To shoot or not to shootWithin first ten minutes of the kidnapping, I was engaged in a very serious and consequential thought process. The Taliban were not wise enough or alert enough to carry out our physical search: they only took AK-47 from our driver Mr. Bhutto but I was also carrying a Taurus pistol, fully loaded but locked, at that time. What I could do was to unlock the pistol in my side pocket and get rid of the three terrorists in my car in a few seconds. This was not very difficult. The big issue, however, was to make sure that my other friends remain safe once their car approaches our car: my friends had no arms with them and their captors were fully armed with deadly automatic weapons. This was indeed a very a very tense moment and I thought and thought, over and over again, even as I was off and on asked various questions by my captors. In the end I opted not to go ahead with any misadventure and voluntarily gave my pistol to the Taliban who received it with a sudden realization of their blunder but simultaneously appreciating my move, which I actually expected. In fact, I also wanted to gain as much good well and trust as possible for our benefit for days ahead. Again at a certain place, when our abductors had to stop on the man road as our Toyota car was running out of fuel, my driver Mr. Bhutto looked at me and through the gestures of his eyes sought my permission to attack the kidnappers but given our limitations and strong chances of collateral damage, I declined the idea and he complied. Later he told me in our detention room that he had seen some persons, loyal to an anti-Taliban group headed by one Mangal Bagh Afridi, who may have helped if we had attacked the kidnappers. In my view this expectation was rather unrealistic and still dangerous as the Taliban had suicide jackets with them, which would have exploded in the event of a shootout and that would have been disastrous for all of us.My longest stressful journey In our journey from the place of abduction to the place where we were kept, the Taliban had almost completed their investigation regarding our identity, background, income and other relevant information. This was indeed the most stressful journey I ever had. I was not fully able to get rid of thinking about those I had left behind: will my mother survive if she learns about my kidnapping? How will my father bear this grief? How will my wife and kids reconcile to the reality of spending days and nights without me in that house? Will I ever see my little Sara again in life? How will my other relatives and friends respond to the situation? What will be the demoralizing influence on my staff at Torkham and fellow officers elsewhere? Will we be really left alone by the Amir Sahib or will we also be slaughtered in typical Taliban style? Are these genuine Taliban or professional kidnappers? What are the motives of our abductors? Questions like these and many more distressing questions kept flocking my mind throughout this journey. One very important thought that continued to reverberate in my mind was how will my old friend Muhammad Sher take the news of my abduction? We had lost a very dear friend, Matiullah Burki, in prime youth back in 2004 during the first round of operation launched by Pakistani security forces in South Waziristan and his memory was still fresh. Was history repeating itself? Is Sher going to lose another friend? Is another family going to be devastated? I wished it were a dream, not a harsh reality from which I had no immediate safe escape. By dusk we reached -----------where all sorts of smuggled goods were being brought from Afghanistan on mules, camels and donkeys for onwards transportation to Peshawar. Our corolla car had very little petrol and CNG left in it while there was still a long way to go as we later found. The Taliban parked the state car on road side in an unpopulated area and the other car was taken to the nearby bazaar for refuelling. It was here that I talked to my fellow abductees for some time and found that they were in very bad shape. The driver Mr. Bhutto was crying when he saw his son’s picture on his mobile being used by one Talib. Mr. Siddiq Akbar, Inspector, was apparently in better shape but quite uncomfortable more so due the shrill and heart-rending poems being played in the car as he later confided to me. I tried in my own little way to console them and assure them that our captors were ‘good’ people and they have picked up due to misunderstanding and will release all of us safely very soon. I must say that while Siddiq was doing rather well, the other two guys were totally overwhelmed by the incident. So long as they remained with us in captivity, I and Mr. Siddiq used to solace them and keep their mood and morale up, with little success of course. Indeed their release after four days was a great relief, not only to them and their relatives but also to me and Siddiq Akbar. Our kidnapers told us that there are a few check posts where Arab and Uzbek Mujahedeen will be inquiring about us and that we must tell them that we were Taliban’s guests. This, they said, would save us from slaughter from the hands of these Arab and Uzbek Mujahedeen who