The Hijack On August 13th

Records show that the IC flight leaving from Mumbai (dep. 05:30) to Trivandrum (arr. 09:00) via Kochi on August 13th had: 9 crew members and 148 passengers (with 34 foreigners of non-Indian origin). Only 6 of those 157 knew that they might not see another sunrise.

The flight was on time. Since August 10th, security check started 2.5 hours before the flight, 30 minutes earlier than usual. There were more officers on duty and the inspection of baggage and persons seemed to be more thorough.

A mother of two was heard complaining, “Do I look the type who would blast a plane?” An officer replied without expression, “I do not know the type, madam. Sorry for the inconvenience.” The mother muttered, “Sorry – these kids…” and went to collect her screened baggage.

At the departure gate, the situation was normal – chaotic with multiple queues, the harried officials, the important crew, the hyperactive kids, the tired, the clean-and-fresh, the noisy, the grumpy, the walkers, the slouchers, the ones-with-at-least-three-newspapers, the old and energetic, the old and wheel-chaired, the-ones-who-Q-for-every-announcement – everything as usual. Any one of them, apart from the kids probably, could be a terrorist or an accomplice.

After security check, a passenger can visit the restrooms, the refreshment and book shops, the various departure gates and the lounges, the areas under maintenance and take multiple routes via stairs, lifts or escalators. After crossing the last security officer at the gate and till a passenger or a crew member reaches his or her place in the plane, it is possible for him or her to be in close proximity with airline officials, bus drivers, grounds-men, cleaning staff and other possibly-screened persons who walk near the gate or the plane. For a non-expert, it seems like a nightmare to ensure security.

At 5:45, the plane got ready to move. The doors were closed; the passengers were seated, buckled and requested to switch off electronic devices; and, the crew was about to begin with the safety precautions.

In the first class section, a tall, elegant and well-suited man of about 30 got up from his seat. An airhostess immediately came to his side to request him to remain seated. He leaned forward and whispered to her, “I am wearing a bomb…take me to the pilot now…do as I say...”

The young airhostess felt weak and nervous. What could she do but take him to the cockpit? The man entered the cockpit with the airhostess and he addressed the crew in a clear well-educated tone without over-emphasis or harshness, “I am wearing a bomb…listen carefully…I am not going to repeat.”

The Captain and his two colleagues there, with a total of 60 years experience, had dreaded such a situation, especially since 9/11. If the terrorist had waved a gun at them or looked like how terrorists are supposed to look like, the Captain or his colleagues might have decided to call it a bluff and tried their luck in overpowering the man. But here, with this man, they didn’t want to take any chances. In fact, they felt that there were no chances left and that it was just a matter of time and convenience for the terrorists. But, even when you face Death, you hope He is on his way to face another, don’t you?

The terrorist continued with his instructions, “Tell Control room that the plane has been hijacked and that a bomb is ready to explode. Tell them that you have to park in the space at the east end of the airport – next to the slums. Tell them that you are moving now and tell them not to cause any kind of delay. Then, switch off that link.”

The Captain followed the man’s instructions. Control room tried to ask for details but he switched off.

“Now, address the passengers. Tell them that the plane has been hijacked. Tell them that my men, who are also wearing bombs, will be collecting every mobile, wallet and handbag. Tell them not to move and to be quiet, very quiet. Tell them to keep all windows closed. If anyone does not follow these instructions, everyone dies at once.”

You can imagine how 150 people in a confined situation would react to this. But, when 4 men with guns – 1 more in first class, 1 in the front of economy class and 2 at the back – stood up and looked around, it is difficult to describe the shock and fear in each face, the total silence and the state of paralysis. The 4 men were young and tough. They looked like successful professionals. Three were in casual formals and only one wore jeans and sported an unshaven look. The 4 men quietly went about the business of collecting all the mobile phones and other stuff. It took them less than 5 minutes.

In those 5 minutes, two events happened.

It is human to be reckless and stupid. The college student on seat 12B sent out a nervous SMS, “hi jak hlp pls” to his dad. For the student, it was not at all a lucky day. When he looked up, he saw the unshaven terrorist looking down at him. The latter took the mobile from him, looked at the message and smashed the butt of the gun against the boy’s nose and mouth, shattering bones and teeth. The terrorist then pointed the gun at the boy’s forehead and said, “Do not even cry.” The SMS message did not bring help but it reached the media in 30 minutes. The terrorists had expected such a ‘leak’. In fact, their ‘man on the ground’ would also take care of that important step, not leaving news to chance.

The second event was occurring outside. As soon as the Control room received the Captain’s call, a commando unit and its supporting logistics unit got into action. The latter was the first in action, clearing all personnel from that part of the airport, putting up screens, surveillance systems and also increasing intelligence officers to go through video footage of the last one hour. Under the cover of those screens, apparent confusion and early morning light, four commandos ‘attached’ themselves to the plane – two under the wings, two beneath the front door, mostly on the left side. Intelligence had informed them that the plane might park at the east end with its right side towards the slums – that is, towards the outside world and the cameras of the media. The commandos risked being seen by some unknown ‘man on the ground’. But, this was the only chance for them to ‘stick’ to the plane before it moved to the open area. The commandos now had to wait for some opportunity, if any, and for more information.

