National identity on the tarmac

Stealing the show from Pakistan’s nuclear scientists in the run-up to the revenge blasts in Chagai was never going to be easy. But three Baloch nationalists gave it a try anyway, and their attempt was heart-rending both in its amateurishness and its denouement.

Their stage was a PIA Fokker plane bound for Karachi from Gawadar, in the extreme southwest corner of Pakistan. Brandishing pistols, the three young men stormed into the cockpit fifteen minutes into the flight and ordered the pilot to take the plane to India. The captain made as if to comply, and told the hijackers that he was landing in Rajasthan’s Jodhpur for re-fuelling on way to New Delhi. He touched down, instead, in Pakistan’s own Hyderabad.

The "poor and illiterate-looking" - as one passenger had it - Baloch men fell for the gambit. The passengers too were stumped for a while; some of them horrified at being in India, prime enemy territory in these frenzied nuclear times, started reciting Quranic verses.

Outside the plane, Hyderabad’s very Pakistani officials had to quickly devise a plan to make their airport (and themselves) look properly Indian (read "Hindu"). Sepoys were deployed at the mosques to keep the muezzins from going on air with their call to prayer and giving the game away! In order to forge a more authentic India, it is reported, the airport staff was asked to wear dhotis. It is not clear where the appropriate cotton cloth was found at such short notice, but the hijackers in all likelihood were not sartorial sophisticates when it came to what Hindus wear.

The simulation became even more ‘authentic’ as the official negotiators assumed names, straight out of Hindi films. Hyderabad’s commissioner became "Dilip" and his deputy was "Gopi". The SSP of police became "Manoj" for the duration of the drama. The trio, it is said, eschewed a "Salam walaikum" and managed a creditable "Namasté" when they met the hijackers.

Suspecting no trickery and believing themselves to be safe in India, the hijackers waited for the arrival of Pakistan’s envoy in New Delhi, with whom they had demanded to speak. In the meantime, they put up a show of traditional Baloch hospitality. True to tradition, Sabir Rind, Shabbir Rind and Shahsawar Rind from the Tarandoz clan of Balochistan, ate their meal only after serving the 21 passengers. The Balochs also invited the ‘Indian’ officials to eat, offering them chicken instead of beef. One also gifted a traditional Baloch lungi (wraparound) to an official. And like all good men, the Balochs allowed the women and children to get off the plane.

Then came the moment of truth, nine hours into the drama. The Indians suddenly turned into Pakistanis, the plane was stormed, and the three young men realised that they had never left Pakistan. They were whisked off by the police, to confess later to being Indian agents. "These fools continued to believe they were in India until their arrest," said Captain Zuhair Ahmed with a touch of bombast.

Fools or amateurs, and criminal hijackers certainly, the three Balochs had a significant message to deliver, something which was considerably underplayed by most of the Subcontinent’s nuclear-charged media. The trio represented the best or worst faces of deprived Balochistan’s angst. All along the drama, they told the passengers: "We have no enmity with anyone. We are against the government of Pakistan. They have money for an atom bomb, but don’t have anything for Balochistan. Thousands of people were killed in floods [in Turbat], but there is no aid. Our area is under-developed, but nobody cares."

Clearly, these were not your typical agents.