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Archive for category Pakistan Security and Defence: Enemy & Threats (Internal & External)






PAF and the three wars
Columnist SOBIA NISAR goes over the three wars fought by the PAF.

The Father of the Nation rightly remarked on 13 April 1948, while addressing a small band of enthusiastic airmen at the fledging nation’s Air Force Flying School:

A country without a strong Air Force is at the mercy of any aggressor; Pakistan must build up her airforce as quickly as possible. It must be an efficient air force, second to none.

The table below gives an idea of the number of aircraft allotted to Pakistan and the number initially given.:

Aircraft RIAF Total Holding Allotted to India Delivered to Pakistan
Dakota 78 46 4
Tempest 158 123 16
Harvard 118 89
Tiger Moth 78 62 7
Auster 28 18

The Founder of Pakistan, Quaid-i-Azam Mohammad Ali Jinnah was very well aware of the great importance of the Air Force for the defence of the country. He, therefore, wanted  a strong Air Force to be built up, which was to be second to none. This was done against great odds at the time of partition of the sub-continent, when the Pakistan Air Force came into being on 14 August 1947 along with the Army and the Navy. The PAF after undergoing immense struggle and sacrifice  with a small number of personnel, possessing  an insufficient equipment  emerged into a powerful component of the country’s defence  into a brief period of 10 years. At the time of partition, India  deprived Pakistan of her due share of aircraft and equipment.

Limited War of 1947. These aircraft were quickly organized into two squadrons (No.5 and No.9). While the Air Force was being organized, the armed struggle in Kashmir started  in December 1947. In 1947 and 1948 the IAF provided direct support to the Indian Army, bombed Murree, attacked the Kohala Bridge several times and an unarmed PAF  transport. The PAF role in Kashmir was transport support there was an urgent need  to drop air supplies for the civilian population of Gilgit and other areas of Gilgit. This was  arranged on a priority basis by the two Dakota aircraft, later another two were added. In 1948, two four engine Halifax bombers were also acquired for airdrops. During 12 months of emergency airdrop operations the PAF did not lose a single aircraft. 437 sorties had been flown and over a million lbs of supplies dropped at Bunji, Sikardu, Gilgit and Chilas. Despite the IAF fighter activity, the PAF  continued air transport operations but limited them to moonlit nights. Our fighters remained employed on “watch  and ward” in the NWFP. An unarmed Fury while engaged in leaflet dropping over a hostile area, was fired upon with a light machine gun. The aircraft sustained some damage but the pilot landed safely at Miranshah, where he quickly took another Fury, this one bristling with weapons and went back to even the score in another sequence — Exemplary action — the RPAF — flew 139 sorties in which 72 bombs, 108 rockets and 4,600 rounds of 20mm ammunition were expanded. The 500-lb high explosive bombs proved useful against mountain hideouts and mudhouses. This employment was termed as heaven on earth. The PAF was  a circus outfit and it performed many air displays, always very good ones. During the 1948 Kashmir war, the strength of Pakistan Air Force as compared to the Indian Air Force was as under:

Aircraft India Pakistan
Tempest 68 16
Dakota 30 8
Harvard 60 20
Tiger Moth 40 10
Vampire 6 _
Liberator 4 _
Spitfire 13 _

The Air Force role was defined rightly by the Air Vice-Marshal R.L.R Atcherley when he took over the command of the PAF. He said: The sole preoccupation of every individual in this Air Force, no matter in what sphere of activity he finds himself, is to keep our aircraft flying, ready to fight, equipped and trained for war, down to the last detail.

The Air Force was already going along a well-conceived plan. The target given for March 31, 1948 was for two fighter bomber squadrons of 16 aircraft, one transport squadron of five aircraft and one air observation post (AOP) flight of four aircraft. Gradually the Air Force expanded in the air and also made a progress in the ground facilities. In August 1951, three jet fighter aircraft were assimilated into No. 11 Squadron. With their induction, the young PAF entered into the jet age

Air Vice Marshal Atcherley was of the firm opinion  that the Pakistan Air Force should first take on the enemy Air Force, and then try to isolate the battlefield and after that give direct support to the ground  forces. By 1959/60 the PAF was fully trained and competent in the use of its aircraft. The first conflict between the IAF and the PAF took place on Eid day April 10, 1959, when an Indian Air Force Canberra (R.P) entered Pakistan’s airspace  flying at over 50,000 ft, well above our newly acquired  F-86 Sabre aircraft’s capability. But the Indian Canberra was shot down by the sustained effort of the enthusiastic Pakistan Air Force. In 1959, the last, all PAF exercise “JANUS” was held. Little or no training was conducted with the Army and Navy. The PAF did train with the USAF, RAF, Turkish and Iranian Air Forces who visited Pakistan regularly. Watch and ward  continued in Dir, Bajaur, Kalat and the downing of the IAF Photo Recce (PR) Canberra were added to the PAF’s battle honours.

A strong Air Force that was built up with the hard work and dedication of its officers and airmen helped to defend the country in the two major wars with India. Pakistan had a  much smaller Air Force, yet it was able to dominate the much larger Air Force of our adversary.

The 1965 War. When war broke up in 1965, the Pakistan Army was deployed against the Indians in the Rann of Kutch. To make matters worse, the Pakistani C-in-C was in Bangkok attending a SEATO meeting. In addition, we had three war plans, war against India, war against Afghanistan and the third war against both India and  Afghanistan. The alert phase was also — ’total’, either you were on peace or on full alert. The war plans had no provision for limited action. There was a great demand for security, since the previous Director Plans had been court-martialled, and some of the officers were summarily retired. At this crucial time,   the PAF was able to put  down the much larger Indian Air Force  on the defensive and gained air superiority in four days. It inflicted heavy unacceptable casuallities on the Indian tanks, vehicles and troops. A newspaper wrote:

The performance of the PAF was excellent  as they gained complete victory in the air. The IAF was defeated in all spheres — man to man, machine to machine, mission to mission and sector to sector.

Towards the middle of August 1965, the Army sent an SOS that the Gibralter Force was in trouble and required immediate air drops of food and ammunition. It was decided that  a C130 carry out a night drop. The weather was terrible, rain, low clouds yet the mission flew and satisfactory results were achieved. Air Force Forward Headquarters were activated on 30th August. According to Asghar Khan: “It is true that the PAF’s primary role, in essence, is to assist the Army in every possible way to achieve its objectives. But in order to be able to do this the PAF must achieve a high degree of air superiority over the land battle areas, and it must be equipped to do this effectively. The Army seldom understood or recognized this precondition.”

The Air Force according to the war plan attacked the IAF forward bases on the opening day of the war in West Pakistan. Air action in East Pakistan was delayed to the second  day since  a dusk strike was anticipated. The plan included a single F104 conducting  a “recce” over Halwara, followed by F86s, attacking “guns only” Halwara, Adampur, Pathankot and the various forward radars in the north, with T33s in the South, followed by all available B57’s after sunset.

After attacking the Indians on the 6th, the Air Force expected retaliation by the IAF on the 7th. No effort was made to launch dawn strikes, instead the PAF requested  the Army to launch paratroopers against the IAF forward bases on the night 6/ 7th. Three companies of SSG were launched.

The decision to launch SSG Special Service Group was taken late on the 6th; they left without maps, proper briefing and worst of all with no planning or preparation! The results were disastrous, only a handful returned, most of them were captured or killed. Every PAF base in Pakistan experienced  Indian commando attacks and in their defence thousands of rounds of small arms ammunition was expended at imaginary commandos and the SSG were summoned to save Sargodha.

The operational statistics for 1965 are as under:

  Sorties % Effort
Air Defence 1,303 55%
Army / Navy 647 27%
Day Strike 100 4%
Night Strike 165 7%
Photo / Recce 148 6%

To attack the close concentration  of enemy airfields in the north, and to remain out of reach of the Indian  fighter bombers; the bomber wing remained on the hop throughout the war. The pattern often repeated  was to set off from home base, strike inside Indian territory, recover  to another base  to rearm and refuel, and then to strike again before returning to base or to another safe airfield. This enabled them to  be prepared to attack  their targets night after night. By arriving over their targets  in a stream at intervals of about fifteen minutes, the B-57 certainly succeeded, disregarding even the actual damage they inflicted, in achieving  a major disruption of the overall IAF  effort, disabling their optimum attack capability the next morning. The effect on morale of the IAF  personnel was devastating. The effect of fatigue caused to them was most pronounced  on their air and ground crew while they were forced to keep shuttling in  and out of air raid shelters and trenches. This made the task of PAF fighter pilots that much easier to fight them in air the next morning.

Of its 22 B57s, which fought the war PAF lost three, only one due to enemy action. After the first strike on Jamnagar at 6pm, the bombing shuttle was maintained all night by single sorties. One such lone bomber flown by squadron leaders Shabbir Alam Siddiqui and Alam Qureshi, the navigator was doing its third mission  in less than 9 hours. As an overfatigued crew descended lower on the pinpoint its target, the bomber hit the ground and exploded. The second bomber was lost as a result  of enemy anti-aircraft fire on 14th September. The third B57, piloted by Flight Lieutenants MA Butt  and ASZ Khalid was lost in the early hours  of 17th September. While making an approach to land at Risalpur, the B57 encountered adverse weather in the shape of strong wind sheer coupled  with reduced flight visibility. Unable to maintain height, the aircraft crashed south of the runway, instantly killing  both pilot and navigator.