Known to them, there were only two sources of information. Since August 10th, every flight to destinations frequented by foreigners had two air marshals and usually, the marshals themselves did not know each other. A secret known to more than two people hardly remains a secret, does it?

The terrorists knew that there were two marshals on-board though they did not their identity. It is mainly to ferret out such people that they plant specially trained people among the civilians, and they refer to them as the ‘eyes’. The ‘eyes’ at times have a more deadly function – to choose the right moment and to be the detonator.

While collecting the mobiles and personal stuff, the terrorists also got a slip of paper from the last row on the right with the message, “(1) 17E. (2) TBC.” (note: TBC – to be confirmed)

One of those 4 young terrorists walked casually from the back to row 17 and shot the young man in seat 17E from behind, at the base of the skull killing immediately. There were some screams and cries but when the 4 terrorists raised their guns, silence was restored. The shooter retrieved the dead marshal’s gun and a transmitter attached beneath the collar of the shirt.

The other marshal – still TBC – was on seat 24C and before the killing he had seen the terrorist reading the message near the last row. He was on the lookout for the ‘eyes’ and desperate to relay that information to Intelligence.

The marshal was inconspicuous, in ordinary dress of checked shirt-pant-black Bata shoes, looked like a lower-middle-class Malayalee returning to his family from the Middle-east.

On seat 24B, next to the marshal, the passenger was an ordinary man named Aneesh – around 40, graying, old athletic body with muscles going to fat carelessly, beginnings of a pot belly, spectacled, in ordinary dress too.

Aneesh had been wondering about his neighbour’s mumbling. To Aneesh, it sounded like the man was praying “Daivame kathu kolka…” but in between, he had also heard him say, “one cockpit…two each aisle…one front, one middle, two back…” and again interlaced with prayer, “…eyes…right…last row…tbc”

The marshal must have been looked desperate or when he turned his head to study those in the last row on the right, he must have caught the attention of the ‘eyes’. The marshal too sensed that he might have committed a blunder. He leaned forward as if to tie his laces. Aneesh felt the man slip something into his shoes. The man whispered to Aneesh, “…spy in the last row…right side…find…use this to tell.” Then, he sat up, rested his head backwards, eyes closed, mumbling a prayer.

Aneesh saw one of the terrorists, the guy with the stubble, look towards him or maybe, towards his neighbour. He saw the terrorist give a quick glance to somewhere behind on the right side. The terrorist walked quickly towards row 24, stood in front and shot the marshal in seat 24C between the eyes. When Aneesh was splattered with human stuff, he vomited over himself, drenching his shirt, pants and shoes. The only emotion the terrorist showed was when he looked at Aneesh with disgust. The terrorist proceeded to relieve the dead marshal of his gun. He could not find any transmitter. The terrorist wanted to search Aneesh but he felt squeamish searching Aneesh in that state. He must have also felt that Aneesh was not the kind to carry anything.

The terrorist with the stubble ordered Aneesh to move to the back of the plane. Aneesh looked terrified and with wet squelching shoes, he walked to the back. In the last row on the right, he saw three passengers – an old Muslim man at the window who was also mumbling some prayer, a young man in the middle – who looked like any of these 4 terrorists – lightly holding the old man’s sleeve, and a woman of around 50 or 60. She smiled at him with sweet crinkling eyes, trying to give him courage. She reminded him of his dead grandmother and Aneesh felt like crying.

When Aneesh moved towards the toilet, the terrorist said, “No. Strip here….in the pantry.” Aneesh removed his wet spectacles, shirt, vest and pant. He then retched. The terrorist told him to use the toilet. There Aneesh vomited noisily and violently. He picked up the button-sized transmitter the marshal had slipped into his shoes. To the stinking wet transmitter he whispered, “…last row…right side…old woman…” Then he threw the transmitter into the toilet and flushed the waste. Aneesh tried to wipe his face and body with tissue. The terrorist opened the toilet door and told him to stand outside. Aneesh stood in the pantry, behind a curtain, barefoot and with just his underwear. He sniffed, prayed and kept crying as if with shame, shock or fear.

Meanwhile, the other three terrorists had rearranged the passengers. The 34 foreigners were now sitting together near the right door in the front. The terrorists’ plan was simple. Starting in two hours and stretching over forty-eight hours, they would kill a foreigner every hour or so, and mostly during daytime for better visibility. They would dump the body from the right door, visible to the outside world and especially to the media that would have gathered. If they were attacked at any moment, they would set off the bomb. They hoped for the longer version – from August 13th (8 a.m.) till August 15th (8 a.m.), and then, they would set off the final fireworks for Independence Day.

