New Fiction from Pakistan – The Door Orderly by Ilm Dost

Gentle readers, I am very pleased to present, below the fold, some exciting new fiction from Pakistan. The author ILM DOST wishes to maintain his anonymity. He is an ex-officer from the Pakistan Air Force, possesses a Phd, and currently teaches undergraduates at an institute of learning in Pakistan.

“He often says ‘Lead, follow or get out of the way. I can’t follow this system but before I get out of it, I’ll try to lead it – in the right direction’.” I told Squadron Leader Qasim who, after pondering a while asked, “What does Murad usually do in leisure time?”

“Reads a lot. He’s got voracious appetite for reading. Poetry mostly. Faiz is his favorite. He quotes from him a lot. His pet line is something about bazaar mein chalo. Something of that sort.”

“Aaj bazaar mein pa bajolan chalo?” Qasim asked
.
“That’s it.” I never knew Qasim was into poetry or had any active knowledge of Red poets like Faiz Ahmed Faiz, but it was no time for such talk.

“What was Murad’s reaction when he was assigned the duty?” Qasim asked as he noted something on a piece of paper on the table in front of him. I sat on a chair against the opposite wall.

“Initially, the obvious. He started venting his anger – all that stuff about self-respect, pride and principles that he is so fond of talking about. Why should a uniformed person be made to open a door for anyone? Why would any human open a door for another human? He was saying over and over again. Here comes poetry, I remember I said as he was pacing up and down the room. And sure enough, he came up with this: And much it grieved my heart to think, what Cadets’ Wing has made of cadets.” I laughed but Qasim was serious.

“Then what? You said initially…..”

“Yes. A day or two later, he was different – quite strangely. He said he would do the duty. He said he would make an opportunity out of it – let me learn from our bosses, he added sarcastically. Why this change? I asked him. I would show them the door to reality, he said.”

“What did he mean by that?”

“He did not say. And I did not pay much attention. You can’t heed to everything he says – kind of eccentric, that he is.”

Qasim made some more notes and then said in English, “Alright. You can go now. I’ll call you later.”

Despite being my cousin, Qasim made sure he kept sufficient distance from me and had the annoying ability of getting in and out of the officer’s garb in the wink of an eye. From a soft-spoken gentleman he could transform himself into a dragon before you knew it. He was neither good-looking nor of muscular build but there was a graceful athleticism about the way he conducted himself; I was proud of the fact that my cousin was one of the most liked of the Cadets’ Wing officers, an officer many cadets deemed as some kind of a role model. However, not many cadets knew that his loyalty to rules and principles could be exasperating.

“What’s going to happen to him?” I asked as I rose to leave.

“Can’t really say. My job is to bring out the facts, as they are.”

“But is he in trouble?”

“On the face of it, yes. What do you expect after what he did?”

“But you can save him, can’t you?”

“I told you my job is to find out and reveal the facts.”

“But he is a good boy. A good cadet. He is good in studies, helps the weak ones. And he is a good speaker; you have seen him win some prizes, haven’t you? And he’s not a bad athlete.”

“I know.” As he leaned forward and put his elbows on the tables, Qasim said with an air of finality.

***************************************

Although I was hoping that Qasim might paint it as an accident, everything about the incident said – in strength five, as we would say in military parlance – that Murad did it on purpose. It happened during the open house ceremony of the graduating course. As I told Qasim, Murad had initially resented being detailed as the door orderly but later accepted the duty. The rehearsals ran smoothly and on the final day of the ceremony as I entered the academy auditorium I spotted Murad, immaculately dressed and standing primly alongside the entrance to the main hall. He was tall and slightly bulky but always looked good in uniform. The other side of the door was guarded by Shahzad, another course-mate of ours. Murad and I exchanged smiles as I went to take my seat at the back of the main hall. As I learnt soon, that was the last I saw of him for the next few days. Taking advantage of the low light, some cadets were dozing peacefully undetected, while a few nerds were preparing for the exam which was due the following day.

