Under the shadow of death

I had a close encounter with death, yes death, in the first few minutes of my tour of Peshawar.

Last week, I visited Peshawar. It was a trip I’ll never forget. Reason:  I had a close encounter with death, yes death, in the first few minutes of my tour. As a taxi drove me, my wife and my little son out of the airport, a policeman, wearing a bulletproof vest, signalled us to stop at a checkpoint fortified with sandbags and barbed wire. He asked the cabbie to prove his identity. After the driver showed him his ID card, the policeman directed him to take a detour towards the Bara Gate area and then take the Mall Road, instead of driving on the shorter route lined with military establishments on both sides.

The driver drove straight, assuming he could take the next by-lane to get onto the Mall. It was a mistake — one that could have proved fatal. A military patrol vehicle appeared from nowhere and soldiers jumped down in commando-style, pointing their LMGs at the cab. We were taken aback. The driver got down hesitantly, walked up to the troops and proved his identity. “Drive back to the checkpoint,” a grim-faced soldier ordered the cabbie. Order obeyed. The poor cabbie was reprimanded by the young policeman manning the checkpoint. “You made a terrible mistake. It could have cost the innocent family their lives,” I overheard the visibly angry policeman telling the frightened cabbie.

After a few tense and taxing moments, we were allowed to proceed. We were lucky. But not everyone is. “On the night of August 13, two teenaged revellers were shot dead only because they did not stop their motorbike at a checkpoint,” the cabbie told me. It’s quite a hassle to drive in Peshawar these days. The picturesque Mall Road is now specked with military checkpoints, barricades and barbed fences. You can't drive even a few yards without applying the brakes. Every building along the Mall is heavily fortified with sandbags around and snipers atop. It’s a different Peshawar, completely different from the one I explored during my years at the University of Peshawar. My memories of Peshawar are of a clean, peaceful and serene city, with all its old quarters, such as the fabled Qissa khawani bazaar, painted in sepia, and every building telling the story of its glorious past. Now a pall of gloom hangs over the city. And its denizens live under the shadow of death.

This fear factor is further magnified by the kind of security arrangements put in place by authorities. “They are only creating hassles for commuters,” said the cabbie, pointing to a checkpoint. “Terrorists hit targets whenever and wherever they want,” he added. “Sahib, for how long will we live under the shadow of death?” I didn’t have an answer. And I’m sure neither do our political leaders.

Published in The Express Tribune, October 26^th, 2010.