They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. And that is exactly how it was on the eve of May 12, 2007 when a bunch of passengers flew in to Karachi International Airport from Islamabad, all eager to get to their destination in the city — family, work and the likes. What we weren’t prepared for, of course, was the limbo that awaited us at the Karachi airport.

Several minutes after landing, the doors of the aircraft remained closed on some 100 or so odd passengers who patiently waited to get off.

The delay was confounding as was the reluctance on the part of the cabin crew to eke out information. It was then that cellphones began ringing and news started trickling in: Karachi was under siege, so to speak. All roads leading to the airport and even the main thoroughfares, for that matter, were closed. There was no one to receive us at the airport or take us home.

After considerable deliberation on part of the cabin crew and outrage on part of the passengers, we were allowed to get off on to a deserted airport. Many breathed a sigh of relief that came all too soon. All entry and exit points, to and from the airport had been closed.

The Rangers were patrolling the area and were routinely manhandling women who were trying to collect their baggage. “Touch me and I’ll break off each of your fingers one by one,” I warned one of the Rangers who headed in my direction. He backed off — probably owing to the menacing voice and crazed look.

Upon asking the Civil Aviation Authority’s Vigilance Cell what exactly we were supposed to do now, they calmly told us that we couldn’t get out of the airport and were most welcome to spend the night either in the waiting lounges or the airport hotel. Panic set in at the thought: the Chief Justice was due to fly in tomorrow morning at the Karachi airport and given the way the situation on that front had escalated, I really wasn’t looking forward to getting caught in the eye of the storm.

Inquiries were made — when was the earliest PIA flight leaving for Islamabad? “3.00am,” answered the booking agent which was not too bad considering that it was already 1.30 in the morning. Finding just about enough money in my bag to buy a ticket, I proceeded to the departure lounge in search of food and water — I had worked up an appetite thanks to all the running around in the past hour or so. Needless to say, sustenance was nowhere to be found.

Apparently the airport had been cordoned off for a while now and supplies were dwindling fast. Whatever little they had left was only being given to people who really needed it — like those who were sick or had infants or were old.

Desperate times, more often than not, call for desperate measures. So I did what I had to do to get bottled water: I bribed a salesperson and what would normally cost Rs20 ended up costing me Rs100. I was advised to go to a corner and drink it where no one would see me. Little did I know that should have been the least of my worries, because soon enough, the inevitable happened: the flight had been delayed because of ‘operational problems’. It was now scheduled to leave at 3.45am.

The limbo, it seemed, was never-ending. I was tired and hungry and was cursing myself for not listening to the infinite voices of reason who had advised me to stay put in Islamabad. After what seemed like an eternity, we were told to board the plane at 4.00am.

Someone had finally put an end to the collective misery of over a hundred passengers. Nothing, however, seemed as haunting as the scene from the plane window after take off – my city was shrouded in darkness, almost as if predicting the terror that would rear its ugly head in the morning.