The PAF’s B57 campaign came to an end with a close support mission during the night of 22nd September by four B57s which dropped 28,000 lbs of bombs on enemy artillery and tank concentrations at Atari. Large enemy reinforcements had been seen that day moving towards Atari for a possible assault on the salient eastern bank of  the BRB canal. It was the task of the PAF to prevent these reinforcements from reaching their destination. The bombs from the B57s dropped in train  engulfed the enemy armour and other vehicles concealed under the trees and in the bushes. Very few survived to reach Atari.

After the 1965 war, the B57 Squadrons trained hard to achieve even higher standards in the light of lessons learned in the war.

After the end of the 1965 war, the United States placed an embargo on our purchase of new equipment. New aircraft of Chinese (MIG-19) and French (Mirage) origin were inducted into the Air Force and quickly integrated.

The 1971 War. During the 1971 Indo-Pak war, the Pakistan Air Force put up a gallant flight destroying and damaging over 150 Indian aircraft. The Indian Air Force which was at that time expanded to become the fifth largest Air Force in the world was prevented from gaining any form of superiority over Pakistan’s airspace, even after shifting the air element operating against East Pakistan to support operations against West Pakistan, when the Dhaka airstrip had been permanently put down of action. Perhaps this was the main reason why India did not pursue her land operations against West Pakistan after the fall of Dhaka, although the Indian desire was to finish both wings of Pakistan.

The B57 force of PAF gave its very best in 1971 war. Of the available strength of 16 B57s  at the outset of the war, 15 were launched the very first night as a follow up to the pre-emptive strike on the 3rd December. 12 IAF runways were targeted the first night and a total of 183 bombs were dropped. Although no immediate assessment of the damage was available, yet confirmation came much after the war  from a very unlikely source. Air Chief Marshall PC Lal, the Chief of IAF during the 1971 war, in his memoirs titled My Days with the IAF  provides full detail of the destruction caused by PAF, naming every IAF  airfield attacked.

The PAF’s night bombing campaign was continued with good effect throughout the war  and reflected great credit upon the courage and perseverance of the B57 crew, six of whom embraced Shahadat over enemy airfields.

A serious situation developed in the South when Indian ground forces penetrated along the Khokhrapar-Chor railway line upto Umerkot and Chachro and to Nagar Parkar itself. PAF was called upon to blunt its attack and prevent the enemy further advance in land. B57 from No 7 Squadron were also pressed into daring daylight raids to save Hyderabad from falling into enemy hands. F86s  and F104s provided top cover. The armed reconnaissance and interdiction mission achieved the destruction of enemy trains and this virtually choked the flow of supplies vital to the enemy advance. Emboldened by their success, the B57 crew followed their bombing attacks by several strafing runs on the freight wagons and stopped the enemy dead in his tracks forcing him to abandon his planned offensive.

The PAF provided air support to the Navy at Karachi, on a report from a PIA aircraft flying reconnaissance for the Navy, the morning CAP (combat air patrol) at Masroor was asked to investigate, the result was that the PNS Zulfiqar took 900 hits of point 5 inch ammo killing several officers and men, with many more injured.

The operating statistics of 1971 war  are as under:

  Sorties % Effort
Air Defence 1,748 58%
Army/Navy support 951 32%
Day Strike 160 5%
Night Strike 130 4%
Photo/ Recce 38 1%

PAF, however, did recognize the services of its bomber crew in both the wars. As a tribute to PAF’s B57 crew who valiantly faced the highest loss rate of the war and persisted doggedly each night, and its navigators who, despite their rudimentary bomb  aiming devices and  the difficulty of map reading at low level on pitch dark nights, carried the war deep into the enemy’s heartland. The Government of Pakistan awarded 15 Sitara-e-Jurrats (6 posthumous) and 2 posthumous Tamgha-e-Jurrats to B57 pilots and navigators.

Recommendations for the Future. India continues to enlarge her Armed Forces by purchasing and producing new equipment  possessing the latest technology available at home and abroad. This is most dangerous for us as India’s overall aim of destroying Pakistan as an independent entity remains. In this regional scenario, the Pakistan Air Force is getting a bit out of date, urgently requiring the induction of new aircraft. The Pakistani nation must know  that if we want a strong and viable defence, we should be prepared to pay for it. The requirements of the Air Force are urgent and genuine and must be catered for by those who are in power and for those who are in the government responsible for the nation’s defence and well-being. The Pakistani government and nation must locate and expose those elements home and abroad who make endless efforts to see that our defence capability is slowly eroded.

Historically, the PAF except for a very short period in 1965, performed well below the required. It is a relatively small force, the support that it can provide to the Army and Navy must be its main role. But unfortunately, the PAF has not  been provided with such assistance as necessarily required. Because the PAF role remains a debate. It should assist the Army and the Navy and not fight its own war. Whereas, the three services must fight the same war and not their own separate battles.

For the last few years there is a debate on buying  a very expensive weapons system for the Air Force because of the “Fighter Gap”. It is also being debated that whether this system to be used to defend the fighter establishment, defend Pakistan or just another gimmick for the kickbacks. According to a report, India had as many as 232 high tech aircraft as opposed to the 32 F16s of the Pakistan Air Force. Since the role of the PAF is a pivotal one, Pakistan must do something as the Air Force was losing  some seven to eight aircraft every year on account of  phasing out and partly because of attrition. According to Air Chief Marshall Pervaiz Mehdi Qureshi, “The growing  technological disparity between the Indian and Pakistan Air Forces has now assumed “acute proportions”. Referring to the addition of sophisticated aircraft to the IAF and the inability of the PAF to come up with a matching response, Air Marshall Mehdi Qureshi said: “If this widening technological disparity between India and Pakistan is not plugged or narrowed down within the next 36 to 48 months, it would pose a direct threat to national security”. Perhaps this could be called a ‘Fighter Gap’. As the “Fighter Gap” does not relate to technology and numerical disparity but to the organization, employment and training. Therefore, it should be seriously taken into consideration by the higher authorities.

The absolute necessity for the PAF is to concentrate mainly on the destruction of the enemy tanks and to cause damage to the enemy’s capabilities and to provide direct as well as indirect support to its  Armed  Forces.

The small Pakistan Air Force should be trained primarily for the support of the Pakistani Army, Navy and  it should be equipped to come up with this task with suitable aircraft. The Army/Air and the Navy/Air cooperation should be perfected, especially as regards to recce, the production of the airpower enhancement and the direct support of the Air Force conjunction with Artillery should be directed in the destruction of the enemy tanks. The direct tactical support of the Army attacks on enemy’s ammunition and supply convoys should be studied.

Historical factors reveal that  the Pakistan Army has shown concern and assistance in the development of  the Pakistan Air Force on the right line.

With the arrival of American equipment the PAF entered into an important phase in its development. It is often not appreciated that reasonably modern equipment is essential for all the three companies of the Armed Forces, but for the Air Force it is absolutely vital.

In the recent years, however, there  has been a weakening of our governments resolve to adequately strengthen the Pakistan Air Force, as the Quaid had directed. If the present policy continues it will place the country  “at the mercy of an aggressor”. as the Quaid had rightly said. In our case the aggressor is  our neighbour India with whom we have fought three wars and two border conflicts short of war. An immense shooting war continues at present  in Kashmir where the troops are deployed  since the last more than 50 years on both sides of the ceasefire line or LOC (Line of Control) and also in the Siachin Glacier area  which is the world’s highest and most destructive battle ground. Only after 24 years of its independence, India split Pakistan  into two pieces by use of force, while the UN watched in silence. The freedom struggle of the poor Kashmiris continues even today. Kashmiris are being raped, killed, tortured while the world community watches in silence. At this crucial time when the fate of Kashmiris remains undecided, can we afford to lower our guards under the circumstances is the burning question of the day. The answer is obviously NO. Therefore, Pakistan must continue her efforts to build up her Air Force whether equipment, manpower, aircraft as quickly as possible in order to lower the already existing FIGHTER GAP between Pakistan and her biggest and numerically much larger adversary, India.

The Pakistan Air Force

Columnist SOBIA NISAR looks at the development of PAF.

On 13 April 1948, the Father of the Nation, while addressing a small band of enthusiastic airmen at the fledging nation’s AirForce Flying School, delivered the following historic message:

A country without a strong Airforce is at the mercy of any aggressor;

Pakistan must build up her Airforce as quickly as possible. It must be an efficient airforce, second to none.

Exactly forty nine years later, Air Marshall (Retd) Asghar Khan who as Officer Commanding, Royal Pakistan Airforce Flying Training School spoke as the Chief Guest at the Golden Jubilee Parade of the PAF Academy, Risalpur, said:

It goes to the credit of the Pakistan Airforce that it took the Quaid’s words with a heroic spirit, and has since lived up to its expectations. The PAF is known today, as it was then, for its discipline and professional competence. It has acquired itself with credit in both the wars in which it was called upon to participate. Remember the present conditions require you not only to be “second to none” as the Quaid commanded you, but with the odds so heavily against you today, you must be far more competent than any possible adversary in the difficult and exacting field in which it is your privilege to serve, Pakistan must not be as the  Quaid had said, ‘at the mercy of any aggressor’.

The strength of  the Pakistan Air Force to be raised and maintained is decided by the Government keeping in view the external threat  that the country faces or is likely to face in the near future. The level of PAF to be raised and maintained must always be  in accordance with the threat to the country’s security and the task allotted to the PAF.  The size of PAF and its arms and equipment must be such as to facilitate their working successfully achieving the mission given to them by the government . The PAF  must always be given a reasonable chance of success while combating against an external aggressor.

The personnel taken into the PAF have to be of an appropriate mental and physical standard who can take the stress and strain of PAF life which trains them for combat.

Qualities of PAF Personnel.

