CERTAIN events that occur in one’s life sometimes border on fiction; and certain matters of one’s faith, seemingly so remote to come about, sometimes mysteriously become factual. Here is a description of a journey, which was nothing short of a miracle.
On completing my naval training in the UK and getting ready for the journey back home, I received instructions from the Pakistan High Commission, London that I had to take charge of a sailor who had absconded from a Pakistan Naval Ship and escort him back to Karachi. At Heathrow Airport, the High Commission Staff handed over that person to me. It was a tricky assignment. It’s outcome could have been of any nature. I thought it was not difficult for this person, who had once before absconded from his post, to find an easy turn away at any stoppage en route or to create a situation to his advantage which would save him from the trial by court-martial which awaited him on his return. Anyhow, there was nothing which could be done to avert the imaginary or unforeseen stops planned by this person to take advantage of the situation. I knew it was going to be a very uneasy flight back home.
On our way back, the PIA flight stopped at two places before arriving at Baghdad, which was the last stop before Karachi. The journey so far had passed without any hitch. The person in my company showed no signs of what I had feared — he seemed to have reconciled to what was in store for him. Baghdad was the last stop-over before Karachi. It was getting dark now. As the plane took off, it struck me that it had been my lifelong desire to be able to visit the holy places in Iraq; but, having come so close to the city of Baghdad I could still not make it to visit the shrines of the many saints or for that matter to have been able to visit Karbala situated so close to Baghdad.
My thoughts went back to my companion who was sitting in the seat beside me. Why would a young man run away from his job, his family, his country and risk getting lost in a foreign land? Economic factors, the lure of a foreign land or injustices at home? As similar thoughts occupied my mind, it felt as if the sounds coming from the cabin were getting low on decibels. The plane seemed to have lost some height. The announcement over the intercom informed the passengers that one engine of the plane had been turned off because of some defect and that the plane was being diverted to Kuwait. After a few uneasy minutes, the announcement was heard that as Kuwait Airport was not equipped for night-landings, the flight was returning to Baghdad. After half an hour we re-landed at Baghdad Airport. The passengers were put up at a hotel where PIA crew also stayed. I preferred to share the room with my charge. Of course, it was a sleepless night — the fear of another escape and the desire — now a burning one — to visit the holy shrines were making me agitated.
At breakfast, I broached the subject with the pilot. He was not willing to allow any passenger to leave Baghdad as he expected a substitute plane to arrive from Karachi. He would leave even if any passenger was adrift, he said. This was a fair advice under the circumstances. Still, my craving for visiting Karbala and Najaf would not subside. I talked to the flight engineer to assess the situation. It so happened that he agreed to accompany us to the holy city. What better insurance could one get under the circumstances?
So, a taxi was hired which took us to Karbala. The person whom I was escorting was also with us. I told him that I could not take him to the city of the martyrs as a bonded person and that he should accompany me and seek forgiveness for whatever wrong he had committed. After a journey of little over an hour we arrived on the outskirts of Karbala. Hurriedly we paid our respects at the shrine of Hazrat Imam Hussain and then to the shrine of Hazrat Abbas.
The rituals, which are usual or mandatory for such visits, could not be performed because of the limited time. At a brisk pace we saw the place around and returned to Kazmain on the outskirts of Baghdad where the shrines of the 7th and 9th Imams are situated. Nearby, we visited the mausoleum of Hazrat Ghousal Azam and returned to the hotel by midday. The much-awaited PIA plane had not yet arrived from Karachi. I thought immediately, had we known so, we might as well have gone further into Najaf, the resting place of the fourth caliph of Islam and still made it in time for our flight back to Karachi.
The relief plane ultimately arrived at Baghdad in the evening and we reached Karachi the next day. Still, another unexplained event in the same chain followed when, after three months, I was back in Iraq on-board a Pakistan Navy Ship, which had sailed at Basra on a goodwill mission. A trip to Karbala and Najaf was arranged at the invitation of the Iraqi government and the desire to visit the shrine of Hazrat Ali, which had engaged my mind three months back after the hurried pilgrimage to Karbala, was also fulfilled. How can one explain all these events?
