I came to know that I was a very
talented person. My first public
exposure was in front of my own
home. My younger brothers
were all watching the monkey
show. They were so amused. But
they never knew that the person
handling that monkey was their
own brother. Then I was given
another duty. I was posted in
Sadar Market as a cobbler.
During that time, many bomb
attacks were prevented thanks
to the cobblerís watchful
eyes. Days kept passing and with
time I became a volunteer
guard, a vegetable seller and a
pawn shop operator at different
crowded places so vulnerable to
Back to basics; I was a primary
student when 1965 war was in
progress. The embryo of passion
started growing bigger and
bigger with days. I didnít have to
wait for long. Two hell years at
PMA were fun. Early
commissioned life wasnít so
thrilling because my dream was
to be the front man in case of
war but it shattered. I got a
Corps which wasnít directly
involved in war scenario. Life
was going fast forward mode
when it slowed down suddenly
and eventually came to a halt
and started anew.
ďLt. Habib, hold your nerves and
be sensible because intelligence
is all about nerves and sense.
Good luck!Ē Maj. Khalid's last
words to me helped me
throughout my service and they
still do. By 1980,s I had a lot of
experience of monitoring
different risky places in Karachi,
Quetta, Nankana Sahib, Lahore,
Sehwan Shareef, Swat,
Islamabad and so many other
places I donít remember.
Then came the most difficult
task of my career. It was
different. It was during that task
that I came to know of a
talented actor hidden in me. It
was the time to give an
audition. Acting to be a cross
border drug pusher, I was
caught by the BSF (Border
Security Forces) men. I was
taken to a lonely place and
tortured a lot. They suspected
me to be an enemy spy. How
could I be? I was a drug pusher
then and I maintained the same.
At the same time, I kept slipping
words that would make me
highly suspicious. I was on the
spot. They shifted me to an
intelligence quarter.
Luckily, one of my seniors was
working as a driver there. I was
so astonished to see him there
but then thatís how we people
are. Then I met someone
familiar. A Sikh Jawan who was
trained by me back home for
Khalistan Movement. He helped
me sneak out of that compound.
Till now I had collected more
than I was supposed to do;
thanks to 'the driver' and my
'studentí. I came back from
No rests, I went to Afghanistan. I
was assigned the job of keeping
CIA out of Afghan affairs. I did
the same. There, I recalled that I
had a cute daughter and
growing son at home too. It had
been two long years since I saw
them last time. I took break,
went home and spent some
valuable time with family. Their
questions, as ever, remained
unanswered. I have spent a busy
life. I forgot who I am. I just
remembered one thing; what
my task is.
There were some awkward
moments in life. When Taha
asked, "Where is your little finger
Abbu? What happened?" I had
no answer to the tears in his
eyes. When I called home after
six months, little soul Tania
picked the phone and started
crying, asking again and again
when you would be back Abbu. I
was always greeted with tears
and seen off with tears.
I donít need to explain what I
did for my country, for the
people of my country. I donít
need credits. I donít need
medals. I donít need prizes. I
have only one request to make.
People of sacred Pakistan, please
donít forget that there are
people who have families, who
have friends, who have young
blood in their veins, who have
dreams, who have passions, who
have mothers and sisters
waiting for them, who have
children at home, who have
everything a normal person has
but still they sacrifice everything.
I just want you to think of one
thing. For what do they offer
their toil, sweat and blood??
A Retired Army Officer