The PAF Personnel must possess plenty of intelligence, initiative and a quick mind to arrive at the correct decision and in time, under the stress of combat in the fog of war. It is of utmost importance that a PAF officer, airman possesses intellect, patience and courage to cater for all eventualities in war including the unexpected enemy moving in combat. What is eventually required of a PAF officer is energy, firmness, staunchness strength of mind and character.

Some of the qualities that are required in a PAF personnel are deduced from experience of combat conditions and are considered essential for success in war under the trying conditions of considerable mental and  physical stress and strain.            `

The Pakistan Air Force makes an effort to recruit such men after exhaustive tests and interviews from amongst the volunteers who come forward. In return for a hard,dedicated and austere life the PAF can only offer  them the glitter of a uniform and honour of serving the nation. Financial compensation has never been within the domain of soldiering .

Having joined the Pakistan Air Force, they have to be trained individually and collectively before they can perform their primary task of defending the nation against any external aggressor. In the basic training period  and after that throughout the years, the process of learning continues. New skills are acquired and old ones brought up to date. Training is a full time commitment with the aim of producing  combat ready soldiers prepared to come forward to protect the nation in the hour of need.

According to Clausewitz, “The soldier is levied, clothed, armed, exercised, he sleeps, eats, drinks, and marches, all merely to fight at the right time and place.”

To perform the primary role of defending the country, the Air force has to be raised, trained and provided the best tools and prepared for combat  at all times.

When the PAF airman and officers have been selected  with due care and caution, given proper training and equipped with the best weapons the country can afford, the country acquires an Air Force of excellent proportions.

Role played by PAF.

The Air Force is ready at all times to defend the security and independence of the country by ensuring the safety of its borders against overt and covert external aggression. To accomplish its task successfully the Air Force must have the wholehearted and unflinching support of the whole population and at all times because the Army and Air Force have  the prime responsibilities in restoring law and order in the country or a particular area where a grave and alarming situation develops which cannot adequately be controlled by the civil agencies being beyond their competence. Along with the Army, the Air Force must always be more frequently called out to help during natural calamities and man-made disasters, such as floods, earthquakes, train accidents, anti-locust operations and any other public emergency. Being a disciplined force, which is well organized with mobility and communications it can be mustered immediately and can be depended upon to carry out any mission given to it, promptly and successfully in the shortest possible time.

Importance and Essentiality.

For good or ill,  air mastery is today the supreme expression of the entire military power. Navy fleets and Army, however necessary and important, must be accepted as subordinate ranks. The Pakistan Air Force is a memorable milestone in the march of man.

From World War II onwards in South Asian Sub-continent, Middle East, Korea and Kosovo, we can see air power actively involved in creating air superiority over the battlezones and conduct aero space surveillance and strategic air bombardment. In each one of these theatres, air power has played a convincingly decisive role.

The Armed Forces, especially the Pakistan Air Force have so far displayed a high standard of discipline and character by accepting the dictates of the national constitution. Therefore, it is imperative for the government to take cognizance of the genuine needs of  all the forces especially the Pakistan Air Force and continue to build our conventional capabilities. Amongst all, the Pakistan Air Force which is the arbiter of  any success  in any military conflict must be made as formidable as possible to deliver a decisive punch to its implacable adversary.

Worth mentioning, our biggest enemy has long been deterred from putting its heinous plans against Pakistan into practice because of our highly motivated Pakistan Air Force, regardless of its equipment. Although we are well aware of the shortcomings pertaining to the PAF equipment  and the numerical strength, still the PAF has given a creditable account of itself; whether it be the 1965 war, 1971 war or the tiring Afghan war. The strength of the PAF is such that it can attain  an upper hand on the IAF provided it is equipped with entire morale, physical strength and better equipment and size. The morale of the PAF is very important and high morale comes from operating high weaponry. In  air combat, technology is symbolized by  the quality of aircraft, weapons and other support assets like AWACS and Air Defence Ground Environment (ADGE). It  should be kept in mind that excellent training and motivation of combatants without the vital component of technology will only increase the pain  and agony and prolong to a great extent  and they will be continuously  inflicted with losses  and in the end face with defeat. Thus the PAF has no option but to improve upon its technological base and to buy finished products like advanced weapon systems  and aircraft.

Historical Aspect.

Historically, it  is  seen  that the Pakistan Air Force has been numerically at a disadvantage as compared to its adversary, the Indian Air Force. But when we take the case study of Indo-Pak wars of 1965 and 1971, the Pakistan Air Force has lived upto the Quaid’s expectations.

The professional behaviour of the PAF  has profound political consequences. Traditionally, the PAF officers have not fought primarily  because of an explicit  political ideology. Whereas, the political interests of the typical PAF officer have been intermittent at best. Only at the higher ranks and among its elite members is there a more sustained concern with the political purpose of the PAF establishment. “Honour” is the basis of their belief system

The PAF Honour.

The PAF military honour is both a means and an end. It specifies how an officer and a soldier ought to behave. To be honourable is an objective which is to be achieved by the PAF officer and the airman. When the PAF military honour is effective, its coercive power is considerable, because it continuously directs to a single over riding directive; the professional PAF soldier always fights.

No doubt, is the fact that the PAF honour serves a variety of social and diplomatic motives. It is the rationalization for inertia; it permits others to operate beyond their personal capabilities and capacities. Honour is undoubtedly the binding force of the entire PAF profession. It is supposed to ensure the unique characteristics of the PAF officer which gives a surety to his career commitment. Nevertheless, only a few PAF leaders  are blind to the progressive inability of honour to resolve the strains within the profession. The increased careerist motives of the officer candidates further weakens the importance of honour. But there have been deviations from individuals of high and low positions in the past periods within the corps of PAF officers. They have done much harm to their brother officers  and the PAF itself. Some have gained wide publicity, as the events are few and hence noteworthy. A few have been more minor. But as they have been  more in number, there cumulative effect has been large.

On one hand, the PAF officers’ conceptions of honour, purpose and human nature leads him to assume that he is a standard bearer who embodies the superior virtues of men, yet at the same time he finds it expedient and necessary to present himself as a representative man who is no different from other men and part of the same society. A few PAF officers including those of the highest rank accept the self-image of standard bearer without some degree of uneasiness. This uneasiness has a deeper significance. In that the PAF has learned to accept the political and cultural assumption that men are more alike than different.

Furthermore, the PAF leaders have learned that in seeking to influence the fortunes of their services, and in advising on strategic national defence politics a non-partisan stance is required. The character of the PAF leaders is such that it overcomes the political and financial pressures and hence is directed towards   the unlimited, dutiful and honourable service of their nation.

Political Beliefs.

The political beliefs of the PAF officers are not different from those that operate in civilian society. In fact they are a reflection of the civilian society originated by the recruitment system and by the education and military experiences of a professional career. The changes in political thinking amongst the PAF military elite are a result of a long-term process. Many of the PAF officers are primarily concerned with purely professional and technical matters. But when they increase position in the hierarchy or get promotion, they become increasingly conscious of their political loyalties and preferences. It is seen that within the elite, it has been those men whose unconventional careers have involved them in politico-military assignments who display the most sustained political consciousness. In all professional PAF officers, there is a special gap between private and expressed beliefs because of the rules under which they operate.

Noteworthy, in the last few decades, political attitudes of the PAF have become more representative of those of the larger  society. This has been the result of the changes in the social composition of the military nature of their profession and also because of the increased contact between soldiers and civilians. It is observed that the political beliefs among the PAF personnel  have become more explicit and more elaborate. In this way they have become more “ideological”. Thus it appears that political beliefs of the military have become more ideological during a period in which the political parties have weakened their ideological content.

This change of transfer  from commitments towards a more explicit ideology  relates directly to the strain on the PAF military honour. Since honour is an essential component  of the traditional authority, the growth of rationalism  in the military nature of PAF  means the growth of a critical attitude in the technical and administrative matters and also towards the purposes of ones professions. Thus, each service and each weapon system must develop a philosophy. as the traditional assumptions about the efficacy of violence in the control of international relations no longer seem applicable.

Indo-Pak Wars And First Shaheeds.

Worthwhile mention, in the Pak-India war of 1965, the first 48 hours established the superiority of Pakistan Air Force  over its much larger  and numerically much bigger adversary. The missions which deserve special credit  in addition to  the PAF’s special defence of Sargodha  on the 7 of September are the attacks on Kalaikunda, where No 14 Squadron F-86s from Dhaka destroyed  numerous Canberras lined up on the tarmac; No 19 Squadron’s famous raid on Pathankot in which IAF  Mig-21s and Gnats were caught on the ground and No.5 Squadrons ill-fated strike on Halwara which ended in tragedy but still had far reaching  results.  The supreme sacrifices made by the PAF’s first Shaheeds, Sarfraz Rafiqui and Yunus  culminated in Pakistan

Air Force getting the better of its much  superior adversary. The examples of bravery displayed by the PAF’s first Shaheeds was also acknowledged  by the Indians themselves. Pashpinder Singh  made a comment on the Pakistan Fizaiya  “He (Rafiqui) was given Pakistan’s highest leadership award, the Hilal-e-Jurat  also awarded to the PAF’s chief, Air Marshal Nur Khan. One Hunter was credited to him. Later the PAF base at Shorkot Road was named after him, a fitting tribute to a brave and dedicated young Pakistani.”

Although three participants of the Halwara Strike were awarded Sitara-e-Jurat while Sarfraz Rafiqui Shaheed was also awarded 

Hilal-e-Jurat for his outstanding qualities of Leadership and solidarity.

Challenges faced in the 90’s.

