A Vanishing Signal…
The night over Mumbai glittered with city lights, a sprawl of gold and sapphire reflected in the Arabian Sea. The air at Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport shimmered with movement – gliding airplanes, streaming headlights, and the faint, rhythmic hum of turbines piercing the quiet humdrum of distant traffic on the roads which were close to the airport.
Inside the Air Traffic Control tower, everything was smooth with the calm precision of routine. Monitors pulsed with transponder data, radar screens swept their green arcs across panels, and rows of controllers murmured into headsets, coordinating hundreds of lives in perfect synchronization. The hum of machines mixed with the rhythmic flow of clipped voices, the language of the skies distilled into codes and confirmations.
“Runway three-two cleared for landing. Tail India Alpha Two-Seven-Nine acknowledged.”
The supervisor, Senior ATC Officer Ananya, leaned back slightly in her chair, her eyes never leaving the central radar screen. Her team was in rhythm tonight – no delays, no diversions, not a single emergency at all. Even the unpredictable Mumbai monsoon had shown mercy. She took a breath, allowing herself a fleeting sip of coffee that had gone lukewarm, and smiled at the reassuring familiarity of uneventful work.
At the periphery of her vision, another light blinked amber, only to turn green again. Flights arriving from Dubai, Doha, Frankfurt, and London filled the inbound corridor at different altitudes, choreographed across invisible skyways as if by some divine rhythm. It was nearing midnight, and the next few hours would be a steady descent into calm.
Then, a faint tremor rippled across the control room – not sound, but a shift in pattern.
“Ma’am,” a young controller named Raghav called across the console, voice hesitant. “You may want to see this.”
Ananya rolled her chair toward his radar scope. A flight code flickered faintly at the edge of the screen – MEA Flight 209, inbound from Beirut, scheduled to touch down at 00:42 local time. It had been steadily tracking over the Arabian Sea, its transponder pinging every thirty seconds without fail. However, now… The small digital blip shuddered once, froze, and then… disappeared.
Raghav frowned. “It’s gone off Primary Surveillance Radar. No secondary transponder either.”
Ananya narrowed her eyes. “Try the backup feed. ADS-B data.”
He typed swiftly. The system blinked, refreshing streams of telemetry and positional data – but the Beirut flight was gone, swallowed whole by the expanse of digital darkness.
“This could be a transponder malfunction,” Raghav offered, voice taut.
Ananya shook her head. “Even if the transponder failed, we’d still have primary radar return. Check neighbouring FIR coordinates from Muscat, Karachi ACC zones. Were they tracking her?”
The communications desk came alive with cross-country coordination. Static-laced voices from foreign control centres filled the frequency. Each confirmed the same detail – MEA 209 had been visible until six minutes ago, over the about 250 nautical miles over Arabian Sea west of Mumbai FIR, then abruptly vanished.
Ananya’s heartbeat quickened. “All right,” she said, standing now. Around her the room seemed charged, the calm hum replaced by an edge of disbelief. “Initiate unresponsive aircraft protocol. Notify Search and Rescue Coordination Centre immediately.”
On a secondary monitor, the system began mapping the last known coordinates. A blinking red dot flashed over the dark blue stretch of sea, 250 nautical miles west of Alibaug…. from there, nothing.
The weather feed showed no convective storms, no adverse conditions. Visibility – clear, Winds – light, it was a perfect night. So why would a modern Airbus lose contact without a trace?
One by one, heads turned toward the large glass wall overlooking the runways. Out there, aircraft lights traced calm descents, streaks of moving stars against the black velvet sky. Everything below remained deceptively ordinary – jets taxiing, runways glowing, destinations announced over intercoms. Only inside the tower did the illusion fracture.
Ananya pressed her headset mic. “MEA 209, Mumbai Control, do you read?” Her voice stayed calm, practiced…. Silence…. She tried again. “MEA 209, this is Mumbai Control. You are not visible on radar. Respond if you can hear me. Squawk your identity.”
There was nothing but the faint hiss of open air.
A low murmur coursed through the room. Operators relayed details to Air Defence, the Navy, and Marine Traffic Control. One of the senior technicians checked for system anomalies, wondering if perhaps a sensor failure was responsible. None was found. The systems were clean… too clean.