It was now close to 6:15 a.m. and the plane had taxied to the east end. The commandos ‘attached’ to the plane had already been updated with the information from the marshal and also that from Aneesh. The number of terrorists within troubled them. With six inside, the mission could easily become a failure. To rule out a disaster, they had to avoid any exchange of fire, especially with suicidal bombers. These terrorists sounded like they were not just suicidal fanatics but also professional killers. Ideally, at the time of entry, the commandos wanted to face only 3 or 4 inside. With each minute spent waiting, they knew that the death-count would just increase. They had to provoke some error without triggering off a disaster.

At 6:24 a.m., the tall terrorist in the cockpit saw an armoured van approaching from the left, stopping 100 metres away from the plane. He told the Captain, “Tell Control room to remove that vehicle now…after collecting three bodies: two policemen…and one civilian for which they alone are responsible.”

After that message was delivered, the tall terrorist stepped outside the cockpit and told his colleague in the front area, “Get those two bodies and chuck them out. Bring someone to teach a lesson.”

“Foreigner?”

“No point in wasting them. The media will not be ready. Get someone expendable.”

Noticing Aneesh standing at the far end, the tall man asked, “Who is that?”

“A stinker.”

“Get him.”

The other terrorist went to the pantry at the back, prodded Aneesh with his gun and ordered him to move to the front. Aneesh kept crying, dragging his feet and begging for his life. The other passengers tried to avoid his touch.

Meanwhile, the terrorists had opened the front door on the left and dumped the bodies of the two marshals. The tall terrorist ordered Aneesh to move fast and to stand still at the edge of the door. He wanted the people in the van to observe this man alive for ten or twenty seconds before killing.

At the door, Aneesh wondered whether he should jump to safety. He knew that they would just use him as target practice. Anyway, even if he got away, they would kill one or two or many more. He lowered his head – wondering for how long he could continue to act.

Then, Aneesh saw a commando just below him, ready to swing in. The commando gestured with the thumbs-up sign. Even Aneesh knew that there were too many terrorists well inside the plane. Aneesh shook his head slightly and very briefly as if to say, “Not yet.” The commando replied with a nod, smiled and winked. At that time, unknown to Aneesh, there were two commandos above and one more below.

All this at the door happened in about 5 seconds. Aneesh let his knees crumple as if in a faint. He started to fall inside backwards. The tall terrorist and the one with the stubble jumped forward to grab him, ready to shoot at once, dump and close the door. When they grabbed him, they realized that Aneesh had soiled himself. “Shit!” The tall man exclaimed. It must have been due to that revulsion that the terrorists lost their balance for a moment trying to support Aneesh. This was exactly what Aneesh wanted. With his 84 kg weight and a solid hold on the two terrorists’ clothes; after tightening his shoulder muscles like that for a rugby lunge and tackle; and, with a powerful thrust on the edge, Aneesh jumped forward through the door and into open air carrying the two terrorists along. He heard two loud pops near both his ears and a little later, crash-landing on the tarmac falling on top of the two dead terrorists. Then, he fainted for real.

Once again, unknown to Aneesh, there had been two snipers in the armoured van. When Aneesh dragged them into open air, the two terrorists were immediately shot multiple times during the fall.

At nearly the same time, the 4 commandos entered inside in a flash and killed the 3 terrorists with two shots each. The old lady in the last row had also been fatally hit on the forehead seemingly by a stray bullet. Apart from the marshals, the old lady was supposed to be the collateral damage.

Much later, Aneesh was still in the V.I.P. lounge. He had had a much-needed shower and he was given a T-shirt, a pair of trousers and new underwear – all possibly from the airport shop. He had been debriefed. Initially, the officials were even suspicious of him:

- What is your name?
- Aneesh.
- Surname?
- None.
- Nationality?
- Indian.
- Which state do you belong to?
- I don’t know.
- Which language do you speak?
- English.
- I repeat, are you Indian?
- Ain’t I?

At that point, a senior ranked person of the armed forces entered the room and interrupted the interview. He came to the interview table. Aneesh tried to get up despite feeling very tired. The officer said, “Thank you, sir, and that’s from my entire commando unit. I have just one question. How did you know that it was the old woman?”

“The old woman was smiling a bit too well at that time.” Aneesh replied reluctantly.

Aneesh kept quiet for a while and then asked, “Sir, is it possible not to reveal my bit?”

The officer smiled and nodded and left. The interview then proceeded more smoothly.

After that, there in the V.I.P. lounge, Aneesh watched news on TV – some passengers were being interviewed:

“Did you at any moment think that you would die?”

“Die? No. We are proud and brave Indians – we would have fought like tigers. We are fighters till the end – we will survive anything.”

“Did you notice how the commandos shot the old woman?”

“Oh yes, they should get better training. I am planning to bring it to the attention of civil rights groups.”

“What was the worst moment?”

“There was this man – a cry baby. Oh God, he was pathetic. Did the terrorists kill him? To tell you the truth, we hoped they would kill him – such a disgusting fellow and definitely unworthy to be an Indian.”

Aneesh remembered his question to the interviewer, “Will I be hounded by the media?”

The quick reply was “Why would they? For them, you are not even a dead coward.”



Disclaimer: This is fiction.