have zero tolerance for any government servant. Later on, we realized that there were no such Mujahedeen on our way: the Taliban had actually done this in order to avoid any problem in case the Khasadars asked at any Check Point. There were about three Khasadar check posts on the way at various points but at no check point any official of the political administration dared ask our abductors regarding us, although I kept on hoping against hope, in vain though, that someone may attend to the call of duty. At one check post in Aurakzai Agency, we heard the Taliban discuss the plan as they apprehended interrogation from the Khasadars and they said in case the Khasadars resisted, they will launch a do-or-die attack. Our faces were covered in black Taliban caps and we could not see anything outside but I really had my concerns in case there is a shootout, especially when it was extremely dark and chilly outside. However, it seemed the Taliban prevailed and the Khasadars cleared the road for Taliban vehicles to go ahead. Finally after travelling for about ten hours, we reached our destination in Aurakzai Agency at about midnight. The weather was chilly and we were hungry also. However, that night we had to go to sleep without having taken even a morsel. We were taken out of the vehicles and taken to a large room of a mud house. Our faces were covered in the typical Taliban black caps. The room had sufficient sleeping bags and quilts for all of us and we were soon lying on ground in our sleeping bags. During the entire journey we asked our abductors to allow us to pray but they paid no heed. Later in our discussions we learnt that according to them when “Jihad’’ becomes “Farze Ain”, all other “Faraiz” become “Saqit”, hence their paying less attention to offering prayers. Most of the Taliban were also oblivious of cleanliness and took bath once a week at the most. Some of them used snuff also.Days of captivityAmong my fellow abductees, I stayed in captivity for the longest time. The driver Mr. Bhutto was released almost within forty eight hours of our abduction. His release was the combined result of my persuading the Taliban as well as passionate requests of his family members, particularly his uncle whom the Taliban had called up. The Taliban also had confirmed that the car in possession of Mr. Bhutto was actually not official but Bhutto’s personal. The Taliban also realised that the driver was a poor man, hence finally they released him. Bhutto’s release helped us in conveying our message to family and friends regarding our safety, location and future course of action.With the release of Mr. Bhutto I got a little relaxed: firstly because through him the Taliban conveyed to us that we have been abducted for getting their two fellow Talibans currently in ISI custody; secondly, because he was the source through which our family and friends came to know about our condition. However, his departure was misinterpreted by Mr.Kamran as he developed suspicions that the Taliban will ‘slaughter’ us sooner than not. Once I asked him to remember Allah and recite the Holy Quran. However, while reading the Holy Quran he suddenly started crying and saying “O Allah, Help us: they are going to slaughter us”. This really made me and my friend Mr. Siddiq upset and we rebuked Mr.Kamran for showing such a weak character. In the meantime, the Taliban continued inquiring about the social status of Mr.Kamran and as a result of such inquiry the Taliban finally released him also unconditionally. We advised Mr.Kamran not to indulge in unnecessary exchange of information with many people and to just inform our family that we were doing well. Living among the TalibanLiving among the Taliban was indeed a terrible and un-nerving experience. They provided us the same food which they ate. Some of them also stayed at night with us in the same room, using the similar quilts and sleeping bags. Usually they would first serve us the food and then would eat themselves. Their most frequent dish was “saag” and wheat bread cooked on clay “tawwa”, hence the bread was partly burnt black. The room in which we were lodged was full of heavy arms, explosives, RPGs and anti-tank mines. It was always locked from outside, except when we would be going out to the nearby lavatory. On our request, they provided us the Holy Quran and later a few books, all on Jihad. These books were “Kitabul Jihad” by Abdullah Ibne Mubarak, “Maidan Pukaarte Hain” by Abdullah Azzam (late), “Adaabe Zindagi” by Yousaf Islahi and another book on Jihad by Abdullah Azzam (late). We did not take bath for eight consecutive days although I hardly remember any day when I have not taken a bath early in the morning during last twenty years or so. When I realized that the stay would prolong, then finally I requested them for warm water and wash room which were arranged and I took bath but wore the same old clothes. Luckily, however, since I was wearing brown clothes, they always looked fresh. On the other hand, Mr.Siddiq Akbar was wearing white cotton clothes and since there was a lot of dust in the room, his clothes literally turned grey, if not black, after a few days. But while his clothes were turning