Ananya stood at the centre of the room, eyes fixed on that one vanished dot. Around her, the rhythms of aviation continued, hundreds of flights seamlessly tracked and handed off. Yet amid the order, there was a hollow space – one aircraft, hundreds of lives, swallowed without a ripple.
“Keep trying every emergency frequency,” she said. “And get coordinates of any planes in the vicinity. Maybe someone saw something.”
Minutes stretched. Controllers synced data with satellite feeds, replayed the final thirty-second transmission again and again. The last words from the Beirut flight’s captain were chillingly ordinary – a standard position check, a calm acknowledgment before entering Mumbai FIR. Then a static…
Ananya rubbed her temples, aware the clock was marking every passing second since loss of contact. Longer the silence, the lesser the hope…
Suddenly, a junior technician at the satellite console gasped. “Ma’am – possible ping, but… it’s strange. Brief return signal found far off expected trajectory… heading South… off the airport at Cochin towards west.”
“How far off?”
“About 300 nautical miles off route from Cochin… Altitude unknown… It appeared for two seconds and vanished again. Was heading south…”
The room froze.
No one spoke. The only sounds were the soft hums of machinery and the faint static of open airwaves. Ananya stepped forward, staring at the ghostly streak of data.
It was impossible – anomalous even – but undeniable.
She looked up, catching the reflection of her own face against the glass wall, city lights shimmering behind her like distant warning signals. Somewhere beyond the dark horizon, an aircraft that should not have been there was drifting in silence.
And for the first time in her fifteen years at the tower, she felt the air grow thin – the kind of silence that did not belong to machines, but to something far more human.
A SOS was sounded off to every possible rescue unit that Flight MEA 209 was missing… a Boeing 777 plane with 2 experienced pilots, crew strength of 16 and 396 passengers were at risk.
The protocol for finding the missing flight had begun and nobody knew the reason behind… only guesswork.
Natasha Singh was travelling within Mumbai city heading back to the guest house where she was staying. She saw a message flash on her phone and looked more closely in disbelief. It seemed like an intelligence report coming true but from unexpected quarters. The intelligence report was that a flight was likely to be hijacked by ISI posing as terrorists… what she had not anticipated was a foreign operated flight originating from somewhere outside India…
“Imtiaz bhai…” she said to the driver of her government officiated vehicle, “Turn around… we are going to the international airport.”
“Ma’am… are you going out of town? Your luggage is still at the guest house…”
“I don’t know yet… just get to your best speed and take me there. Wait for my instructions outside in the parking lot.”
“As you say, ma’am…” the driver said and veered the car into the by lane and took another alley to get back to the crossing where they could drive toward the airport.
The next 30 minutes as the driver negotiated the road at whatever top speed he could manage in the heavy Mumbai traffic, Natasha made few phone calls asking for details and giving quick action orders to her teams. They reached the airport and she jumped out of the car, her uniform telling the glory of the department she served… she was greeted by the Security in Charge of the Mumbai airport and whisked away inside the airport with urgency.
Though young in age, she was a senior officer at SOS a security organization who reported directly to the NSA of India. She belonged to the elite group who not only handled various intelligence agencies in India but also planned action against enemies of the nation – whether they were outside or within.
As soon as she reached the main office of Airport security, she was handed some relevant papers which had been emailed to their desk. It contained a detailed list of the passengers, cabin crew and the pilots who were at the helm of the flight that had disappeared into nowhere…
This was the last flight out of Beirut as the country of Lebanon was attacked and was in a war like situation. This came up as a backlash against the Hezbollah group after Israel was murderously attacked by Hamas on 7th Oct and Hezbollah had attacked Israel in support for Hamas. India being on friendly terms with both Israel and Lebanon had miraculously evacuated all its citizens through the chaos and this was the only flight with given permission to fly off from Beirut’s Rafik Hariri International airport to fly to India.
It was carrying the last of Indian embassy’s staff – four to be precise and the rest of the flight was filled with Lebanese people who wanted to escape the war-torn territory. All the cabin crew were Lebanese except for the captain of the flight Mr Anil Dhar who was an Indian employed by MEA (Middle East Airlines) the official carrier of Lebanon.
