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Authors: Khalid Muhammad
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were posted. His inner circle was tiny.
Since he joined the Academy, Kamal had worked hard not to become overly friendly with his fellow candidates. He was naturally reserved and reticent, but he was also concerned that anyone could pass incorrect or compromising information about him to the Commandant. Instructors were kept at arm ’s length, keeping the relationship contained to the course and the material covered, with the exception of old colleagues like Iftikhar. Now that his time in the Jungle was over, no one knew more about Kamal than he wanted them to know and that was limited to superficial information that was already in his military files.
Iftikhar let Kamal change the subject. He had news for him, and had wanted to be the one who told him. “Kami, you should have a bit more confidence in your abilities,” he said, holding out a crisp, ivory envelope with an insignia in the top corner. Printed in bold in the center was Captain Kamal Khan.
Kamal hesitated for a moment before he reached for the envelope, trying to read the Major’s somber expression. Good news? Bad news? Damn the man. He deserves to be an instructor here; I can’t tell a bloody thing. He held the slim envelope in his hand, trying to guess the result by its weight. “Do you know where I’ve been posted?”
The Major rolled his eyes. “Just open the damn envelope.”
Kamal pulled out his pocketknife and slit the top open at the seam. Minutes seemed like hours as he took in the information printed on the heavy bond ivory letter inside. Was this a practical joke? Good one, Iffi. But as Kamal reread the letter a second time, it began to sink in that this was no joke.
“Due to your extensive experience and proven abilities in the field, the ISI is proud to post Captain Kamal Khan to the ISI divisional office in Peshawar, Pakistan for the period of one year, as a field operative,” Kamal read the words aloud. “Is this for real, Iffi?”
“All the instructors were extremely impressed with your abilities, both in the classroom and out. The commandant still can’t understand how you were able to keep information about yourself so controlled from your own batch mates,” Iftikhar said, laughing. “We all believed that you would make an outstanding field operative, so we recommended that the command to put you in the field.”
If Kamal had yelled out in excitement and celebration, Iftikhar would have been stunned. Kamal kept his distance, and hid his emotions as though it were second nature. He wasn ’t disappointed. Kamal nodded gratefully, and carefully folded the letter back into the envelope. Would Dad be proud? Or would he just not care? He gave his friend a calculating look. “Want to meet my father?”
Iftikhar grinned. “Need a buffer, or do you have something else in mind?”
“It wouldn’t be wise for me to spill blood on this sacred ground. You’re coming along for his protection.”
They put out their cigarettes and pushed through the crowd still milling around the parade ground. It had thinned considerably, as most of the military personnel had dispersed, leaving families hanging around waiting for their sons. After the parade, most of the new operatives rushed to their commanders for their posting letters, dreaming of being appointed to a Pakistani consulate or embassy where they could rub elbows with the influential diplomatic world. Kamal knew, however, that this was a highly unlikely scenario; they would be posted to either division or field offices around Pakistan to be trained further during live action exercises. A select few, those who had many years in military service, would get posted to foreign countries to join on-going operations as administrative staff.
Kamal’s father was seated, alone, well towards the back of the rows of chairs set up for families. I’m shocked. Not only did he come to the graduation, it looks like he’s actually waiting for me.
As Kamal headed toward him, Afzal Khan rose from
Since he joined the Academy, Kamal had worked hard not to become overly friendly with his fellow candidates. He was naturally reserved and reticent, but he was also concerned that anyone could pass incorrect or compromising information about him to the Commandant. Instructors were kept at arm ’s length, keeping the relationship contained to the course and the material covered, with the exception of old colleagues like Iftikhar. Now that his time in the Jungle was over, no one knew more about Kamal than he wanted them to know and that was limited to superficial information that was already in his military files.
Iftikhar let Kamal change the subject. He had news for him, and had wanted to be the one who told him. “Kami, you should have a bit more confidence in your abilities,” he said, holding out a crisp, ivory envelope with an insignia in the top corner. Printed in bold in the center was Captain Kamal Khan.
Kamal hesitated for a moment before he reached for the envelope, trying to read the Major’s somber expression. Good news? Bad news? Damn the man. He deserves to be an instructor here; I can’t tell a bloody thing. He held the slim envelope in his hand, trying to guess the result by its weight. “Do you know where I’ve been posted?”
The Major rolled his eyes. “Just open the damn envelope.”
Kamal pulled out his pocketknife and slit the top open at the seam. Minutes seemed like hours as he took in the information printed on the heavy bond ivory letter inside. Was this a practical joke? Good one, Iffi. But as Kamal reread the letter a second time, it began to sink in that this was no joke.
“Due to your extensive experience and proven abilities in the field, the ISI is proud to post Captain Kamal Khan to the ISI divisional office in Peshawar, Pakistan for the period of one year, as a field operative,” Kamal read the words aloud. “Is this for real, Iffi?”
“All the instructors were extremely impressed with your abilities, both in the classroom and out. The commandant still can’t understand how you were able to keep information about yourself so controlled from your own batch mates,” Iftikhar said, laughing. “We all believed that you would make an outstanding field operative, so we recommended that the command to put you in the field.”
If Kamal had yelled out in excitement and celebration, Iftikhar would have been stunned. Kamal kept his distance, and hid his emotions as though it were second nature. He wasn ’t disappointed. Kamal nodded gratefully, and carefully folded the letter back into the envelope. Would Dad be proud? Or would he just not care? He gave his friend a calculating look. “Want to meet my father?”
Iftikhar grinned. “Need a buffer, or do you have something else in mind?”
“It wouldn’t be wise for me to spill blood on this sacred ground. You’re coming along for his protection.”
They put out their cigarettes and pushed through the crowd still milling around the parade ground. It had thinned considerably, as most of the military personnel had dispersed, leaving families hanging around waiting for their sons. After the parade, most of the new operatives rushed to their commanders for their posting letters, dreaming of being appointed to a Pakistani consulate or embassy where they could rub elbows with the influential diplomatic world. Kamal knew, however, that this was a highly unlikely scenario; they would be posted to either division or field offices around Pakistan to be trained further during live action exercises. A select few, those who had many years in military service, would get posted to foreign countries to join on-going operations as administrative staff.
Kamal’s father was seated, alone, well towards the back of the rows of chairs set up for families. I’m shocked. Not only did he come to the graduation, it looks like he’s actually waiting for me.
As Kamal headed toward him, Afzal Khan rose from
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