There was a great deal of hustle and bustle in the auditorium. Senior officers gave muffled orders, junior officers ran around trying to make sure everything was in place for the ceremony and some wiser ones sat comfortably in nooks. Announcements from a squadron leader on the dais requested everyone to take their seats and soon the hall fell silent in anticipation of the chief guest’s arrival. A few minutes later, the door to the left of the dais was opened from the outside – by Murad and Shahzad obviously – as the caution was heard, “Ladies and gentleman! The chief guest!” Everyone rose to their feet as an air vice marshal entered.

What happened next stunned everyone present. The chairs in the auditorium were arranged on a staircase – as in a cinema hall – which climbed away from the dais. Thus those in the back row sat slightly higher than the one in front of them. But, since everyone was on their feet, the heads of the front row people obscured what happened to those sitting in the rear rows. So what I, and many others, initially saw beggared belief. As the AOC followed at the heels of the chief guest, one of the swing doors through which the chief guest had entered swung back and hit the next person – who must have been the AOC – with a thud which sounded painfully loud in the quiet that had descended on the hall. Hit on the face perhaps, the AOC fell backward into someone’s arms. After the gasps that arose all over the hall, silence fell again. The chief guest had turned around and was saying some sympathetic words to the poor AOC. Then someone started shouting, with everyone in the hall wondering what had actually happened.

Later it was left to Murad’s partner Shahzad to narrate what actually transpired. His account in conjunction with what I saw with my own eyes revealed the following. The swing door which was supposed to be held open by Murad had swung back and hit the AOC – yes, it was actually the AOC. Commandant CAE avoided the fall while OC Cadets’ Wing, who would have been the fourth to enter the hall, started to shout controlled obscenities at a surprisingly calm and unrepentant Murad. Commandant CAE, again rescuing the situation, whispered something to OC Cadets’ Wing. Murad was promptly replaced and with the AOC declaring himself fit, the normalcy returned to the ceremony.

The events after the ceremony however indicated that the situation was far from normal. Even while the student projects were on display, officers were seen in groups, whispering to each other. Murad’s absence added to the mystery. As expected, our afternoon was spent in the parade ground at the mercy of the Cadets’ Wing officers. Standing in the parade ground, I kept thinking about Murad while a squadron leader was shouting about how disrespectful and casual the cadets had become. Disrespect or casualness, what was Murad guilty of? I wondered.

After the cadets were dispersed from the parade ground, I was sprawled on my bed still in uniform which was drenched in sweat, when a course-mate ran in informing me that Qasim wanted to see me. Instead of relaying a message through the duty cadet, he had come to the cadets’ mess. Buttoning up my shirt, I rushed outside where Qasim waited for me in his black Corolla parked outside our residential quarters. No, there was no time to change, he said and beckoned me to get in the car and we drove to his office. Walking the corridors of the Cadets’ Wing was no less frightening in the evening as it was in the day. As he unlocked the door to his office, Qasim told me that he was in charge of the inquiry ordered into the circumstances. My anxiety was mixed with a hope that Murad might have a chance.

***************************************

“What does Murad say?” I asked Qasim during the second question answer session.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you his version of the event. This information can prejudice your …….”

“Qasim bhai! Can you please forget your rules and regulations for a while? Can you be a little less gracia?” Irritated, I used the slang term frequently employed by cadets to refer to someone who was too conscious of their seniority and maintained a distance from their subordinates.

“I’ve told you umpteen times not to address me as bhai here. In this academy, I am an officer and you a bloody cadet. Is that understood?” he continued when I did not reply,” and why should I save him? Just because he’s my cousin’s roommate?”

“No. Because he’s a very fine fellow. He’s got brains and he’s got guts. And there are people in this academy more deserving of being thrown out than he is, but the system allows itself to be cheated by them. It’s you who talk about honesty and bravery all the time. Why don’t you appreciate Murad for his qualities now?”

An officer passing by Qasim’s front door was amazed, perhaps at the volume at which a cadet was speaking to an officer. But he did not stop to find out why. Most officers in the Cadets’ Wing knew that I was related to Qasim.