She looked at the list of people on board the flight and there was nobody who was high ranked in the embassy nor the captain of the flight was someone to bother with… was this flight hijacked and for what reason and by whom? ISI would definitely not hijack a Lebanese flight and most passengers were Lebanese, if it had to intimidate India.
She started scanning the passenger list again…
Abdullah Saif … this name seemed familiar. She tapped on the name twice but couldn’t put a finger as to where she had heard the name. She dialled her HQ for more information on anyone by that name and she was instantly related the information… He was now second in command for Jaish-e-Mohammad a terrorist group known for its terror activities and grooming. She asked for his photo if the HQ had any and one photo was sent instantly to her phone. She asked HQ to send that photo and to inquire with Lebanese airport officials for identification. She put the phone down almost knowing in her heart that it was this terrorist who had boarded the missing flight.
She picked up the papers again and started to scan them a bit more meticulously… she found another 3 names of suspected Jaish terrorists on board. Her mind thinking of how they found their way to Lebanon in first place and why they were booked into this flight knowing that they were on radar of Indian intelligence. They were sure to be caught on arrival and sent into custody. They had absolute no chance of doing any mischief for they would not be given any chance.
She had this uneasy feeling of a sinister plot by ISI using the terrorists of Jaish which was currently beyond her line of thought. She turned around and requested a coffee for she knew it was going to be a long night before some information was revealed. Every fifteen minutes or so, the ATC kept reporting that the flight was still missing without a trace.
Finally at 4am there was news from MEA authorities that either the flight had landed at some unknown place or had crashed, for it didn’t have enough fuel to fly this long. Natasha got up from the seat a bit wearily… the danger of this flight hovering over or landing at Mumbai was over… the question still remained… where was this flight? What actually had happened?
Natasha called up her vehicle driver who was having a good nap inside the car and asked him to pick her up near the exit of terminal 2. She carried the wad of papers she had collected sitting inside the security cabin of the airport and the driver drove her back to the government guest house…
“Go home Imtiaz bhai… I will not want the car… not till 2pm at least. I will call you if I do… take good rest for it could be a long day after 2pm.”
“Yes… ma’am.” He said and left for his home.
Natasha looked at the watch – almost 5am. She put the wad of papers on the study table and looked at the bed which was beckoning her with its soft mattress and comfort. She thought for a moment and jumped into the bed without bothering to change over into comfy sleeping clothes.
Natasha slept like a log for 6 hours when a call on her mobile woke her up… it seemed along with Jaish terrorists, there were two ISI agents on board which made her sure that the flight was hijacked by them and for some sinister reason… she just couldn’t lay a finger on why…
Over a cup of hot tea after she freshened up, she again started looking for clues in the papers she had carried from the airport. She found that most of the passengers had booked this flight to save themselves from the war like situation – poor they – from fire into the frying pan – the plane they were travelling never reached its destination – it was hijacked by Jaish terrorists and ISI mid-air. They still weren’t safe… and the plane – it was still missing.
She had to start somewhere, one theory and the most probable was that the plane had been hijacked by terrorists of Pakistan. She was looking for other angles – was there someone who was important enough aboard for the plane to be hijacked… was the Captain of the plane a novice that he lost control or was he experienced – if he was experienced why the radio silence of what was the situation on the plane… many questions… answers yet to be found…
She called up HQ and asked them to research on all the passengers aboard the flight 209… she was sure the Indian embassy staff were not the target for they were simple employees with no specific designation and were of no use to ISI. It had to be one or more of the passengers who were the targets. She had a refreshing bath freshening up more to face the long day ahead and had a heavy breakfast to keep up with the energy required for a hard day ahead.
Around 1pm, she received information about the passengers on board… none would interest anyone or any agency in the World to hijack a plane… she had to wait for the information on Captain and his co-pilot… the cabin crew were all Lebanese, so nothing interesting there for any agency – they were clean.
Around 2pm came the next information, the co-pilot never made it to the flight… he was found unconscious, heavily drugged and all tied up in the toilet for the pilots. Since there were no other flights from that airport – nobody had bothered to check the toilet for the day. It was only when the cleaning staff had reached the location next day was the co-pilot discovered in that state. He had been moved to hospital. The MEA and Lebanese authorities were waiting for him to recover so that they could know who did it…
This made her sure that the plane was hijacked by ISI – but the motive behind was still unknown. Secondly… how would they board with weapons? Especially when the security at all airports had been tightened after the 9/11 incident in USA… Was there an insider who had helped these ISI men along with the terrorists?
