the apostate

“Manzoor didn't make it last night, Peace be upon his Soul”.

“We lost Bashaarat too! The infidel dogs got him. They pinned him to the wall behind the mosque.”

“How shall we break this to Khaala? She will die of it.”

Azim teared up as he looked away across the lane to an open drain that carried blood from a butcher's shop nearby.

“We have to get his body for the burial. Past the Indian swine.”

“They're still there. How, Azim? We don't have enough people for an operation.”

“It won't matter. You and I are enough for those bastards.”

“You are getting carried away by emotions at this time of grief. Remember what Maulanaa Sahib used to say about the timing of matryrdom”.

“This is not about shahaadat, Ashfaq. We will mow the pigs down and get the bodies before they lay their hands on them. You don't know what they're capable of...”.

“I don't see what or how.”

Azim paused and stared into his cousin's eyes for a few seconds.

“I recognize your affliction.”

“What affliction?”

“Cowardice.”

“How dare you say that? By Allah, I am not one to tolerate this. You know I hate them as much as we all do. You know I've led so many operations from the front! Ashfaq Mir fears no one but Allah Ta'ala!”.

“What is it then?”

“I hate to admit it, Azza, but the fact is that if one of us doesn't make it today, Khaala Jaan will surely not survive if she loses three within a single day!.”

“Is this what your Maulanaa taught you? No considerations for loved ones – they ought to rejoice should we achieve matryrdom!”.

“But that's not the point. Besides, I thought you said this wasn't about martyrdom? We can't afford to act rashly. The Manual advises any route that will lead to final success, however torturous or treacherous. I don't see how doing this would help our mission. We need to regroup and fight another day...”.

“What about Bashaarat's corpse, then? Doesn't he deserve a matryr's burial?”

“Be that as it may, the Indians are more humane that those buggering Pathans. At least they play by the rules. Besides, they have Muslimeen among them too, however discredited in our eyes. They will return Bashaa to Khaala.”

“This is apostate talk, Ashfaq. Allah won't forgive you, you're praising the infidel enemy! You're forgetting how we've all suffered at their hands”.

“I'm just stating the truth, Azza. Allah knows it is so.”

“Analyzing the infidels' ways is meaningless! The only truth is the Pathans helped us and we're here to kill the infidels.”

“Helped us? More like screwed us. You know what they did to Salim's nephew.”

“I'm not going to argue any more. You don't smell right, Ashaa – you're talking up the enemy because your balls have disappeared. If not for Allah, for your manhood's sake, get up and let's go!”.

“Your reason has left you. Let's go talk to the Maulanaa for guidance.”

“The Maulanaa is a man of letters, Ashfaq. Men of the sword don't rush for advice from mullahs on the battlefield every time they are in doubt. They leave their reason in Allah's hands and act upon their own righteousness with guts! Not pull over and mull over like cowards while the enemy slits their throats!”.

“Enough! Azza, that's enough madness. You're free to go on your own and achieve your personal shaahadat!”. Ashfaq kept shaking his left wrist in the air as he hid his face with the other hand.

Azim's right hand swiped his sprouting beard. The veins in his eyes ran scarlet.

“Allah has decided to wash my hands with the entrails of a filthy apostate first!”, Azim roared, as he cocked his AK-47.

"Naarai Takbeeeeeeer!!!"

“Allahhuuu..Akb....Khaaaalaaaaa!!!”.