“Let me complete the findings and I’ll see.” Qasim’s voice softened but I knew he would not relent on matters of principles.

A phone rang, Qasim answered it and then stood up, “OC Sahib wants to see me. I’ll be back in a minute.” He meant OC Cadets’ Wing.

When he did not return for some time, I realized I had a chance to find out Murad’s version of the story. I rose to my feet and closed the door quietly. Then I tiptoed to Qasim’s table on which a number of files were lying haphazardly. The one about the inquiry was on top. The caption which had been crossed out and edited a number of times read: to inquire into the circumstances under which the AOC PAF Academy was hit by a door held open by Aviation Cadet Murad PAK/73221 on 14 April, 2008 in the Academy Auditorium.

The risk that I was taking was not ordinary; I did not even prepare what I’d say if someone dropped into the office and caught me sneaking into an officer’s files. My curiosity made me oblivious of the danger. It was much later in hindsight that I realized my foolhardiness.

The file cover enclosed loose papers and manuscripts, some handwritten and other typed. With beating heart and shaking hands, I rummaged through them. Photocopies of what looked like pages from Murad’s dossier also lay there. I was astonished to see copies of pages from Faiz’s poetry obviously taken from one of Murad’s books. And there were some pages from Murad’s diary – I immediately recognized his handwriting and a poem that he once showed me.

What were they up to? I realized that, reposing my trust in Qasim, I had perhaps told him too much about Murad. But when did they pick up Murad’s stuff? Then I remembered Fazal, our batman, telling me how some Cadets’ Wing officers had visited our room while I was in the classroom and broken the lock on Murad’s cupboard, replacing the lock with a padlock of their own.

Eventually I found Murad’s statement. I rushed through it; it was no different from what I knew about the incident – Murad the truthful, I thought. I jumped to the middle of the Q&A part. It read like this:

Q: Did you do it on purpose or was it an accident?
A: I did it on purpose. [Murad the moron, I thought]
Q: Why did you do it?
A: I wanted to make a statement against the degrading practice of putting cadets as door orderlies.
Q: Can you explain how does your act of disrespect make such a statement?
A: Am I not getting the opportunity to make this statement now? Don’t you think I got this opportunity because of what I did?
There were some questions which were actually cautioning Murad not to use questions in his answers. I skipped that part and rushed to the next question.
Q: Could you not have used a more effective and less violent mean of making such a statement?
A: When SUO Salman told me to be ready for this duty, I tried to explain my viewpoint to him. But he told me to shut up.
Q: As a uniformed person, are you not supposed to follow your superior’s orders?
A: I am. But when I feel that some of these orders are actually in conflict with the larger aims of the organization, ……….

Qasim’s voice telling someone to bring him a cup of tea was heard outside the office and interrupted my study of Murad’s lofty ideas. I quickly returned the file to as close to its original shape as possible and returned to my chair just in time.

***************************************

Qasim also called two other course-mates of ours; they were asked similar questions about Murad, they told me later. In the next meeting, Qasim finalized my statement and asked me to sign it.

“You should read it carefully before you sign it.” I did. It was exact reproduction of what I had told him.

“But this won’t help his case.” I said with resentment. “I told you everything because I thought I could confide in you.”

“Murad had already confessed. Whatever you say will have little effect on the outcome of the inquiry”. Qasim said in his policeman-like manner – the one that I found so irritating – leaning back in his revolving chair. He was right but I felt that somehow Qasim the rational could win over Qasim the loyalist and save Murad. I signed the statement.

As if to placate me or perhaps to show his rational side – the one that I was yearning for – Qasim showed me a copy of the findings of the inquiry. I read it as Qasim instructed a clerk about the proceedings of the inquiry.

The board finds that
(a) Aviation Cadet Murad Pak/73221 was not happy with his detailing as door orderly, considering it as degrading. He tried to convince Aviation Cadet SUO Salman but did not get the opportunity to express his point of view.
(b) Aviation Cadet Murad shut the door in AOC’s face on purpose. He is thus guilty of insubordinate behavior.
(c) Aviation Cadet Murad holds ideas which appear to be in conflict with the norms of the military. However, he is an intelligent and erudite cadet and with proper counseling may be molded into a useful cadet.