She was in touch with the HQ and she had asked these doubts to be clarified with the Lebanese counterparts. The answer came back that every possible security scan was followed and nobody would have boarded the flight with weapons. They also confirmed that Captain of the flight Mr Anil Dhar was not alone – there was co-pilot along with him and they both had not been checked by security.
There was another co-pilot? Who could it be? Was he someone from ISI or the terrorists? Was he experienced to fly the 777 plane? – The investigation it seemed was now heading somewhere…
Then again, there was silence and a long one… no clues about who had boarded the flight as Anil Dhar’s co-pilot. No clues to whereabouts of the plane and certainly no communication – either from the plane or from anyone wanting to negotiate a release of the passengers. Every information from then had stopped… further the escalation of war like situation in Lebanon wasn’t helping the investigation.
She decided to go back to her HQ in Delhi though she was a bit reluctant for the case she was in Mumbai for was almost cracked. It was about a corrupt corporator who had embezzled millions of rupees in a scam. She almost had all the proofs to nab him. She wanted to complete this mission – but knowing that ISI and Pakistan could be involved in the disappearance of the Flight MEA209 was more important. It was about national security.
She called up her subordinate who was assisting her in the case of the corporator and briefed him about all developments and asked him to make sure that the corporator was behind bars and quickly… then she packed her bag and left for the airport and was soon on the flight to Delhi where her HQ was…
The news of missing flight was everywhere and the world was asking questions as to what had happened to Flight MEA209… and there were no answers with anyone concerned… the flight had just disappeared – nobody knew if it had landed at an unknown airbase or crashed somewhere on land or in the Indian ocean.
Natasha wasn’t going to give up on the case… it was now over a month and the missing Flight MEA209 was off the main news… only few people on social media were pursuing the matter and they too were now dwindling in numbers as more of World news started to catch their attention. People seemed to have forgotten about the 400 odd people on board of that flight…
After all, flights just don’t disappear… there has to be some reason… Natasha asked the aviation experts to trace an imaginary path or the arc which the flight could have taken and reached any destination with the amount of fuel it had… obviously, a flight couldn’t just keep flying – it has to refuel somewhere… when the arc was given to her she trained the satellites to check if the 777 Boeing plane could be detected.
Natasha was sitting on her desk looking at various national issues that were popping up on the screen in front of her… when one bit of information on a Khalistani rat threatening to blow up an Air India flight caught her attention. Her mind automatically was diverted to the missing flight… she called her team and asked them to find backgrounds of both the pilot Anil Dhar and if Lebanese authorities had any of the mysterious co-pilot who was along with him on the flight. Obviously, if he was sinister, Anil Dhar should have automatically informed the authorities. But he didn’t and that raised a doubt – was Anil Dhar also involved in the sinister plot? Was he clean? These and the cabin crew were the only members who had not gone through the security check.
After a couple of days Natasha received the information on Anil Dhar but Lebanese authority was unable to identify who had been the co-pilot of the flight and the person remained a mystery. She opened the file to check what clues she could find in the information of Anil Dhar…
Anil Dhar as she found out had secured flying licence when he was 18 and he came from a well to do family. His family was a bit orthodox and as soon as he secured a job when he was 21 years old, he was married to Anjali Gaur who came from a small village but was extremely good looking and pious. For some time his marriage was going good and he had a daughter named Aarohi when he was just about 22 years of age.
He had tried securing a job of main captain for flights in India but was unable to when he had started to apply for airlines operating outside India. Soon his application was shortlisted by MEA (Middle East Airlines) and he joined them based in Beirut. He flew the world across and was with glamorous air-hostesses which started to affect his relation with Anjali.
During this time he came close to Iffaa Safadi – a Lebanese girl who was an airhostess with MEA and mostly shared the same flights which he flew. Soon, he fell in love with Iffaa and they decided to marry. Anjali was still in India and without her knowledge he converted his religion and married Iffaa according to Lebanese traditions.