In the decade of 90s the PAF passed through some of the most critical periods in its history. The enforcement of the draconian Pakistan-specific Pressler Amendment and its impact on the operational capabilities of the PAF, the induction of the Chinese F-7s, the Australian Mirages, the K-8 and the Mistral were some of the challenges that the PAF was called upon to face. It had to take tasks that had always been done abroad, build facilities through unconventional means and improvisation to meet the exacting criteria of performance and safety requirements, and generally keep the aircraft flying. This was the challenge that the PAF engineers faced and met with great success. It was possible for them to do so because the new breed of technicians and engineers had been trained to very exacting standards in technologically advanced institutions. In addition, the Airmen’s training in technical trades was revised drastically to enable them to handle the latest technological developments. Training of computers was made  a compulsory part of the syllabus. The College of Aeronautical Engineering (CAE) was equipped with a modern computer laboratory so that it could be used for many purposes like teaching, experiments and Research and Development (R&D). Split level Master of Science programmes were introduced at the CAE in collaboration with the NUST (National University of Sciences and Technology) whereby qualified officers could get their education from recognized foreign universities.

Impacts of Pressler Amendment.

The imposition  of the Pressler embargo hit the Airforce  the hardest because it was deprived of the hi-tech edge of F-16s that it had ordered in large numbers. Besides the air defence ground environment (ADGE) had become old  and needed immediate improvement. At one stage $4 billion for purchase of forty Mirage 2000-V had been negotiated by the government with France, and the PAF was keen to acquire the weapon system though at a lower cost. The PAF wanted to negotiate a reduction in the price tag and the interest payments so that about $750 million could be saved  to upgrade the ADGE. The acquisition of Mirage 2000-V, in the meanwhile, became a controversial issue and was subjected to adverse comments alleging incorrect choice of system, strain on the economy, and involvement of kickbacks. When the change in the government followed both the governments found that the state  of the country’s economy was such that it could not afford the acquisition. Thus the PAF was once again left empty handed without a high tech weapon system. The fact that the Air Force operates in a medium that stretches over both land and sea; and that neither the Army nor the Navy can operate freely unless the skies are safe, seems to have been ignored when it came to distributing the funds available for defence.

Due to the compulsions of circumstances  of Pressler Amendment, the PAF was able to successfully undertake tasks that would have been impossible in the past. Avionics upgrade on the F-7, A-5111, and Mirages, F-16 factory level tasks like ‘OCU’ and ‘Falcon-Up’, F-100 engine  upgrade, F-7  engine overhaul, C-130 PDM, 

T-37 structural life enhancement  programme, major engineering achievements were features of last decade. Another development followed by the Pressler Amendment led in the role played by the Pakistan Aeronautical Complex (PAC) at Kamra as the factories established over there  were expanded and modernized to undertake projects like recovery of Australian Mirages  and the co-production of K-8 aircraft with China, production of Super Mushshak, overhaul of engines of F-16. The decision taken in 1990 to amalgamate the various specialties in Maintenance Branch into one common Engineering Branch did contribute to the remarkable achievements of PAF engineers in the last decade.

Looking at the future.

Looking  beyond the year 2005, the PAF needed something that would meet its needs  for a weapon system of a special category for some twenty years. The PAF wanted aircraft that should not only have the operational configuration of its choice but  that were also free from any threat of embargoes. Another important criterion was that the  aeronautical industry of Pakistan should be actively involved in its manufacture. That is how the idea of the Super-7 was born. The Chinese first approached the PAF in 1992 for the design, development and co-production of the Super-7 which had  a multi-role, lightweight day-night fighter which could be configurated for air superiority  and ground attack roles. A formal agreement was signed  between the PAF and the Chinese in October 1995. An MoU was signed between the two governments in February 1998 and a formal contact in June 1999. It would be about five years before the first batch of the tested aircraft would be available and hopefully would enable the PAF to phase out its fleet of Mirages, F-7s and A-5s.

RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT. It goes without saying that future wars will be won by airforces with superior avionics and electronic warfare systems. The field of EW or Electronic Warfare is very dynamic, constantly demanding innovative countermeasures for each electronic measure taken by the adversary. This demands extensive Research and Development to study the enemy’s capability and to prevent its effective use  in the entire electromagnetic spectrum.

No.606 R&D Wing is involved in the useful exploitation of the RF induction and the development of various viable systems in this field. Some of the major work areas involve securing communications and radars against Electronic Warfare threats and providing electronic and intelligence support to the PAF’s airborne and ground -based systems. No 606 R&D Wing  has contributed extensively in the area of deceptive jamming.

Once the operational EW  (Electronic Warfare system)  has been created, it is also essential that it is put  to effective use. This involves deriving and inculcating essential knowledge among the front line operators both on the system and at conceptual level. No 606 R&D Wing is also involved in the training of personnel in the operational and theoretical aspects of electronic warfare. The unit conducts regular training courses at various levels to increase EW awareness in the PAF. The existing air defence automation system has  remained in use  for the last many years. To ensure its optimum performance, No 118 Software Engineering Depot (SED)  had been carrying out modifications in the automation system software which is huge in size and complexity. This depot has also conducted a number of software feasibility studies, and completed numerous projects using its own resources. This has not only enhanced our capabilities but has also led to huge savings.

CAE. The CAE faculty members having higher degrees in their fields of specialties have tried hard in solving engineering problems related to the PAF and the nation in general. Besides their efforts the students also undertake projects some of which are later developed further.

The PAF legacy continues.

The PAF has maintained its professional image throughout its existence. Officers and men of the PAF are proud inheritors of a legacy of warriors who have left a permanent imprint on history.

In the Afghan war which was a more covert unconventional war restricted by very difficult Rules of Engagement (ROEs).Still the PAF lived up to its reputation by not only bringing down several Soviet and Afghan intruders but deterring them from frequent violations of the border. The PAF also responded with prompt development  when threatened by the Indian exercise “Brasstacks” or when providing cover to the Pakistan’s nuclear installations. Realistic training and exercise have helped the PAF to maintain a qualitative edge over its adversary.

There have been ups and downs for the service during the decades of the 90s. Its finest hour was when it distinguished itself in the Afghan war but its low came when the Pressler restrictions frustrated the PAFs future plans and also forced it to cut down on its operational training. Since the human ingenuity is at its best in situations of pressure, the PAF engineers rose to the occasion and performed tasks that had seemed impossible. The high command succeeded in restricting the damage caused by the Pressler’s restrictions and in keeping the fighting force in good trim. The  frustration of the PAF at the denial of a high-tech combat aircraft notwithstanding, the force was in good form as far as its professional expertise was concerned and would remain at peak readiness whenever called into action.

Thus, one can say that it was one of the most difficult decades since the fledging Royal Pakistan Air Force came into being at the time of independence. But spurred on by its proud heritage as a compact, efficient, and hard hitting force. The proud PAF legacy still continues on. 

“The application of Air Power is now a profession of considerable complexity demanding technological mastery a sense of command, structure, speed, fire, distance and impact in proportions quite different from those applicable on land and sea. Not greater, nor lesser, but different. It demands discrete professionalism which must not be subordinate to the primary interests of another service, that would lead directly to the subordination of airpower itself to the detriment of all services.”

AVM Tony Mason

Air Power,

A Centennial Appraisal

Brasseys, 1994.

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Karachi Crusader – A personal history of a crime-fighter


Karachi Crusader – A personal history of a crime-fighter



1 January 2014

JAMEEL YUSUF IS SMALL AND STURDY and wears his trousers slightly above his waist. Quick on his feet, he has a firm handshake and the general disposition of an economics professor—he wears a trim salt-and-pepper beard and rectangular-rimmed spectacles and peers at you with inquisitive eyes. His gaze, manner and mien do not betray that Yusuf was once one of the toughest characters in a city with a tough reputation. He was Karachi’s Dark Knight.


Yusuf, however, will say, “I’m just a Khoja businessman.” The Khojas are a tight-knit, mostly mercantile community who populate cities from South Asia to East Africa and Canada. Muhammad Ali Jinnah, the urbane founder of Pakistan, was one. Yusuf’s trajectory was rather more traditional: he got into the textile business after graduating from university, manufacturing cones used in spinning units, before venturing into construction. He built one of the first malls in Karachi in the mid 1980s. By the late 1980s, he had become a successful self-made businessman—“Whenever I take up something, I like to do a thorough job,” he said—and middle-aged.


And in the late 1980s, Karachi had become unsettled. The American-funded insurgency in Afghanistan against the USSR had drawn to a close. More than 3.5 million Afghan refugees—the largest population of refugees in the world—had crossed the border into Pakistan. They settled in camps in and around the northern Khyber province, and in and around Karachi. It was a city where Pathans and mostly Urdu-speaking Mohajirs were already at daggers drawn. A fiery Mohajir student leader named Altaf Hussain had used an incident in which a bus driver ran over a student as his launching pad into national politics. With the death of Zia ul-Haq in 1988, democracy had also returned to Pakistan after a decade of military rule.


The general tumult allowed powerful crime syndicates to operate with impunity. According to a university study at the time, “State power has been eclipsed by a ‘parallel government’ composed of heavily armed, organised criminal elements, capable of holding legitimate authorities at bay.” Consequently, like in Mexico then (as in Mexico now, for that matter), kidnapping had become big business. Kidnappers targeted the business community and its families because they fetched substantial ransoms. When ransoms were not met, the victims were murdered. In 1990, there were about 80 reported cases of kidnapping for ransom.


