forty men in the convoy were on a cordon and search operation. The intelligence claimed that a team of twenty infiltrators had gotten through the defences and had been sighted by a roving Heron UAV around Loab village. The unit planned to put around a cordon by 0500 hours so that the militants, if there, would not have a chance to escape. In a covered gypsy behind him sat the Mukhbir or the localcontact who could identify anyone that should not be there. For obvious reasons, his identity had to be protected, and hence was masked.
As the convoy reached the village, Ankush ordered his section commanders to surround the village. He sent a J&K policeman, who was their local liaison, to rouse the Immam (the village priest) and the headman. The troops installed roadblocks on every possible route that could be used to escape from the village. By 0530 hours, men and women were separated. Kids were put in the school house with a female teacher. Ankush led his men on a house to house search. The civilian military aged males were filing past the Mukhbir in the covered Gypsy with darkened glasses. Twenty minutes into the search, a soldier called Ankush to one side and explained that the Mukhbir had something to say.
Ankush accompanied the intelligence officer, Vijay, a bored-looking Major, to the back of the car.
“Well? What is it Irfan bhai?” Irfan was a code name; all Mukhbirs in the district were called ‘Irfans’.
“Sir, this man,” he gestured towards a tall man presumably in his thirties whom the soldiers had taken to one side. “This man is Asim and he is from Trigam. He is a political worker for Hurriyat conference,” said Irfan referring to the primary separatist party in Kashmir. “It’s the first time in three years that he has ever come to his family house.”
This information suddenly seemed to have bolstered Vijay’s interest, “Get that fellow into the back of the truck, Havildar Saheb,” he hollered to the Havildar Major. Then he turned around, picked up a 9mm pistol, asked for the house Asim had been brought out from and took two soldiers to that house. These three were joined by two local policemen. Half an hour’ssearch yielded some important evidence. The policemen tagged, recorded and marked it. Vijay turned to the police officer who took charge of the evidence.
“You will come to the camp now? Along with the evidence?” The policemen gestured that they would follow in their Gypsy. Vijay lit a cigarette and thoughtfully went back to the Gypsy, his eyes locked onto the protesting Asim. Ankush and his men were completing the search operation. He looked at his Timex Triathlon watch. It was already 1000 hours. He was eager to question the prisoner. A sixth sense told him that he had hit on something. It was another hour before the convoy of military vehicles left the village. As they drove towards the camp by a road hemmed in from the forest on both sides, a low thup-thup-thup of a Cheetah helicopter of the Indian Army could be heard. Ankush looked up and saw the chopper circling the forest. A convoy of army trucks was parked on the side of the road with troops dismounting. They were carrying Israeli Tavor rifles and wore bandanas on their heads; a few wore the coveted maroon beret.
Special Forces, so others are sniffing around too
, thought Ankush as he adjusted his Ray Bans. The convoy rolled on into the camp.
Asim displayed the attitude of a political prisoner, demanding loudly that he be immediately released. His brother was an ‘important’ man in the People’s Democratic Party (PDP), a local political outfit, and claimed that he would ruin the careers of those holding him. Even when the unit returned to the camp, Asim was still spouting threats. On reaching the camp, Asim was handed over to the civil police for documentation while Vijay and Ankush headed for lunch.
Post lunch, they briefed their Commanding Officer (CO) about the operation and headed to the cell to interrogate Asim. They
As the convoy reached the village, Ankush ordered his section commanders to surround the village. He sent a J&K policeman, who was their local liaison, to rouse the Immam (the village priest) and the headman. The troops installed roadblocks on every possible route that could be used to escape from the village. By 0530 hours, men and women were separated. Kids were put in the school house with a female teacher. Ankush led his men on a house to house search. The civilian military aged males were filing past the Mukhbir in the covered Gypsy with darkened glasses. Twenty minutes into the search, a soldier called Ankush to one side and explained that the Mukhbir had something to say.
Ankush accompanied the intelligence officer, Vijay, a bored-looking Major, to the back of the car.
“Well? What is it Irfan bhai?” Irfan was a code name; all Mukhbirs in the district were called ‘Irfans’.
“Sir, this man,” he gestured towards a tall man presumably in his thirties whom the soldiers had taken to one side. “This man is Asim and he is from Trigam. He is a political worker for Hurriyat conference,” said Irfan referring to the primary separatist party in Kashmir. “It’s the first time in three years that he has ever come to his family house.”
This information suddenly seemed to have bolstered Vijay’s interest, “Get that fellow into the back of the truck, Havildar Saheb,” he hollered to the Havildar Major. Then he turned around, picked up a 9mm pistol, asked for the house Asim had been brought out from and took two soldiers to that house. These three were joined by two local policemen. Half an hour’ssearch yielded some important evidence. The policemen tagged, recorded and marked it. Vijay turned to the police officer who took charge of the evidence.
“You will come to the camp now? Along with the evidence?” The policemen gestured that they would follow in their Gypsy. Vijay lit a cigarette and thoughtfully went back to the Gypsy, his eyes locked onto the protesting Asim. Ankush and his men were completing the search operation. He looked at his Timex Triathlon watch. It was already 1000 hours. He was eager to question the prisoner. A sixth sense told him that he had hit on something. It was another hour before the convoy of military vehicles left the village. As they drove towards the camp by a road hemmed in from the forest on both sides, a low thup-thup-thup of a Cheetah helicopter of the Indian Army could be heard. Ankush looked up and saw the chopper circling the forest. A convoy of army trucks was parked on the side of the road with troops dismounting. They were carrying Israeli Tavor rifles and wore bandanas on their heads; a few wore the coveted maroon beret.
Special Forces, so others are sniffing around too
, thought Ankush as he adjusted his Ray Bans. The convoy rolled on into the camp.
Asim displayed the attitude of a political prisoner, demanding loudly that he be immediately released. His brother was an ‘important’ man in the People’s Democratic Party (PDP), a local political outfit, and claimed that he would ruin the careers of those holding him. Even when the unit returned to the camp, Asim was still spouting threats. On reaching the camp, Asim was handed over to the civil police for documentation while Vijay and Ankush headed for lunch.
Post lunch, they briefed their Commanding Officer (CO) about the operation and headed to the cell to interrogate Asim. They
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