grey, so did our faces and beard.The latrine we were normally using was a place one never wanted to visit again, if one could, but there was no other choice available to us. I am yet to see a lavatory in worse condition than that: there was no proper drainage, no fresh water supply, no door and one could not properly breathe due to abhorable smell. The senior Taliban used two separate rooms for living and storage of heavy arms and ammunition. There was one wash room available near those rooms. I used that wash room twice, each time I was taken there and brought back blindfolded. However, even blindfolded I could still peep through and see that the room was full of heavy arms and ammunition, including heavy machine gun, anti-aircraft guns and mortar guns.We had developed the practice of praying collectively in our detention room. The Taliban never prayed together with us, nor did they ate their meals with us, until last two three days when I was alone as all my friends had been released one by one. One ‘fine’ morning, when we got up for prayer, Mr.Kamran told his captors that he wanted to take a bath “ghusl” before he could pray. This was indeed quite funny and Mr. Siddiq Akbar could not resist cutting joke against poor Kamran, who responded by saying “I wonder how come Satan (Shaitan) made his way to this place of terror where no one would dare come?” Anyway, Kamran managed to join us on prayer. A murder in cold bloodIt was perhaps on the sixth night of our stay with the Taliban when at around 10 pm a young but rather frail and bony junior ranking officer of FIU of FC was suddenly bundled into our room. We were already in our sleeping bags and were about to go to sleep when the Taliban barged into our room with the captive in chains. They had already given him sound beating in their main markaz. The man introduced himself as a Lance Naik in F.C and was in service for about fifteen years. He hailed from Bara Khyber Agency and was recently posted to the area where it was relatively difficult to find useful informants due to the strong Taliban presence there. However, the unfortunate fellow fell prey to the Taliban agents instead of finding his own agents. The Taliban agents trapped him and soon he was in their captivity. Soon after his arrival in the room, Mr. Haider, a Talib, came in and warned us that the Amir Sahib was very angry at us because some elements were trying to influence him regarding our release. Threatening us of a similar treatment soon, he started giving lashes to the poor F.C man to coerce him into confessional statement. He was given some food but no water to drink despite his repeated requests. The Taliban gathered in the room and asked him to give full account of his anti-Taliban activities during last several years. Despite the physical torture he had received at their hands, he told his captors that he has nothing to tell them unless they wanted to hear lies. However, they were not satisfied and started kicking, slapping, punching and beating him with lashes made of PVC wire as well as wooden sticks. There was thick dust in room due to the worst manhandling I have ever seen with my eyes. The man was unbelievably tough and did not either cry or shed any tear. He was however very thirsty and repeatedly implored his executors to give him water but they would inflict lashes each time he wanted water. Finally, they tied his two legs together, hanged him upside down from the iron beam and started beating him with full force. We could clearly see blood oozing out and trickling out of his wounds, spreading over the whole body, particularly his back, legs and arms. One Talib confided to me that the man had been given bath in cold water after the first round of torture in another concentration camp “markaz”. After severe physical torture through beating, they untied the man and started sprinkling salt on his bleeding wounds. Amazingly, the man still showed no signs of pain nor moaned. At this point however he started giving an account of his activities undertaken by him over the years against the Taliban in Bajaur, Mohmand, Warsak and Aurakzai Agency. He also disclosed names of a few who were working in Aurakzai Agency against the Taliban. Whatever he was saying now was being recorded by a Talib named Haider. Another Talib brought slat and put it on the bleeding wounds. It was an unbearable situation, more so because we felt so helpless to do anything about it. Each time he implored the Amir for some water, he would get only more lashes. With no drop of saliva in his mouth and throat, the man could hardly speak: he seemed like a dying thirsty bird (as a young village boy, I had seen in scorching summer thirsty birds, with their beaks gaped wide badly in need of water). All this torture and recording of statement took place under the presence and command of Mr. Hilal, the Amir of our kidnappers. The man then requested for allowing him to attend latrine but he was not allowed. When the Taliban felt that it was getting late at night and sufficient information has been divulged by the man, they decided to leave further proceedings to the next day and tying his hands behind, left the man on ground to his fate. At