I don’t recall the statistics and don’t need to read the reports. I knew the Karachi of the 1990s. It was a desperate place, a desperate time. I remember how dusk heralded a virtual curfew. If you were on the road, driving, you would slip your watch into your pocket, shed jewellery and skip traffic lights. Burglaries were routine. My grandmother’s house was broken into one night by five men wearing masks, brandishing pistols. Everybody knew not to argue, even the children. It was common knowledge.


It was not common knowledge that in 1989, the governor of Sindh, Fakhruddin Ebrahim, had called for citizens to get involved in the effort to combat the crime epidemic. The objective was to strengthen law enforcement and promote public confidence in the law enforcement agencies. It was a radical idea, a tall order. The police was underpaid, undermanned, and outgunned. There was no facility for fingerprinting, poor ballistic and forensic equipment, and criminal records were in profound disarray. Moreover, many believed the police were complicit in the breakdown of law and order. Several prominent businessmen, including Jameel Yusuf, responded to the governor’s initiative. That August, the Citizens Police Liaison Committee (CPLC) was born.


I met Jameel Yusuf for the first time in 2008, years after he helped found the CPLC, and years since he had slipped quietly out of public consciousness with a quick, mysterious retirement. I wanted to get a sense of the man. It had to do with curiosity, with awe, the fact that he had informed my reality as a denizen of Karachi. I called him from out of the blue and told him so. I was given an appointment in the afternoon at the offices of his most recent business venture at the time, Pakistan’s first vehicle tracking company. Situated in a leafy central canton of the city featuring the Art Deco architecture that was fashionable in the 1960s, the office was a modest, double-storied house manned by private guards and a mobile police unit. Sitting across a broad desk in a windowless room with cabinets and framed pictures of Yusuf with dignitaries, I inquired, over tea and biscuits, So how do you start fighting crime?


Yusuf told me that he and his colleagues raised funds of about Rs 4 lakh (close to $20,000 then, not an insubstantial sum) for improving the conditions at Ferozabad police station in central Karachi. They discovered, for instance, that the station had no gas or water, so they installed gas and water lines. They painted the premises, put up a board for complaints, carved out a reception area, and even constructed a rockery. It was an unusual way of going about things. “Whenever committees are set up,” Yusuf explained in an empathic tenor, “people like to throw their weight around. We didn’t do that.”


 What, I asked, do you do after setting up a rockery? In the beginning, he told me, he volunteered for a few hours, usually in the evenings. But crime-fighting is not like gardening. “It’s like quicksand,” Yusuf said. When I asked him to elaborate, he added, “Look, in this line of work, when somebody wants help, they want it now. The work can’t be deferred.” Soon, he said, he was working 18 hours a day.


Yusuf, however, had no background in criminology, no experience in investigative work, and, from what I understand, no training in what he would become an expert at doing: eliminating kidnapping syndicates. He had to learn on the job. “We were hearing the police, how they’re doing it, listening to what they’re talking about, sharing the information from one abduction to another, trying to see any similarity …” Yusuf was putting two and two together. He learned, for instance, that “voice [recognition] plays a very important part. We made a grouping of the [kidnappers’] voices. We found out one other [crucial] thing. In kidnapping for ransom, the same guys in the gang always negotiated.” It was a steep learning curve—Kidnapping 101—but I got the sense that Yusuf is an instinctively astute observer of human behaviour.


Yusuf also had a fetish for technology. As a young man, for instance, he had travelled to Taiwan to buy state-of-the-art automation technology for his textile manufacturing business, which, he said, was the first of its kind. At the CPLC, he invested in computers, and cameras of the variety that can be installed in pens and lighters. Yusuf told me that he once summoned his son from London in the middle of his university semester to deliver high-tech homing-device technology that he then used to crack a notorious kidnapping ring. “The police used to go from the accused to the scene of crime,” Yusuf said. “Technology lets you go from the scene of the crime to the accused.”


By the mid 1990s, the CPLC had also started to collate data—phone numbers, addresses, number plates, profiles—and soon the organisation developed an extensive database, the first of its kind in Pakistan. In time, the organisation would create databases of vehicles registered in Karachi, FIRs registered in every police station dating back to 1987, and of all prisoners held in Central Jail, dating back to 1990. Having developed a unique capability to investigate crime, the CPLC then parsed the information for clues and connections. This may have been what some imagined when they first answered Fakhruddin Ebrahim’s call—except that Yusuf was not content to sit behind a desk and crunch numbers.


SOMETIME IN 1992, Yusuf recalled, the grandson of a senior official was kidnapped. When the kidnapper called to demand a ransom for the seven-year-old child, his father asked whether the boy had eaten. He was told that the child been offered pizza for dinner but this was little comfort to the family. Nobody in the house slept that night.


Strangely, several days later, the child was released. The kidnappers might have felt the proverbial heat. The official had some influence. The child was brought home, embraced by each family member. It was a scene. Yusuf was also present but he was only interested in one thing: the circumstances of the abduction. Where, he asked for instance, did they say they were taking you? Hyderabad, the boy answered, a city two hours by car from Karachi. Yusuf didn’t buy it. The kidnappers were ensconced in Karachi, he insisted. Why? Because there were no pizza parlours in Hyderabad then.


What did you see when you looked out of the car, Yusuf asked the boy. Houses, bazaars, bridges? In a city of about 12 million then, the largest in Pakistan, and one of the largest in the world, it may not really have mattered what the boy had noticed; there were many houses, hovels and bridges in Karachi. The problem, however, was that the boy had been blindfolded. By the time the child recalled such features of urban topography as he could, from the crunch of gravel to the muezzin’s voice, Yusuf had already decided what to do.


After requisitioning a pair of sniffer dogs from Military Intelligence—the CPLC had, by this time, started to forge relationships with other security agencies—he set off before midnight with the boy, his father and several police patrols. As the convoy approached the neighbourhood where the child was suspected to have been held, headlights and  engines were switched off. Then the dogs were released. Instead of leading the party to the den, however, they loitered. Scratching his head at the scene, Yusuf recalled one critical detail that the boy had mentioned: the call to prayer. When the dogs were taken around the corner, within the general vicinity of a mosque, the pair began to stiffen and bark. They led Yusuf to an empty house. Inside, the child  confirmed everything. This is where I slept. This is where I ate. This is where I played cricket. The kidnappers were apprehended the next day.


Yusuf’s uncanny ability to perceive connections that others couldn’t also helped crack the particularly egregious case of the Mehfil-e-Murtaza murders. Just past five on a cold February morning during Ramzan in 1995, a group of armed men burst into a Shia mosque in north Karachi. Although prayers were over, Yusuf said, they happened upon a funeral party of 16 men. The attackers lined the men up, ordered them to turn their backs, then gunned them down in cold blood. More than 100 rounds were fired. There was blood on the walls, on the floor, on the ceiling. Although there had been some tension between the majority Sunni and minority Shia communities, the Mehfil-e-Murtaza killings were unprecedented. The police had no leads.


Then, a few days later, gunmen entered a nearby house, murdering the men of a Sunni family while the women and children cowered in an adjacent room. The gunmen vociferously proclaimed retaliation for the earlier incident as they departed. The city braced for further retaliations, for civil war. Businesses shut. Traffic stopped. Rangers patrolled the streets. Karachi was on edge.


Enter Jameel Yusuf. He did some basic detective work, and interviewed each set of survivors separately. Two boys had survived the Mehfil-e-Murtaza killings because, Yusuf said, they had been buried beneath fallen bodies, and played dead. When Yusuf asked them to describe the assailants, he was told that one of them had a “round face, [was] well built, short”. The CPLC used this information to build composites, employing new facial recognition software they had recently acquired.


Yusuf proceeded to question the women and children who survived the second attack. Something in their descriptions of the terrorists struck him as vaguely familiar. On a hunch, Yusuf suspected that the killers were the same group, a suspicion that defied sense and the socio-cultural dynamics between any two communities in conflict: Hutu-Tutsi, Israeli-Palestinian, Irish Catholic-Irish Protestant. The historical Shia-Sunni divide had opened into a chasm in Pakistan in the late 1980s. In the event, Yusuf said, “You would never expect them to kill their own people.”


So Yusuf asked the state telephone company to furnish him with the phone records from five in the morning on the day of the Mehfil-e-Murtaza killings, as well as from the time of the later attack. Once he had them, Yusuf compared the two lists and, as expected, he found both shared several numbers, including a few mobile phones. “In those days you didn’t have prepaid phones. It was always ‘postpaid’.” Since mobile phones were not ubiquitous then as they are now, the numbers were not difficult to trace. Within a month, each number was traced, and each assailant apprehended. Yusuf was right. The killers in both attacks were the same: the notorious sectarian terrorist outfit Sipah-e-Sahaba, intent on igniting a civil war.


In retrospect, the case becomes straightforward, open and shut, like the denouement of a Sherlock Holmes mystery. At the time, however, it bewildered the police, the public. How did Yusuf crack the case? “It was just common sense, that’s all, it’s not that complicated. You need IQ, intelligence, and confidence.” Putting two and two together is one thing. Entering criminal dens is another. Over the years, Yusuf began to lead teams into far-flung cantons in the dead of night to rescue victims, adrenaline coursing, Glock cocked. Once, he was shot at, point blank, but the gun jammed. Another time a bullet whizzed past his head, killing a major accompanying him. “I have had very close escapes, very close,” Yusuf told me, poker-faced.


