When Ajmal Kasab, the sole surviving terrorist behind Mumbai attacks was captured, he became an object of interest as he could not just give valuable clues about the masterminds of the attack and the modus operandi of Pakistan based Jihadis, but a study of his psychology could also provide an insight into the minds of the brainwashed and conditioned Fidayeen attackers.
A deep analysis of the various tests on Ajmal Kasab revealed shocking outcomes and enabled in construing correctly the gradual metamorphosis of this destitute Pakistani boy into a ruthless militant, besides throwing light on the entire set up, thriving under the Pakistan government’s wings that works day and night to manufacture more and more Jihadis with the raw material derived from the country’s poorest provinces.
July 1998
Graffiti on the yellow wall outside my village Faridkot in Punjab is the first thing that comes to my mind whenever I close my eyes and ruminate.
Go For Jihad….Go For Jihad...Markaz Dawat ul Irshad
My father makes very little money by selling dahi puri. Whatever he had was spent in sister Rukaiyya’s wedding. I detest my brother Afzal, who works as a labourer day and night and brings home so little. Munir, Surriya and I constantly fight…….
September 2003
My parents forced me to join Afzal….but I can’t be a labourer…I returned and am lazing around…they can feed one more mouth…
3rd Nov 2005, Eid
I had a bitter fight with my father. He was unable to provide me with the clothes I had demanded. I am going away…to find means to become rich…
2006
I and friend Muzaffar Ali Khan are making a lot of money. They say I have fallen in bad company, but robbery is something that gives you quick bucks and the risk is minimal. Here you can easily get away with any crime as long as you keep the police happy.
Dec 21, 2007, Bakrid
It turned out to be an important day. While haggling over the price of weapons in the market (unlike India, here they are freely available, though rules speak otherwise) we met some workers of Jama’at –ud -Da’wah, the political wing of Lashkar. They gave us some pamphlets that they were distributing. They promised us fame, money and glory if we joined their base camp at Markaz Taiba. We agreed.
My father would not mind it too so long as I gave him money. Though later I gathered that he said on TV- ‘I don’t sell my sons.” Liar…!
March- April 2008
We were taken to a remote mountainous area of Muzaffarabad and then to Mangla Dam area and given training in various types of warfare. We were a batch of 24 men. It was fun!
The Training
We were given a crash course in terror attack in Daura Aam.
I was selected for specialised training in Daura Khas at Mansehra. General Saheb supervised us here.
Experienced military men of Pakistan Army and ISI trained us in sophisticated warfare. They made us watch repeatedly videos of Hindu atrocities in Kashmir…and brutal treatment meted out to Muslims in Palestine to Chechnya. The footages showed nothing unusual that we did not witness in our land daily, but somehow the trainers at our camp were able to generate a lot of hatred within us.
But more than the hatred it was money that mattered. Zakiur Rehman Lakhvi offered my family Rs 1, 50,000 if I participated in the attacks. Besides, all we had to do was to wield the gun, our safety was guaranteed as all arrangements had already been made.
Out of 25, ten of us were chosen for Mumbai Mission.
Mumbai Mission
The aim was to avenge the atrocities on our brethren (I still am not sure about these so called atrocities and how we were affected by it) and to replicate 9/11 type attacks. Nariman will be targeted for its Jewish connections and Taj is to suffer the fate of Marriott.
Mid 2008
I have been given stylish clothes, money, fancy watches and stylish bags. Unable to contain the urge to show them off to my family and neighbourhood, I literally begged to be allowed to go home. Hope was dim as after providing this kind of training we are rarely allowed to go home lest we spill the secret beans. But then, there are many open secrets in my mulk!
I have been given permission to visit Faridkot…but for a very short duration and along with two army men in disguise.
