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#InsideKabul: The ‘Barrister’


It was the early nineties – there was no electricity and fuel supply was very limited to feed the generator – the hotel on a hillock overlooking the southern fringe of Kabul was dark. But for the few candles, various flashlights and makeshift lamps, total blackout could have taken over the once plush hotel – part of a renowned international chain.

Thus, I would sit by the window and watch the horizon light up with firepower after dark; unaware that in a few years, this part of the hotel would almost crumble when the Taliban militia advanced.

Most of the rooms were been occupied by long-haired and bearded, multi-pocket-vest-wearing, Kalashnikov-carrying mujahideen. Each wanted to be addressed as ‘commander’.

Food was served in a large hall, with the menu comprising a lamb broth and large, thick bread and/or ‘Kabooli’ – rice fried with some vegetable and dry fruits sprinkled over. The residents shared this feast three times a day; followed – or preceded, or accompanied – by dark tea, sipped with a small piece of toffee on the tongue. And everywhere in the hotel, cigarette and ‘hashish’ smoke hung in the air!

As I sat that evening at a table, trying to decipher the conversation carried out by the mujahideen in Dari and Pashto – with a few ‘commanders’ trying to include me in broken Urdu – I noticed an elderly man walk in. Though he wore the same cap and a ‘pathan suit’ with a multi-pocket vest on top a la the mujahids, he stood out with his well-groomed looks.

He strode straight up to our table and addressed me in a clipped accent, “Mr. Bhattacharya?” I nodded. “Mind if I join you…?”

I shifted my chair a little, as he dragged another beside me.

He was a Bar-at-Law from London, resident of Karachi, and “‘occasionally’ advised the Afghan government”… He had ‘ISI’ stamped all over him – or wanted to send out that message – despite the fact that ‘Afghan government’ loathed the Pakistani intelligence agency.

We spoke about ‘The Great Game’ till almost midnight, each trying to elicit information from the other, each realizing that a fencing match was in progress. Yet, the conversation was so intense that neither could leave the table till both were almost pushed out…!

The next morning I found photocopy of a London newspaper clipping slipped through under my door. It reported the arrival of US Marines at Bagram airport on the heels of one elusive Mir Aimal Kansi.

(Yes, either the ‘barrister’ was carrying photocopies or went through a lot of trouble to obtain one for me!)

Little did I know that very soon I would perhaps be within ‘shouting distance’ of the elusive killer… (PLEASE READ: https://jayantabsays.blogspot.com/2019/08/insidekabul-early-nineties.html)


(This post is the musings of Jayanta Bhattacharya. It has nothing to do with where he works or what he does to earn his bread. In case of any criticism or suggestion, write to @Jayantab15 on Twitter / Facebook or jayantab15@gmail.com on email)

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