THE CPLC SOON BECAME INDISPENSABLE to law enforcement, and Karachi rallied behind the organisation in a meaningful way. In a 2001 interview, Yusuf recalled how, when the CPLC office was being constructed, donors stepped up:  “Alcop gave us the doors and windows, Dadabhoy gave the cement, the steel companies gave us the steel, the architect was free, [The Association of Builders and Developers] gave us the labour cost, Karam [Ceramics] and [Shabbir Tiles and Ceramics] gave us the tiles … They all contributed and the whole building was ready in no time.”


In time, multinationals like IBM and multilateral organisations like the United Nations Development Fund began to provide funding as well. There was also much interest in replicating the model. Yusuf told one Pakistani website: “Now the United Nations wants to adopt CPLC as well. I have gone to India, they are also interested. They want to establish it in Sri Lanka. I will be invited by the President of Bangladesh soon as they also want to establish it … I receive internees from London who were sent to study and prepare a write-up that what is CPLC and how they can adopt it.”


In addition to busting kidnapping syndicates, the organisation developed police welfare schemes, traffic management schemes, neighbourhood watch programmes, and a police complaint authority. It initiated an arms control policy and an alien registration policy. It even campaigned to build a network of public toilets.  Yusuf’s work began to win him acclaim. He received a Presidential award, the Sitara-e-Shujaat, in 1992; he received something known as the United Nations Civil Society Award in 1999; and he was invited to serve as the director of the Asia Crime Prevention Foundation, a UN non-profit based in Japan.


But Yusuf’s critics were also legion. They included politicians and bureaucrats, police officers, army officers, members of the Khoja community and people within the CPLC itself. They maintained that he was imperious, impatient, self-centred, self-aggrandising. It was said that he was unable to effectively delegate responsibility, and that he failed to effectively institutionalise the CPLC—an accusation that continues to dog the organisation to this day. Some said the CPLC was a one-man show.  “There’s a whole team I developed,” Yusuf said, when I asked him this. “We did many things. One man couldn’t do everything.” That much is indisputable. “Years ago I left CPLC,” Yusuf said. “Why is it still working?”


When I persisted, Yusuf leaned forward and fixed me with bulging brown eyes. Up close, you could discern mirror-image creases etched into his brow, like a severed W. “Yes, I’m a very tough taskmaster,” he said. “I used to tell people we’re doing social work. We’re going to get paid for it. But later on.” He meant in the afterlife. He is a devout man. “If you don’t have the time, let somebody else do it. If I’m going to work 16 hours, 18 hours a day, I would expect my team to be working too. This is serious business you’re talking.”


Yusuf had other, grimmer allegations leveled at him: critics claimed that, like Bruce Wayne, he became like those he put away—that he was fundamentally a vigilante. Those he freed did not care. In a 2003 piece for the monthly magazine Newsline, Sairah Irshad Khan interviewed the brother of a victim who had been kidnapped for 46 days. “We called CPLC the day [my brother] was kidnapped,” this person recalled. “[Yusuf’s] team was with us night and day, counselling us, comforting us … It was amazing how much data they had and how Jameel Yusuf preempted every move the kidnappers made … When we discovered [the] captors’ whereabouts, it was Jameel who personally went to … deal with them and eventually got [my brother] back.”


In this way, I can vouch for Jameel Yusuf as well. The kidnapped seven-year-old who was treated to pizza by his captors is my cousin. At the time, it didn’t really matter to us how he was rescued. We didn’t have the luxury to mull over modalities, intangibles. The child was not a philosophical problem. He was flesh and blood, curly-haired and shy, and one day vanished.


Yusuf’s most dangerous critics were the criminals or the associates of the criminals who had been put away or got away. He routinely received death threats, and told me that his name figured on a hit-list recovered from a random bust. In an interrogation, some gang members admitted that they knew where he lived, when he left for work, when he returned. They had planned to assassinate him the next morning. These were not garden-variety criminals—they were the Sipah-e-Sahaba, the outfit involved in the Mehfil-e-Murtaza killings.


Yusuf told me this, and then said, “It was luck.”


I was astonished to learn that Yusuf’s entire family was on the frontlines. Crouched behind a stalled motorcycle across the street on one occasion, his daughter is known to have shot high-resolution photographs of a kidnapper conducting a ransom transfer. Once, his wife trailed a notorious kidnapper in the dead of night, but things didn’t quite proceed according to plan: after making a couple of superfluous U-turns to determine whether the car behind him was following him, the kidnapper stopped on a deserted stretch and brandished his Kalashnikov. Mercifully, Yusuf’s wife sensed something was awry and drove away at the last minute, escaping certain death.


In the letter conferring the Sitara-e-Shujaat on Yusuf, the  then-governor of Sindh, Mahmoud Haroon, remarked, “[Yusuf] has involved his wife, son and daughters for Surveillance and Photography [sic] to the extent of personally carrying the ransom to the culprits so as to identity them even to the peril of his entire families [sic] lives.”


What, I asked, is it like to live in the shadow of death?


“What can you do, you know … I’m taking it in [my] stride, you know? I’ve got security behind me and all. But I know that the day it’s going to happen, nothing’s going to work.”


Why don’t you leave the country, emigrate?


“What will I do [abroad]? I will die slowly … At least this will be fast.”


He laughed.


BUT IT WAS NOT A BULLET that did Yusuf in. In a way, his decline followed Daniel Pearl’s demise.


The murder and kidnapping of the Wall Street Journal’s South Asia bureau chief in 2002 has featured prominently in popular discourse—from the French playboy-philosopher Bernard-Henri Levy’s shoddy book Who Killed Daniel Pearl? to Michael Winterbottom’s film adaptation of Pearl’s wife Mariane’s memoir, A Mighty Heart, but Yusuf’s role in the investigation remains mostly unacknowledged. In the course of his work, Pearl had come to see Yusuf on several occasions. Not many know that Yusuf may have been the last person to meet Pearl before his abduction.


The two met for the last time on 23 January 2002. When Pearl arrived, they chatted about developments in the region over a cup of tea—in particular, the misconceived Operation Enduring Freedom in neighbouring Afghanistan, and its impact on Pakistan.


For a moment, listening to Yusuf tell me the story, I wondered whether Pearl had sat where I was sitting. Yusuf said that Pearl had been on the trail of a certain Sheikh Mubarak Ali Gilani, who may have been connected to Richard Reid, the infamous “shoe bomber” who had attempted and failed to detonate explosives on a flight between Paris and Miami late in 2001. According to Yusuf, however, Gilani was a red herring, “of no importance, no consequence … There was no bloody connection.” Consequently, Yusuf tried to discourage Pearl.


During their conversation, Yusuf recounted, Pearl received two calls. “I heard him say, ‘Yes I’m very close, I’ll be coming in another half an hour.’” Yusuf, however, did not pay attention to the interruption at the time, and Pearl did not talk to him about his immediate plans. Unbeknownst to Yusuf, Pearl’s local fixer helped him get in touch with an interlocutor for Gilani. This person  had sensed an opportunity. He realised Pearl was willing to bend, if not break, the rules for a meeting with Gilani. Matter-of-factly, Yusuf told me that Pearl had been getting scooped in Pakistan and was desperate for a story.


Randall Bennett, the regional security officer stationed at the US Consulate in Karachi, also cautioned Pearl. “I had never heard of [Gilani] and expressed that concern,” Bennett told the Washington Post in a 2007 interview. Yusuf, who knew Bennett as well, added, “[Bennett] cautioned him that you don’t meet people on the roadside, waysides. You want to meet somebody, you meet them in a hotel lobby. You do your chatting there. It should be done that way.”


The morning after Yusuf’s meeting with Pearl, he woke up to something like 25 missed calls. “I started returning the calls,” he said. “I spoke to Mariane. I had never spoken to her before. She asked if I knew her husband … She asked why had he come to meet me.” When he told her, she told him that her husband had gone missing. The chief of police, Yusuf said, wanted to discuss the same thing. “I told him to take out his [phone record] … Whoever called [while he was sitting with me], he’s gone with him. When the bill came out, it was somebody who had just taken [a new] phone that day. And the identity card looked fake. The moment I saw this, I knew this guy’s in trouble.”


As I squirmed in my seat, Yusuf told me that after about 48 hours, he was invited to “Mariane’s place”. There were “all these people there, American people, police, all jabbering, jabbering, talking, nothing else. They wanted to pick up Gilani. They asked me my assessment … I said it’s no use. There’s no connection. Ask the fixer, but they didn’t listen to me … they kept after Gilani. They picked him up after four, five days. It came out to zero, waste of time. The FBI wouldn’t listen to me.” Yusuf proceeded to do things his way. “We got the number of the fixer, other numbers … within a couple of hours, I came to know some numbers in Lahore which were very good to be tackled, okay?”


By this time, Pearl’s abduction had made the headlines and his people had started to receive “emails … extortions”. Some were obviously fake, demanding solutions to complicated political problems in return for Pearl. The FBI managed to track an email chain that led to three arrests. They “interrogated [one] guy for days and they came up with a completely wrong story and a completely wrong theory. In the ten minutes [that I interviewed him] the whole story changed.” The young man admitted that he met somebody who handed him a CD with images showing Pearl shackled, which were to be dispatched electronically to the media. The problem was that this was the end of the email chain.


“That was the time I got really annoyed,” Yusuf said. “That was 28 or 29 January. Fine, email tracking is one thing. Go ahead and do that. But why are you all concentrating on one thing? Why are you not concentrating on what I’m telling you?”