Passage to India
It didn’t turn out to be difficult at all. The country has practically no surveillance in its waters. We boarded Al-Husseini (the boat) from Karachi in Pakistan to come to Mumbai. Zakiur Rehman Lakhvi, Abu Jindal and Abu Hamza came to see us off. We carried ration and oil (fuel). Later, we shifted to Indian fishing trawler 'Kuber' and slit the throat of its navigator.
Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus
My Versace designer label T-shirt and stylish cargos stole away the attention from my luggage which had rifles and ammunition. Clothes make such a hell lot of a difference!
Ismail and I managed to kill nearly 50 unsuspecting travellers in Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus. It was blood all over. At first I felt slightly giddy. But Zakiur Rehman Lakhvi and Yusuf Muzammil’s encouragement over phone boosted our confidence.
Cama Hospital
We fired randomly on a police vehicle, killing on spot three senior police officials clad in bullet-proofs! One was ATS Chief Karkare, the other was Encounter Specialist Salaskar and the third was Additional Commissioner Kamte.
We took two constables as hostages.
Metro Cinema, Vidhan Bhavan
We fired a few shots at the crowd at Metro cinema and Vidhan Bhavan just for the fun of it! In the meanwhile Ismail shot one of the constables when his mobile rang.
Chowpatty
Reaching Chowpatty was not in our plan. But police had got the message and they nailed us here. Ismail died in the gun fight that followed. I pretended to be dead and when a sub inspector (Tukaram Omble) armed just with a lathi tried to capture me, I pumped five bullets in his body, but he held on to my weapon till his colleagues captured me!
A mob gathered and attacked my vehicle. I was scared to death!
Hospital
I had killed hundreds in a night, but the death of Ismail and the pain due to the bullet lodged in my arm took all my wits away. All I wanted at that moment was to live..! “Put me on saline…I do not want to die”, I pleaded with the hospital staff.
But when the police began to grill me, I realized what I had landed into and sincerely wished to die! I was supposed to be a Fidayeen who is never captured alive…but I was..!
In Jail
My name is not Kasab. I am Amir Ajmal and I belong to Kasav (butcher) caste. It angers me when they call me by this name.
I have told them everything. May be they can leave me if I turn approver.
I told them I can work for India also if I am paid well.
I have told them that I will speak only before the camera.
They asked me about jihad. I told them what I was taught, that you kill in jihad and become rich and famous.
No lawyer is ready to fight for me.
I am pained and shocked. My own Pakistan’s Prime Minister refuses to admit that I belong to his country. Then where do I belong to?
No one has yet contacted me. No one has attempted to free me.
I feel like a lab animal.
They asked me to recite verses from Quran. But I have never read it!
Time and again I am taken to the court. Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I cry. Showing that I am mentally deranged may help me.
I can ask for anything, do any thing. This is a country where every one has ample rights-even militants like me. I want everything on camera so that the human rights people can fight for me!
I have demanded basmati rice. I abuse openly and fight with the staff here. I like doing so…..
They have coaxed me to read Gandhi, thinking I will change!
I have accused the jail authorities of giving me drug laced food. I know all that I say in court is splashed by media…
Almost all witnesses have identified me. The CCTV cameras have my footage, killing and rampaging. I had confessed earlier hoping for some respite and also hoping that the Pakistan Generals would rescue me. But all my hopes have been frustrated. I have understood that Fidayeens are not supposed to live…
Did they use me in the name of religion; did they exploit my poverty and vulnerable age? I was trained like an army man, entrusted with a task which they said inspired respect and would make Islam proud, I felt like a hero…..but they made me a villain, a killer, a terrorist!
And now they are not ready to acknowledge me…my father, mother, villagers, friends…all deny my existence!
I feel horrified thinking that the bodies of the ‘martyrs of Islam’ are rotting in an enemy state…and the advocates of religion are moving freely, enjoying, making public appearances, giving lectures and converting more and more Kasabs into mindless robots ready to kill, avenge and destroy beings so lovingly created by Allah….
No comments:
Post a Comment