He loved both his wives and soon had a daughter from Iffaa named Nigarish. He was around age of 30 when Nigarish was born. He cared for his both daughters and loved them a lot. Wherever he used to fly he always used to get local gifts for both of them. He was about 42 years of age where he had about 10000 plus hours of flying experience when this happened. Iffaa was with him in the missing flight which left his daughter Nigarish alone in this world and last time she was traced was about 7 days ago before the incident when she left them for Europe on a flight to Milan which was flown by his colleague.
He had lost his parents due to their age and illness and his Indian wife along with his daughter Aarohi had vanished. Later they were traced to a flight leaving Mumbai for Milan on the same day as Nigarish left for Milan and supposed to land around same time there…
“This seems a bit of too much coincidence… both families leave for Milan and are supposed to land around same time in Mlian…” Natasha observed… “Meera, contact the ED and find details of any extra money Anil Dhar had received during any period of his tenure…”
“Yes ma’am…” Meera left her cabin to carry out the new instructions… after about 3 hours she returned, “Ma’am, you were correct… Anil Dhar received about 2 million dollars about 9 days before the flight went missing. This money was transferred to both his family in India and in Beirut… however, this money never made to banks in both India and Lebanon – it was transferred to their account in National Bank of Greece… we also found out that Anil Dhar owns a huge property in Greece and we have every reason to believe that his families have shifted to Tsoukalades, a small village and tourist place in Greece.”
“Hmm… interesting… Time to visit Greece to check on Tsoukalades … they might have some information… book my flight to Athens. I want to see them at Tsoukalades…”
After a couple of days, Natasha landed in Athens as a tourist and started a small tour as a tourist so that no eyebrows were raised. For a start, she was visiting The Plaka in Athens and the surrounding areas where the best restaurants are and as well as it is Athens’ main shopping district. It was a few blocks from Syntagma Square and Monastiraki Square was also the safest area to be in… as if luck had smiled on her, she got a glimpse of Aarohi who was looking at few items… “Well, well… I found one… now for others from Anil Dhar’s family…” she muttered within her breath.
Athens glowed in the golden haze of twilight, its ancient ruins casting long shadows over narrow streets buzzing with life. In the maze of Plaka’s alleys, Aarohi’s footsteps quickened – she felt the cold edge of fear as few strangers closed in. Their eyes were sharp, their purpose seemed deadly. Aarohi’s instincts were warning her of trouble… her father had warned her that after he disappears, she and the family could be targeted by few members of ISI and Hezbollah terror group who were hiding in Greece.
Natasha was closely following Aarohi for clues and was inconspicuous. The mean looking men who were following Aarohi suddenly accosted her in a bid to kidnap her. From the crowd, Natasha suddenly emerged – a sleek silhouette wrapped in a leather jacket, eyes scanning with precision. Her movements were calculated, her pulse steady. The men lunged, but she was faster.
In a blink of eye, she disarmed one with a twist of his wrist, sent another slamming into the stone wall… his head banging on the stone wall before falling unconscious on the ground. She kicked the first one she had disarmed with a solid kick between his legs and he buckled up in pain. She pushed him away with all her might and he crashed on a vegetable vendor’s display. The chaos of the marketplace erupted – a vendor’s table crashed, vegetables scattered like spilled apple cart.
Natasha grabbed Aarohi by the arm, her voice low and commanding. “Stay by me…” The air thickened with danger as a Hezbollah gunman raised his weapon from the rooftop. Natasha’s glock snapped up first. One shot… silence. Only the echo of the Parthenon bells could be heard above and bore witness to the chaos on the streets of Athens.
She grabbed hand of terrorised Aarohi and ran through the flickering lights of Athens, past the blare of sirens rising in the distance. For Aarohi, every breath was terror and disbelief; she had been warned by her father but had not taken his warning seriously. For Natasha, it was instinct and duty. On a rain-slick rooftop, under a Greek flag whispering in the wind, Natasha turned to trembling Aarohi “You’re safe now,” she said, her voice softer this time – but her eyes stayed on the horizon, already tracing the next danger which could arise before dawn. Using lanes and by-lanes she reached the hotel she was staying along with Aarohi. Aarohi was still trembling with what she had experienced some time ago.