Yusuf had been telling the authorities to follow a straightforward strategy: track the web of mobile phone connections from the calls that Pearl’s mystery abductors had been making to the authorities. One such connection led to a house in the city of Lahore. The “feedback we got was … very nice, very noble family. They deal in TVs, Sony’s agent. This was the profile of the father”—the father, they would later learn, of a certain Omar Sheikh. Sheikh, was a young British citizen who had gone “rogue” from MI6, been convicted of the attempted 1994 kidnapping of four Western tourists in India, and had been released in 1999 in exchange for the safe conduct of passengers aboard the hijacked flight IC-814. (He was arrested and sentenced to death in 2002 for his complicity in Pearl’s murder, and remains imprisoned awaiting appeal.) At the time, however, nobody put two and two together.


“The image that the people give all over the world,” Yusuf said of Sheikh, “he’s intelligent, smart guy … he spoke English … but I call him a dud, because only two times he’s planned a kidnapping and both times he’s got caught. So you’re damn stupid, yaar.” The mobile phone investigations led to another house in Karachi where police attempted to arrest a man named Amjad Farooqi, who it turned out was integral to the operation in a way that Omar Sheikh was not. In effect, Farooqi was Omar Sheikh’s boss. Tragically, the former escaped; a year later he would be accused of the December 2003 assassination attempt on then-president Pervez Musharraf. (The year after, Farooqi was gunned down by security forces.)


It might seem that Yusuf and the FBI were at cross purposes but, in fact, the FBI used the CPLC offices as its daytime headquarters during the Pearl case. In the evenings, everybody collected at Mariane’s place. Everybody, including the Pakistani army and the police, was working frantically to find Pearl. The end of January was a critical juncture in the investigation. “At this point, had [Farooqi] been caught, maybe Pearl would have been alive … [Or] if Omar Sheikh’s identity [had been discovered] from day one. It was that, that simple.” They were close, but not close enough. As Yusuf related the episode, I kept hoping that the story would change, that Yusuf would say something like, and then we found him. It didn’t happen. By the first week of February, it was too late. Pearl was killed, and the video of his gruesome murder released later in the month.


“This was the first beheading that took place in Karachi,” Yusuf stated. “When the American Consul General came, I told him that it’s an Arab connection.” How so, I asked him? “It’s tribal practice … Arabs believe they are a superior race. There are no Pakistanis on the higher echelons [of these global terrorist organisations].” At no other time might it have been clearer that the CPLC had become an integral part of Karachi’s security establishment. “When [US diplomat] Christina Rocca visited me at the CPLC, she came to thank [us] … The CIA, FBI [were] all with her … They came for half an hour but they stayed for three. They looked at the work we had done. They were fascinated.”

Towards the end of the discussion, he appealed to the team: “I told them that if you want to help us, give us help. We are your partners in [fighting] terrorism.” But after the Americans left, Yusuf said, he began receiving unwanted attention. Rocca spent only an hour with President Musharraf and didn’t spend time with the governor or the chief of police or the serving corps commander. And, according to Yusuf, the corps commander had it in for him. Things had come to a head. The establishment ultimately sided against him. He was ousted from the CPLC in 2003.
“We were always called the blue-eyed boys of the army,” Yusuf recalled. “There were some very good army officers, I must say. There’s no doubt about it. But we didn’t leave the corps commanders alone … [This one corps commander] was corrupt. His nephew was [a police officer]. [Also] corrupt. It requires guts to tell the corps commander that he’s on the take … ”
During our meeting Yusuf had admitted, in passing, a proclivity for putting his foot in his mouth. In a meeting with the then-president Pervez Musharraf, for instance, he spoke bluntly about politically tricky reforms. His suggestions may not have gone down well with the general. The conversation, he said, had probably cost him a provincial cabinet position. Had Yusuf been appointed home minister of Sindh, he might have been able to fundamentally change how things work. “Give me six months to one year,” he told me. “I can make Karachi a zero-crime zone.”
It was seemingly the end of the road for a man who had commanded a certain respect even from the criminals he chased down.  A decade or so ago, Yusuf told me, he had caught a kidnapper, mother and girlfriend in tow. Later, the kidnapper learnt that while he was in police custody, Yusuf had offered his mother and girlfriend dinner and paid for their carriage home, making sure that they were not mistreated by the authorities at any point during the ordeal. Yusuf, the kidnapper said, came after me because I did wrong. I’ve nothing against him. He’s a man of honour.
The late Ardeshir Cowasjee—a bold, cantankerous, Karachi-based Parsi columnist—had a different take on Yusuf’s decline. The serving governor of Sindh, Cowasjee wrote in his column in Dawn, had learnt that his name figured in a CPLC database because an FIR had been registered against him more than a decade ago. The governor summoned members of the organisation to inquire about possible financial irregularities. That same evening, a member named Zubair Habib was “ordered,” Cowasjee wrote, “to go to the CPLC offices, and without informing Yusuf, to lock and seal his room. An order of dismissal was to be sent to Jameel, at his home, later [in the] night.”
I MET YUSUF AFTER HE HAD RETURNED to being “just a Khoja businessman”, toward the tail end of an extended period of amity in the city from about 2000 to 2008. At the turn of the century, Karachi’s per capita homicide rate, on average, was not only lower than that of other megapolises in the developing world—Lagos, Rio, Bombay—but also lower than that of Boston, San Francisco and Seattle. Befuddled foreign correspondents were compelled to preface their dispatches with phrases such as “this once violent city”. The infrastructure of Karachi was transformed by an able, energetic mayor, Syed Mustafa Kamal of the Muttahida Qaumi Movement (MQM), and his team. Cheap credit had also fuelled a consumer boom: the middle class suddenly had access to car leases and housing loans for the first time in their lives. There were music concerts attended by thousands, a thriving electronic media industry. There was traffic on the streets at midnight, at one, people sauntering on the beach at two. The past, it seemed, was squarely behind us. Yusuf, it seemed, had become an anachronism.
But by the time democracy returned in 2008 after a decade’s hiatus, the city had grown unsettled again. There was the dramatic terrorist attack on Benazir Bhutto’s homecoming convoy, in which 139 died and more than 400 were injured. Terrorism, once largely sequestered to the north in the aftermath of the theatrical American misadventure in Afghanistan, had arrived in the south with a bang. It did not help that the two ruling coalition parties, the Pakistan People’s Party and MQM, were often in conflict. It did not help that the home minister of Sindh at the time issued a reported 100,000 arms licenses during his tenure. The per capita homicide rate began creeping up: from a low of about 100 homicides in 2000, the number spiked to about 800 in 2008 and over 2,500 in 2012. By any yardstick, it was a dismal body count. Where, I often wondered, was Jameel Yusuf?
I went to see him at his office for the second time in the autumn of 2013. He had recently been recalled from early retirement by the administration of the newly elected prime minister, Nawaz Sharif, who has introduced initiatives to rid Karachi of violence. Yusuf remembered me immediately and offered tea, but no biscuits. He looked the same—trim beard, spectacles, pant-shirt—and looked busy. After years of being in the wilderness, he was back in action, in an advisory capacity to the government. Because he is the way he is, he has gone about the job with characteristic determination. As the police led raids into “no-go areas” such as Manghopir, Sohrab Goth and Lyari, arresting thousands—the Express Tribune reported last month that ongoing operations had led to 9,944 arrests since 5 September—Yusuf prepared a white paper on how to strengthen the institutional framework that informs law enforcement. Some of his proposals, including the expansion of laws of detention, have already been implemented. Suspects can now be held for up to 90 days.
When I remarked that the law seems draconian, he begged, in a reasonable tenor, to differ. “In many instances,” he said, “police bungle cases as evidence is not gathered, so there’s high acquittal rate, over 90 percent. You need time to build a case: there’s a money trail—what amounts, how many times cash is withdrawn and deposited—tracing car plates, identity cards, recording [witness] statements, and so on. Without this, don’t do it.” There is no doubt that the success of the operation is contingent on convictions as much as arrests—Yusuf, incidentally, has also proposed that courts run two shifts a day—but without transparency and accountability, the process could prove to be disastrous.
Yusuf says that he is championing the setting up of a Public Safety Board. “If somebody feels that if this person has been picked up who is innocent, he needs some place to go to. Where should he go? So, yes, the PM wants that to be done. That’s still in the works. The purpose of this board … is to make sure whatever the rangers and police want, they are getting, that also … are they getting proper intelligence sharing? Are they getting their works done? And what are the time frames? Talking to the businessmen, making sure [extortion] has gone down or not. You need to have some evaluation as well. [It’s] very, very doable.”
Sitting before him in the same place I had sat almost five years earlier, I took some comfort in his words even if gang wars continue to dog Lyari, “target killers” have assassinated a number of Shias in recent years, and the offices of the Express Media Group have been attacked by the Taliban. Yusuf’s plans and proposals are tangible, even if some of the problems the city—the country—face are ontological. I would have liked to chat at length about such matters, but Yusuf doesn’t have time. The first time we met, I spent three days with him. This time around, I spend perhaps half an hour. Before I leave, however, I manage to ask him what he thought could be done about the scourge of terrorism.
“You want to bring them on the negotiating table?” he said. “Believe me, the only way you can bring them on the negotiating table is by starting hanging them. The pressure has to come from their own to come on the table. No other way. No other way.”
When I mentioned that the Left had been up in arms about rescinding the moratorium on hangings imposed by the previous government, while the Taliban had declared hanging convicted terrorists would be tantamount to an act of war, Yusuf snapped, “What is it now? An act of friendship, now? Okay, [they’ve] killed 60,000 people in five years because it’s an act of friendship?” That was an exaggerated figure. “Otherwise would have killed 600,000? Hell with it! It’s war. It is war. See the Jamaat-e-Islami statement.” Jamaat president Munawar Hassan had just said, controversially, that even dogs killed in drone strikes were martyrs. “They’re trying to say a dog is more pious than your [army], you know? I mean it’s madness. Imran Khan is talking out of his hat … ‘Cargo band kar dain ge …’” (Khan was talking of stopping NATO’s land supply routes into Afghanistan). “These are non-issues. Each one is trying to befriend the Taliban. Nobody is trying to befriend the citizens of this country. The problem is that—the sufferers of this country.”
There was not much more to say. I got up and thanked Yusuf for his time. He briskly shook my hand, and got back to work.