this point the Amir expressed his intention to hang the poor man in upside down position outside the room in the chilly open air but I beseeched his conscience and pleaded to leave the man inside in view of the severe cold outside. Unbelievably enough, the Amir not only agreed to my request, he also allowed that hands of the man to be untied.After a while when the light was switched off and we entered into our sleeping bags, we realized how much of dust was lying on our quilts and sleeping bags. It was not until next three days or so when finally I managed to wash the dust from my head and face. How can one sleep after witnessing such inhuman brutality in the name of Islam, Jihad and revenge? I tried and tried but sleep was not possible that night. No sooner did we cover our faces in the sleeping bags then the poor Lance Naik started moaning in pain now. Intermittently he would call “Amir Sahib, Amir Sahib” to seek permission of his captors for going to latrine for urination but was not replied by Mr. Haider who was In Charge of the room. At one point Mr. Haider warned him to keep quite and not to moan but when the man did not stop moaning. At this Mr. Haider got up and gave him a few more lashes after which he remained quiet for a while. Shortly afterwards, however, he started moaning again. At around 4 am or so, the man vomited blood and after a few minutes requested that his end was near so he may please be set in straight position, facing qibla. A junior Talib, Mr Imran from Swat, went up to him and did accordingly. The last words I remember he uttered were “Amir Saib,.....Amir,.......Am......” and then there was complete silence. The man was finally free from more torture of the Taliban. If I could cry, I would have cried to the Heaven and cried my heavy heart out but alas! I had no tears in my eyes. Yet my heart was burning with anger, grief and frustration. A deep sense of hatred would surge in my heart for these butchers but would find no expression. I felt like being choked to death.I was waking throughout that night, thinking of the poor man’s end, his kids back home and the toughness displayed by the man even in the face of such brutality. I was thinking of what is going on in our beloved country, what new shape Jihad has been given, what sort of Muslims these so-called Taliban are, who is the true martyr: the FC man or the Talib and so on. I found no definite and conclusive answer to my questions. I tried to reflect on the entire history of the struggle of the Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) and could not recollect even one instance where the prophet of mercy or any of his companion ever allowed such brutal treatment of even non-Muslim prisoners, whether before or after the conquest of Mecca. Who is training, financing, brain-washing and arming these so-called Mujahedeen? On my mind was the verse of Holy Quran which says “And shall I tell you of the worst wasteful deeds: it is the actions of those (persons) who waste their efforts (and energies) in this world, yet believing (in vain) that they are doing the most pious things”. I wish I could engage them in an in-depth discussion on the legality and propriety of their acts in the light of Islam but I knew they were neither ready for such a debate nor capable of such intellectual discourse. Not long afterwards, the Muezzin called for the Morning Prayer and we got up, did ablution and offered prayers. As usual it was very cold and as such we re-entered our sleeping bags, trying unsuccessfully to sleep. Hardly a few minutes passed when tea arrived and we had our breakfast, with a dead man’s body on our side and blood stained sleeping bags of the deceased lying behind us. We would try not to divert our attention but the images of dead man’s torturous exit from life haunted us relentlessly. The warning conveyed to us by the Taliban before they killed the F.C man was still at the back of our mind. This was an unforgettable breakfast indeed. Our detention room was situated in the bottom of a sky-high mountain; hence sunlight would come quite late in the morning. As the day progressed, the Taliban came and directed us to put our head-covers on and move out of the room with them. They escorted us to a trench-type place on the nearby mountain, where my leg was tied with Mr. Siddiq Akbar’s leg with iron chain and then locked. Two armed Taliban guards Mr. Usman and Mr. Ahmed were deputed to guard us. We enjoyed the sunlight after a few days and breathed in the open air, listening to the free birds flying and chirping around. We could also hear the voices of school kids from the nearby school and the sounds of a rural village life were also quite audible. This situation reminded me of two things. First, an essay by Charles Lamb “Oxford in Vacation” regarding the feelings of miserable hostel students, fed up with their hostel depressing life, during their rare excursions to the rural lands, and envying the free birds and nearby cattle. Secondly it reminded of a saying of the Holy Prophet that five things should be considered “ghanimah” before five things: life before death, health before illness, youth before old age, prosperity before poverty