The reverse of the paper read:

The board recommends that
(a) Aviation Cadet Murad may be charged with insubordinate behavior and his case may be put up before the Academy Review Board.
(b) Aviation Cadet Murad may be counseled by a psychiatrist in order to align his ideas in conformity with the military norms.
“Do you think he is mad?” I asked Qasim in disbelief.
“Understand the difference, you idiot. His ideas may be dangerous for the organization.”

I read on.

(c) The swing-doors in the Academy hall may be replaced with ordinary doors which can be held open by wooden stoppers and cadets may not be detailed as door orderlies.

“What will he get?” I asked.

“Minimum of relegation to the junior course.”

***************************************

But Qasim was wrong. Murad returned after an absence of three days. He was as clueless as anyone else about what had been decided about him. In fact he did not have much to tell, quite a contrast to what I expected him to be on return from a cell which I did not know existed near the Guard room.

Instead of pressing Murad for clues, I rang up Qasim the same evening. He did not answer my questions but told me he’d pick me up in an hour. He did and drove me to the Nest, the small restaurant of the Academy.

“Has he been saved?” I asked as he drove. Qasim appeared to be phrasing his words in his head and answered me when we took our seats in the Nest.

“I don’t think so. They will throw him out soon; how can anyone slam the door in AOC’s face and get scot free?”

“What do you mean?”

“They have decided on a series of smaller punishments – red strip plus twenty-one restrictions for casual behavior.”

“But what about the inquiry?”

“Ended up in the bin, perhaps.”

The puzzled look on my face prompted Qasim to explain, “They did not want to admit that Qasim did it on purpose. How could the AOC let it be documented that he was insulted the way he was and that dangerous minds are lurking in the PAF Academy? Silly of me to think that he would. They asked me to scrap that part of the inquiry. But Murad would not change his statement.” Qasim spoke slowly as he sipped a coke.

“So?”

“So they scrapped my findings in total and put Squadron Leader Yawar to hold an investigation.”

“Flight Commander, one squadron?”

“Yes, the same one.” Qasim suppressed an expletive.

“All the part about degrading the cadets was removed. Also, everything about rebellious ideas, Faiz’s poetry and all that. And it was nicely trimmed down to this: that it was an accident and ……”

“What?”

“Yes. Wasn’t that what you wanted?” Qasim smiled and continued, “And that Murad may be punished for careless behavior, that cadets from final term may be detailed as door orderlies.” Qasim laughed as he said this.

After a long pause, I asked, “How come Squadron Leader Qasim is telling me all this?”

“Because some of us sitting in very responsible positions take decisions which confound me and I think there is no harm in letting a young cadet know about this, in the hope that he might grow into a more principled officer.” He spoke in carefully chosen words and then resumed after a pause. “But there’s more. There will be strict monitoring of what cadets read. Faiz, Sahir, Jalib: all of them will go out the window. Iqbal is fine. No one understands Ghalib or they would ban him too, I guess.”

Fortunately I was no fan of poetry and was not worried about the ban. “You sound very bitter.” I had never seen Qasim like this.

“I just had an exchange of hot words with the OC. I wanted the inquiry to go ahead as I had done it. But who wants Air Headquarters to know about stuff like radical cadets aspiring to change the system?”

“What happens to Murad now?”

“He will go, I’m sure. Not sure how but he’s not staying very long.”

In fact, it happened much sooner than Qasim thought. While Murad ran around the Academy with a backpack of bricks, he was marked absent in three exams and was eventually terminated on a combination of academic and disciplinary grounds.

“I don’t think I can lead them. So I must get out,” were some of his last words.

Less than a week later, Qasim was posted to PAF Base Rajanpur. It’s a desert in the middle of nowhere, he tells me on the phone frequently, but the good thing is that he gets a lot of time to read Faiz and Sahir, he says.

***************************************
Notes:
OC: Officer Commanding
AOC: Air Officer Commanding
SUO: Squadron Under Officer