She didn’t know who Natasha was and why she had saved her life… could she be from another group who wanted to get even with Anil Dhar through his family? All she could do was to weep inconsolably. After a while Aarohi recovered from her experience and looked at Natasha, “Who are you?”
“I’m Natasha Singh from Indian special forces… I was on a holiday and wanted to roam around Greece… Who are you? – You look like an Indian.”
“Yes ma’am. I am an Indian now a Greek citizen. Why did you help me?”
I thought you were an Indian and my duty says wherever I have an Indian in danger – I got to save that person. So I intervened.”
“Oh! Thank you so much. I don’t know what would have been my fate…”
“Don’t think about it… do you stay in Athens? Your family may be worried that you haven’t returned home.”
“No… I actually stay in Tsoukalades… a tourist village in Greece. It is a beautiful and calm place, tranquil in nature. You got mountains, the sea and lovely beaches out there. We, our family own a villa which we have turned into a tourist homestay cum hotel. That’s our livelihood now…”
“Oh! Is that so? I was going to visit that place but I haven’t booked anything yet.”
“Why don’t you stay at our place… we will not charge you anything because you saved me from those goons.”
“Are you sure they were goons? They carried weapons which were sophisticated.” A faint hint of nervousness crept over Aarohi but she just shrugged as if she didn’t know who they were…
Next day they left for Tsoukalades, to her villa where Natasha was going to meet her mother – wife of Anil Dhar and with a hope that she would have some idea as to what was going on… They reached there and Aarohi hugged her mother tightly weeping as she related her experience and fear could be seen on her mother’s face clearly. Natasha decided to wait for the day before trying to ask them about the disappearance of flight 209. She couldn’t see Nigarish anywhere around and wondered where she would be…
Anyway, it was almost late in the evening when they had reached her homestay kind of resort and she decided to wait for the next day.
The next day dawned to a beautiful morning with light rain drizzling over the mountains and lush greenery around. Natasha looked around at the nature and smiled… Anil Dhar had chosen a beautiful place for his retirement if he had the chance to… however this missing flight had not given him the chance. She was wondering if Anil Dhar would miraculously show up… instead around afternoon, Nigarish showed up as she returned from her boarding school.
She waited for some time for Anil Dhar to show up… if he showed up, the entire case would be solved. Else, she would have to talk to these people and if required put the pressure so that she could get information on the missing flight and Anil Dhar…
They had their dinner together specially arranged to thank Natasha for helping Aarohi and rescuing her from whoever had attacked. The dinner was quiet however Nigarish had a feeling that Natasha was not on a holiday. She was almost sure that Natasha was visiting Greece to check what actually had happened to Flight 209.
She was correct in her instincts and feeling – soon Natasha started to inquire about the family… she wondered as to how the 3 women managed and where was their father – she hadn’t seen anyone male around…
Nigarish shifted her sitting position a bit and looked at Natasha, “I don’t know why I have a feeling that you are here on some purpose… I can help you if you stop beating the bush around and come straight to the point.”
Natasha looked at her and thought for a moment… though a teenager she had sharp mind and fantastic instincts… may be the situation in Lebanon had taught and made her this way… “You are correct… I am here in search for clues to the missing Flight MEA 209… it was a flight flown by your father… what has raised concern is he has received a sum of 2 million dollars which he deposited in National Bank of Greece – 1 million each in his daughter’s accounts here… this has made everyone think that he is a traitor and one of the conspirators…”
“He is neither a traitor nor the conspirator – he was a brave man.” Aarohi flared up.
“So was my mother Iffaa…” Nigarish said with a tone that seemed proud.
“So… why don’t you tell me what actually happened. May be I would be clear his name and the tag of being a traitor.”
“It was a difficult night for me…” Anjali started slow and melancholic in her voice, “at first it was a shock for me to know that he also was married and had a Lebanese wife and a daughter as well… before I could digest this information, he dropped the news that he was in danger and we would not be able to see him anymore… he was going to end up his life. He made me promise that I will mother Nigarish as if she was my own daughter. He then said that he was transferring huge amount of money in National Bank of Greece in both his daughter’s accounts and I should immediately and quietly leave for Greece – we had been here before and knew this place. I couldn’t understand what was going on… then he said that Nigarish would be alone in this world since his Lebanese wife will be accompanying him in his death – a brave woman – she could easily have decided to ditch him and come to Greece with us… that was the last conversation I had with him and by the time we reached Greece and settled down… the news of the missing flight was everywhere.” She started sobbing from the memory of what had happened.
