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The ‘jihad’ against Russians was over and war among factional warlords was on its peak. We were informed that due to the fighting between tow rival Islamic warlords we will be not able to go to jalalabad. So I went to Torkham to know about the situation.
I found the small bazaar of Torkham like it was a cemetery. The fighting was continued on Afghanistan part of the Shamshad hill. When I reached there I saw shops and hotels were closed and all people were looking enthrallingly at the Shamshad hill where seven fighters of the Islamic Hizb were hiding in a trench and their rival fighters were searching them bit by bit with fear on their faces. The hiding fighters were finished with ammunition and when they tried to flee back to Pakistani territory their opponents were clever enough to prevent them cross the border.
The opponents had shot their eighth comrade who was critically wounded laying just a few steps away from the bazaar crying for help. But none was going to help him. It was because we were in Pakistani part of the Torkham and they were fighting in the Afghanistan side. Between the tow countries was a big gate which was locked at the time. But the Shamshad was bigger one hundred times than the gate so we were seeing the fighters clearly.
Death was coming close to the seven fighters hiding in the trench as their opponents with their Kalashnikovs ready to shoot were carefully reached to upper part of the trench. People in Torkham were not breathing because they did not want to miss any second of this Death Game. They were watching the horrible scene like a horror film with extraordinary suspense.
Suddenly the armed opponents, undoubtedly Islamic like the others, jumped in front of the trench and there was nothing but blood and a heap of human flesh after thirty seconds. When the game was over, the victorious fighters went back waving their Kalashnikovs proudly and people in Torkham began to do their jobs.
I was deeply shocked and it was an awful experience for me. Who were the killed people? Why they did kill them? When the dead bodies will reach their homes how their mothers, daughters and wives will endure that? There were many questions but no answer. Then I thought I have to wait till tomorrow newspaper for the questions. Will the newspaper publish this story? I asked myself. Why not? It will be the lead story, I answered myself.
I went back where we were staying. It perplexed me all the day. In the night, every time I tried to sleep the story began again. Seven fighters in a trench and one lying on a big stone crying from wounds. Their opponents with loaded Kalashnikovs in their hands searching for them. Suddenly they know that their enemies are hidden in the trench. They jump and kill them in less than one minute. This horrible scene did not let me to sleep. In the dawn I tried for the last time to sleep but it was the worst. In dream, I went to a house where women and children were weeping loudly. When I entered the house I saw tow dead bodies still laying in their bloody clothes. An old lady was pulling her hair and beating herself. A man was trying to keep her in control but he was failed. I asked him who was she? He told me with tears in his eyes that the lady is mother of the tow brothers killed in Shamshad. I went near the dead bodies. Their faces were damaged mercilessly. Again I awakened with fear and fright.
After much waiting, I went to the nearest stall and got a copy of the newspaper. It was another shock and bad experience when I read the lead story. It was:
‘Sons of Rival Commanders Married for Second Time.’
‘According to details, wedding ceremonies of the sons of tow rival Afghan commanders, Engineer Hazrat Islam and Ustad Mohammad Islam, whose forces are fighting in many provinces, arranged on the same day (yesterday) because they are trying to defeat each other every time in every thing. This is second time that they are marrying. It is to be mentioned that each commander have already three wives.’