HM Naqvi is the award-winning author of Home Boy. He is based in Karachi and is working on his second novel.

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Change of Guard-A Reality Check





Dear Sir ………….

I read with interest the  assessment regarding the next chief. Some of the contenders like Tariq and Haroon have been my students during various stages of their career and one knows them well as also their reputation in the army.

Interestingly the largest analysis you did was on Tariq which itself says something.

As I told you earlier he is the best thing that could happen to the Army…… amongst the young officers he is called ‘Bull dozer’…….

Haroon who was my student on the war course is known as ‘Apa’ (ha ha)………. Not a good nickname for a potential army chief.

I also know all the ‘advisors’ that you have identified (again some I have served with …Qayyum……… and others who have been my students  ….. Qadir and Javed………) and unfortunately I do not grade any of them with an intellect or ability  that would guide them towards making an unbiased recommendation.

God help us all and God help Pakistan.

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Nawaz Sharif’s Maiden Address

Upright Opinion

August 19, 2013

Nawaz Sharif’s Maiden Address

By Saeed Qureshi

 Nawaz Sharif’s first address to the people of Pakistan after his assuming office was earnest and thoughtful. He was somber and spoke with a profound aura of sincerity and a great deal of solemnity. I can feel that Pakistan has finally landed into the stewardship of a leader who is committed to salvage Pakistan from a deep morass and lift it high to the level of a modern state.

 In his nearly an hour long speech the prime minister catalogued all those issues that were in his plate and were passed on to him from what he called a misrule of the past 14 years. He spelled out the strategies of his government to resolve and tackle those ticklish lingering problems.

He dilated at length upon acute electricity mayhem and its disastrous impact upon the country’s economy and the people’s lives. He painted a bleak picture of how ruthlessly the nation building departments and assets were drained and mismanaged that now these have become a liability on the national exchequer to the tune of hundreds of billions of dollars.

 I can draw a comparison between the Nawaz Sharif of yesteryears and the one that has come before us after the 2013 elections. There is a sea change in the mannerism, outlook, attitude and overall personality of Mian Nawaz Sharif. Erstwhile, he used to be volatile, reactive, vengeful, aggressive, ambitious and irritable.

 Now he is kind, compassionate tolerant, understanding, composed and mature. The long tenure in exile and removal from power has brought about a kind of metamorphosis of maturity in him. He doesn’t seem to be power hungry or with a mind frame of sticking to it by hook and by crook and through devious machinations.

 During the past five years, he displayed a marvelous show of great statesmanship when he spurned all temptations and calls for removal of PPP government through non democratic maneuvers. His party opted out of the coalition at the center yet remained simultaneously its silent supporter and critic as what was cynically codenamed as “friendly opposition”. That paid dividends to him in the form of retaking power.

 He is quite conscious that the gigantic goals and formidable challenges that his government is faced with are to be addressed in a limited framework of five years. His mandate and charter of giving a new promising destiny to Pakistan  is comprehensive, ambitious and far reaching that may not be accomplished in that period but hopefully a clear direction and road map would be mounted that can serve as pioneering guide for the future rulers.

 Nawaz Sharif’s call to build consensus among the political parties for rebuilding Pakistan as a modern state should be welcomed and appreciated by opposition parties and all sections of the society. But it appears that the PPP, PTI and ANP would not extend a helping hand to prime minister Nawaz Sharif is his agenda for re-calibrating Pakistan towards prosperity, self reliance and dignity.

I gathered this impression after listening to a follow-up debate on Dunya television channel.  The participants from PTI and ANP manifested their moral dishonesty by bitterly censuring the prime minister for a disappointing speech. One could have given them some saving grace, had they been objective in also appreciating his objectives and plans that he exuded for a glorious future of Pakistan. But to object that why he catalogued and mentioned the blunders and the bad policies of the previous regimes was an outright show of a hypocritical and malicious mentality.

 Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif has to clean the “Augean Stables” of the gross distortions and criminal disservice of the previous ruling cabals lately that of PPP.  It is apparent to the people of Pakistan that during the past decade the national institutions were deliberately and shamelessly debilitated and destroyed. The odious culture of corruption and bad governance was given full play to make money and fill the coffers of the people in power.

 Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif presented a resume of the wounds inflicted on body politic of Pakistan and the way the elitists classes and politicians tried in every possible manner to render Pakistan a failed and bankrupt nation. For the past several years there has been a complete breakdown of the law and order and the governance seemed to be in tatters.

 On the contrary the vast population was subjected to grinding poverty, degradation of life, lawlessness and so on. A nation turned mercenary and pawn in a war that has wreaked it economically and socially, besides denting the national unity and dignified survival as a free nation.

One of the pernicious offshoots was the teUnknown-49rrorism that is still rampaging Pakistan. The drone attacks started during Musharraf era and continued during the PPP rule have made a mockery of the sovereignty of Pakistan. There is a rampant loot and plunder prevalent from top to bottom. 

The persistent acute electric power shortage was cashed by the big wigs of the previous government for making personal fortunes. The national enterprises like Steel Mills, PIA, railways were subjected to economic ruination.

 Referring to terrorism‚ the prime minister said the government was determined to tackle this horrendous problem either through dialogue or with full might of the state. He said that on this issue all the state institutions were in agreement. 

The grave lawlessness and demons of corruption that the Pakistani nation has been witnessing for over decade robbed people of peace of mind and even barest means for two square meals. As a result Pakistan can be equaled with some of the unstable African countries now passing through the civil war.

 One by one he mentioned the breakdown of law and order, the unremitting terrorism, the Balochistan imbroglio, the Kashmir stalemate, the thorny relations with India, rehabilitation of the doomed enterprises, chronic corruption, the drone attacks, the creation of jobs, the provision of houses to the homeless, the completion of the stalled power projects.

 Offering an olive branch to India he remarked that both India and Pakistan should grasp this reality that they should stop wasting their energies and resources on wars‚ and instead divert these to eliminate poverty‚ ignorance and disease.

 Bu the most outstanding feature of his speech was to build with China’s help a 2000 miles long highway and railway track between the Kashgar city of China and Karachi. He empathized that this mile-stone project would open a glorious gateway and gigantic spectrum of economic boom for both the countries. 

On both sides of this historic miracle, the industrial and economic zones would be established that in return would create countless jobs and lead Pakistan into the fold of prosperous nations. The Prime Minister said that his vision was to extend motorways and communication links not only to Kabul but also to Central Asia and South Asian region.

The writer is a senior journalist, former editor of Diplomatic Times and a former diplomat

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اینڈیا مردہ باد ۔


جنگ شروع ہندوستان کرے گا.
ہم صرف گارنٹی دیتے ہیں کہ 
الله کی قسم اب دہلی سے پہلے نہیں رکیں گیں
ختم ہم کریں گے
انشا اللّہ
حیران ہو گئے ؟؟ یہ مقبوضہ کشمیر ہے۔۔۔ کیا آپ بھی اتنا پیار کرتے ہیں کشمیر سے ؟؟
دوستو !! اس کشمیری نوجوان کو دیکھ کہ ہمیں اتنا پیار آیا ہے کہ ہم نے سوچا کہ پورے سوشل میڈیا پر اس نوجوان کی تصویر کو آزادی کے موقع پر اپنی اپنی پروفائل میں لگائیں گے۔۔ کشمیر سے یک جہتی کا ثبوت دے دیں اور آزادی کے موقع پر سب یہ تصویر پروفائلز میں لگا لیں۔۔
قائد اعظم اور اقبال سے محبت کا ثبوت دیں۔۔ ایک قوم بن جائیں۔۔۔
٭٭ یہ وُہ مُسلم ہیں جن کو دیکھ کے کپکپائے  ننگے بھارت ٭٭
اینڈیا مردہ باد ۔
وہ حقیقت جو پاکستانی غدار میڈیا اپکو نہیں دکھاتا


تونے پاکستان پہ حملے کی دھمکی دے کر پاکستانی قوم کو متحد کردیا ہے یہی دھمکیاں دے کر تونے ہمیں اسلحے میں خودمختار بنایا.. ہم ایٹمی طاقت بن گئے.. اور تو اپنے کباڑ کے اسلحے پر فخر کرتا رہ گیا
دیکھ آج کیسے سب پاکستانی متحد ہیں.. ادھر بھول کے بھی مت آنا ورنہ اس دفع تجھے اقوام متحدہ بھی نہیں بچاسکے گا.. اور پاکستانی فوج سے پہلے پاکستانی عوام تیرے گیدڑوں کو مار بھگائے گی


کشمیر بنے گا پاکستان! انشآللہ۔
مقبوضہ کشمیر میں قابض انتظمیہ کے خلاف کشمیریوں نے بھارت کا پرچم نزر آتش کیا اور ہزاروں کشمیریوں نے پاکستان کا پرچم تھام کر عید کی نماز ادا کی۔ مقبوضہ فوج سے یہ بات رہی نہ گئی اور انھوں نے غیر معینہ مدت کیلئے کرفیو نافز کردیا اور حریت رہنماؤں کو نظر بند کردیا یہاں تک کہ انکو عید کی نماز پڑھنے سے بھی روک 

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