It was December 2009. Chilly winter days, I was with a relative at an army club. It was quiet that day. Not much activities going on. The swimming pool was barren, no people there. Halls empty. Far in the corner, a wedding was going on in the reserved lawn.

And on the side outside, he was sitting. I cannot disclose his real name, for I myself do not know. I will just call him “Codename Hassan”.

He was seated on a chair, having a glass of water. Wearing simple kameez shalwar and an Arabian-styled scarf on him.

He noticed my relative and got up to greet him.

I was introduced to him.

I shook his hands for the first and last time.

Who was he, a visitor? Or a worker at the club? Must be one of the waiters.

I came outside. On the way back, I was told Codename “Hassan” was an intel officer. On routine inspection duty.

What a young man, I thought. MashaAllah. If only I knew who he was back then, I would have loved talking to him more.

A few months later, I heard the news that the young soul had been martyred in an attack on the regional ISI office there, alongwith some other of his colleagues. He was no more.

Who was Codename “Hassan”? What was his education? Where did he live? What happened to her mother, left crying? How many siblings did he have?

I have no knowledge. Neither do you.

He is one among many such secret souls..

They silently worked, and silently died.

Source: Codename “Hassan”: A silent life, a silent death

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