and leisure before getting busy. I thought, one would like to add, “Freedom before captivity”. I was also speculating on how to avoid such a humiliating treatment at the hands of our captors. If ultimately the Taliban decided to kill us, we would make one passionate request: to just kill us away from each other so that none of us witness whatever manner the other gets killed. After all, if the sight of a stranger’s execution was so painful, how could we bear the shock and agony of seeing our fellow officer’s death in such a humiliating and gruesome manner? While I was lost in such thought-process, in the meantime, the Taliban had packed the man in a sack and taken him away to throw him on the roadside with a written warning to others who would dare spy on the Taliban. When the dead body was removed, we were taken back to our detention room where we went to sleep to make up for the loss of sleep at night.Life was different and difficult after the murder incident. Every day and every night the dead man’s misery before death and the grief that befell the bereaved family would come back to our memory and sadden us. Despite this haunting experience, we would try to divert our attention by discussing various topics, ranging from our experiences in university to political topics and history. We would also, at times, share jokes and laugh. Later we realized that if our captors heard us laugh so loud and so often, they may get the impression that we are happy and this may hamper our early release. Resultantly, we would avoid loud laughter, especially when our captors were near-by our detention room. I also used to do some simple exercises in the evening, especially after I developed minor gastric trouble, perhaps due to lack of balanced diet, no activity and relentless stress. Prayers and recitation from the Holy Quran were other useful activities. Most of the time, however, we would lie down inside our sleeping bags, more so because it was very cold inside the room, even during day time. I would try to stay positive and think of those who went through similar or worse situation and get inspiration. One such person who remained my inspiration was of course Nelson Mandela whose biography “Long walk to freedom” I had recently read. However, most of the time, we used to sleep. Slowly and gradually, it became my habit to sleep during the day and remain waking almost throughout the night. This problem continued for a few days even after my release. Sometimes the Taliban would allow us to stay in the sunlight for some time. But normally they kept us locked inside our room, particularly when “guests” would be coming. There was a room above our detention room: it was used by the owner of the house, who was an old man of simple and gentle disposition. I saw him twice and each time he requested the Taliban to finalise our cases quickly. It was his son, a young, frail and thin-bearded fellow, who would later escort us along with the Taliban up to a nearby filling station from where we were delivered to Mr. Afsar Khan and Haji Abdul Hameed, both Mehsood from North Waziristan. I personally saw that guy only twice during my 12 days captivity. One Talib, they called Muhammad, was truly gentle and very kind hearted, at least to us. Probably, this was their strategy to partly try and change our minds in their favour for future purposes and partly to keep a balance between harshness and leniency. He would try to make us feel comfortable, would sit with us and engage us in chit chat, and also on a few occasions got prepared some dishes of our choice. He was most apologetic for what we were going through but he had no authority to decide our fate. On a couple of occasions he gave us feedback and advice based on his first hand information regarding what the Taliban were planning or thinking about next course of action. I am personally sure that he would be a voice in our support in Talibans meetings about our case. I had nothing to thank him, except words of appreciation and prayers. Before departure for my home, I gifted my personal paijama to him. The other Talib dealt with us courteously was named Imran and was from Swat but his parents lived in Karachi. He was the one who informed me that Mr.Hakeemullah Mehsud, Mr. Baitullah Mehsud’s deputy, had asked their Amir, Mr. Hilal, to consider our case leniently. I was surprised as to who may have asked Hakeemullah but I had really no clue. It was after my release that I came to know who actually was behind this move. One day before my release I took a bath and the Taliban provided me clothes, which belonged to Mr. Imran. When the next day I was given my new clothes, brought from my home by my best friend Mr. Muhammad Sher and my brother Noor Elahi, I offered my earlier clothes to Mr. Imran in recognition of his support and cooperation on many occasions.The first time we were able to talk to the people back home was also after a couple of days after the murder of incident. We were asked by the Taliban to stress upon our relatives to arrange a hefty sum as demanded by the Taliban for our release. We were taken to a nearby mountain, about half an hour drive away from our lodge, for this purpose because