At the start of this sorry fable were the Reds, the Yanks and the Afghan people. For reasons unclear, now hard to construe, Brezhnev told the folks at Army HQ: “Winter is here, ‘tis the season to plunder. Let us overrun Badland-istan down under.” Followed a sudden strike under cover of dark and the Graveyard of Empires gained a striking red mark.
The next day, all hell broke loose. Kabul was suddenly Top of the News. Censure, outrage and condemnation doggedly trailed the Soviet invasion. “Shocking!” gasped the U.N. and the Western states. “The ummah is under attack,” moaned the Gulf potentates.
“Preposterous!” fumed Uncle Sam. “Bullying neighbours to do what is right. The gall of that Commie has-been, how dare he infringe on my copyright?”
“The time has come,” the superpower said, “to chart a course unseen. To lay waste the ranks of the Reds, let's pump up the arms of Green.”
Came together in reply, a rag-tag band of tribesman, mercenary and brigand. Snipers, Stingers with blowpipes in between joined warlord after warlord in the tureen. To get the fanatical crust to harden was added a fistful of Osama bin Laden. As day followed day of Moscow's defiance, men, missiles and moolah bolstered the anti-Red alliance. Sure, this would fan the jihadi fire but that's chump change to topple the Evil Empire.
Sam and the Sheikhs turned up the heat, forcing the Reds to beat a hasty retreat. As the Afghan wound morphed into a Bloc-sized abscess, “So long,” said Sam. “Have fun cleaning the mess.”
The mujahideen were on a roll. Alas! The enemy had fled. The arms cache was full. Sadly, the targets were dead. Kashmir was a nice distraction. Still, the pent-up aggro craved for global action. Ennui set in. There was little reason to cheer until the twin affront of the Towers loomed tantalisingly near.
“Great Satan must now meet the Reds' fate. Go forth,” bade Osama B., “and obliterate.” The Twin Towers fell in a pile that drove Al-Qaeda into permanent exile. With an 800-pound gorilla thirsting for blood, Pakistan turned tail. Mullah Omar was mud. “My page or the Stone Age?” growled Junior Bush. “We are yours forever,” swore a petrified Mush.
Still, duplicity is addictive. Bad habits run deep. Why not hunt with the wolf even as you forewarn the sheep? As the left hand scooped up the proffered greenbacks, the right arm waved through further attacks. For nine long years ran the best double act in Badlandistan. As NATO snipers combed hill and vale desperately seeking the Laden trail, in a whitewashed villa in plain Pak-Mil view, the 9/11 kingpin savoured DVDs, strictly NSFW. With two wives, some goats and children galore, life was tolerably good, if a bit of a bore, until a pod of SEALS sneaked in to snatch, on a moonless May night, Pindi's prized catch. As ISAF Happy Tunes dissolved into Songs of Perfidy, Pakistan joined the chorus (if somewhat off-key)
"They sought him here. We hid him there.
Hillary saw him everywhere.
He promised us Heaven.
They are giving us Hell.
Can we forget already - OBL ?”
The guns keep firing. There are bodies galore as suicide bombers earn their 72 in unstoppable flow. NATO tankers turn to ash in a glorious explosion while warlord downs warlord in a chain reaction. At Jihad Central, it is Past Perfect again (except that yesterday's pal is today's resident pain).
“We've run out of COINs,” cries the US. “It is time to go.” “Hear, hear!” gasps a boneweary NATO. “ISAF is in ruins, the economy's gone under. With a bottom line this soiled, the buzzword is Pamper. Let us give them all their hearts' desire: unfettered power, blood money, their choice of fire. Isloo's terror factory is hard to contain but if they leave us in peace, we will not complain. If the jihadis stay out of the West, we care not what they do to the rest. As we did, a decade ago, let us hand Pakistan the key to this store. Sure, we've seen this movie before but anything, anything to head for the door.”
Meanwhile the world primes itself for the coming treat – counting the months until the inevitable: Rub, rinse, repeat.
(The writer's email is shami71@yahoo.com)
