In Afghanistan

Afghanistan

“Father, you look relieved.” Zaheer sat with a cup of tea in his hands opposite to his father. Zaheer was Wazir Khan’s only son. Twenty five years old, strong and handsome. He had the long nose of his father and gait of an aristocrat. True to his upbringing – he was humble and intelligent. He had just post graduated in political science from the Bamiyan University.

Wazir Khan smiled, “Yes, son. I am. When you are on the chair, you always have a responsibility on your shoulders. You have to act for the chair. Sometimes that is in conflict with your true self.”

“True, father. But I always thought that you acted like yourself.” Zaheer said.

Wazir straightened his back and then relaxed it again on the chair, leaning back as he rested his hands on the armrest. He was in some deep thought.

Zaheer tried to change the subject. “So father, what are you planning to do now?”

“Let me give you the answer to your first question first. I tried to act the best I could in the situation, but still I cold not control many things.” Wazir Khan said.

“What things father?”

“Hakim Baksh.”

“What about him father?”

“You would be shocked to know that your father owns a secret agency.”

“What?” Zaheer was in a state of shock. The tea almost spilled off his hands. “Why?”

“The Indian agencies told me that there might be a constant threat on Bamiyan and Afghanistan – especially from the western quarters. I found that the Indian agencies were very much true.”

“How?”

“The western agencies were spying Hakim Baksh.”

“Why?”

“The wing was started by Nilofar Khanam.”

“Father, you are confusing me. The foreign secretary in your government is being spied, and his daughter is the one who is spying on him.”

“I’ll tell you about that later, but another thing I found was even more suspicious.”

“What was it father?”

“Nilofer has contacts with the KGB. She is continuously in touch with them.”

“Hell! How do you know this?” Zaheer was hysterical by now.

“R&AW”

“Can they be trusted?”

Wazir nodded his head. “That’s why I built a small spy agency of my own. It was a difficult, and task it took years. All of them know that I have some spies, but they still don’t know who they are?”

“But how did you go upon building the thing?” Zaheer asked, seemingly astonished.

“Oghab2”

“Iran helped you?”

“Yes, and the love of tradition in Bamiyan helped me.”

“How?”

“The pomp loving assembly loves its people to put up requests for personal attention to their grievances to the convener. These, they have to give in writing on a piece of paper which is available free of cost at the assembly itself and then drop it in an old style request box to be taken out by the convener’s personal reader and read aloud to him weekly.” Wazir Khan explained.

“I know that father. It seems a stupid tradition, but the things get done surprisingly.” Zaheer said.

Wazir smiled. “Yes, they do; but it forms a foolproof way for passage of information directly to the convener.”

“Oh!” Zaheer gave a startled look.

“Everyone has a secret.” Wazir continued. “I found that Rahim Khan, the reader had an extramarital affair. If it was made public, his family and his social life would have been destroyed. He was blackmailed into submission. His affair was used as a messenger to the spies. No one knew what is happening.”

“That’s excellent.” Zaheer smiled. “But I don’t completely approve of it being morally correct.”

“That’s another thing, entirely. But, it’s a wrong for the right end.” Wazir said.

“As for your second question on what I have planned. The family is going to the Hajj next month.”