there were no signals in the place where we were placed. There was a Khasadar Check Post on our way but the Khasadars did not bother to check the Taliban, although they could see us blind-folded inside the vehicle. When we reached the mountain top, it was Mr.Siddiq who first talked on phone to his relatives. He was informed by his nephew that his mother is in coma, news that shook Siddiq badly and he cried like a teenage boy after his dying mother. I tried to console him but all in vain. This was the first time I saw Mr. Siddiq losing his composure and given his profound emotional attachment to his mother, I think it was quite natural. While Siddiq continued sobbing, it was my turn to talk to my people. First I called up Mr. Sher. When Sher heard my voice for the first time after my abduction, his reaction was moving. Saying, ‘God!!!!’ he paused for a little while. I could feel the tempest of heart-felt emotions overpowering him but with his typical well power he regained himself and re-started, “are you all right Sir?” I wished I could tell him what we had gone through during the last few days and nights but this was a test of character and we were men. I told him that we doing rather well but that he should do everything he could, visit friends, call a few relatives and arrange the money demanded by the captors. During the course of my conversation with Sher, the Taliban asked me to tell Sher to arrange the specified amount. Information about the actual demanded amount was however not shared with us by the Taliban. Mr. Sher assured me of his best efforts but again started inquiring about my well being. I had to cut short our brief conversation as I had to talk to my wife as well.Next I rang up my wife but as usual she was away from her phone and as such my mother-in-law attended the phone call. Like any other woman, she was too nervous and too worried to carry on a normal telephonic conversation with the one whose future, and that of his kids, hang in the balance. She continued asking, “Hello! Where are you? Hello, How are you? Hello! Hello!”( Later after my release she told me, she did not know what she was saying then). Time was short as the sun was getting down and the Taliban were asking us to be quick lest they are fired upon from the “enemy” posts in the adjacent mountains. I asked her to give phone to my wife but instead she gave it to my sister in law. I thought I should instruct her instead of my wife, if the latter was not readily available but my agile sister in law took the mobile phone to my wife and I told her how I was and exchanged words of courage. Then she asked me to talk to my son Omar and daughter Aisha also. I advised both the kids on turn to be nice to their mother, to do their home work regularly and not to fight with each other. Aisha asked me, “Papa, when will you come? Please come back quickly.” I promised her to be back soon.For the next two days, we hoped that our friends and relatives must have made every effort and arranged the amount. However, it was not yet clear as to how much amount is actually demanded by the Taliban. On my passionate request, Mr. Haider, a senior Talib, had assured me that the amount would be reasonable. I also requested Mr. Imran and Mr. Muhammad to convince Mr.Hilal for leniency. They assured us of their support. One day, when I and my friend Mr.Siddiq were chatting in a rather light mood, in came to our room the local Aurakzai Talib, Mr. Hanif with another Talib and sat before us in a visibly hostile posture. With a touch of merciless butcher on his darkish face, mostly covered in bushy and dusty beard, he started, “Amir Sahib is losing his patience for you two: your relatives are not serious in your release as they have not arranged the amount yet, and instead they are trying to pressurise Amir Sahib through various sources. Now you have two days more in which either your people send us the ransom amount or we resort to what you have already seen”. This message from the Amir was really very disturbing for both of us. Without giving in to vile speculations and self-pity, I responded by asking him to take us to the mountain top for giving a final wake up call to our people before it is too late. They agreed but insisted that only one of us will go with them for the telephone call. We decided that I should go up there and talk to the contact persons for immediate action for our release. Soon we were on our way towards the mountain top and Mr. Hanif was again driving like a crazy marauder on the run. Again we crossed the Khasadar check post, but no Khasadar dared ask why there was a masked man inside the vehicle. On the mountain top I called up Mr. Sher again and asked him to listen carefully, “If you did not arrange this amount in next two days, you will get our dead bodies”. Sher assured me that he was doing his utmost and that he will be leaving for Hangu the next morning with the money and that we will be released soon. I also beseeched him to stop those people who were trying to influence the Taliban otherwise and he informed that he has already been requesting everybody to stop doing this. (continues....)
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