“I feel sorry for you… but, it doesn’t clear his name as a traitor and a conspirator to the missing flight.” Natasha looked at them.
“Will you promise to clear his name if I can prove that he wasn’t a traitor… in fact, he gave up his life to save millions of people…”
“I promise… give me the proof and I will certainly do that.”
“Ok wait, I will go to my room and be back…” saying this Nigarish got up and walked toward her bedroom. After a while, she returned with a diary in her hand and handed it over to Natasha, “read this in your own time and you will come to know what my mom and dad have done for India. He had told me that except for some Indian official who comes in search of me – I am not supposed to hand over this diary. I am handing this over to you.”
Natasha took the diary and patted Nigarish, then she walked to her room… wanting to read the content in the diary. It would, she hoped, solve the mystery of missing flight 209.
What she found in the diary was something that highlighted the level to which ISI and terrorists could stoop down to… the content read something like this…
‘Since there were very few flights out of Beirut, I had no flight for 10 more days and it was going to be the last flight out of Beirut before they shut down everything here. Bombs were raining intermittently on buildings which Israel thought belonged to or hid the Hezbollah who they termed as terrorists. Obviously, the enmity was at its peak. I decided to visit the cafeteria for pilots trying to find out if there was any chance for my family to get out of Lebanon…
When I was visiting the cafeteria I suddenly felt an urge which I thought was an upset stomach. So I entered the cloak room but it was a fake urge and I was relieved that it wasn’t an upset stomach. Suddenly I heard 2 people speak in Urdu – a language I understand a bit less than I do Hindi… what I heard chilled my spine right down to the bone marrow… they were discussing a way to get a live dirty bomb into the cargo of the aircraft I was supposed to fly to Mumbai. It was a dirty bomb which they had been able to steal and smuggle into Lebanon.
I flushed the toilet and opened the toilet door to take a look at them… they obviously didn’t know that I could understand Urdu so they kept planning… I greeted them in Arabic while passing some time washing my hands and trying to fix my look… then I took a selfie on my mobile phone with them in the background and I came out of the cloak room.
For few minutes, I didn’t know what to do or how to react for averting the deadly plan they were supposed to carry out. Their plan was to sneak in the dirty bomb in the cargo of the plane and when the flight was over and about to land in Mumbai waiting for the approach to runway – blast the bomb which would kill at least two million people who lived in and around Mumbai. It was a desperate suicidal bombing effort – I didn’t know how they would be able to smuggle that bomb in the cargo of the plane despite security.
I was sweating like a pig when I realized the scale of this terror attack and was unable to understand what I should do… so I decided to approach the head of security at the airport so that I could fail this plan – if it was feasible in first place. When I was sitting in the cabin of the head of the security – he at first was in disbelief and called someone to hear me out… I was horrified to see those two people who I had heard in the cloak room enter – smiling evil at me…
They said they didn’t think I was an Indian by origin and that I could understand what they spoke in Urdu… but now that they know… it was trouble for me. In many words they threatened me and then started threatening me to get even with my family. They knew I had two wives – one in India and one in Lebanon – each bearing one daughter of mine.
Then they were told by the security head that I had converted before I married my Lebanese wife and now followed Islam… they looked at me for a long moment and told me to join forces with them for purpose of Jihad… according to them I was to blow up along with the plane over Mumbai that will lead me to heaven…
I had no other choice – they knew everything about me and my family – every one of us was at risk… I asked them some time to decide… I knew if I rejected their offer, they would kill me and bring in a pilot from Pakistan who could fly a 777 and include him in the plan.
First I thought it was a terrorist plan but soon I realized it was planned by ISI and the terrorists of Jaish-e-Mohammad and Hezbollah along with Hamas terrorists were a part and parcel in the planning. The Hamas and Hezbollah had joined forces with ISI and Jaish terrorists for they were made to believe that India was helping Israel and thus was an enemy at par with Israel. They thus were ready to be a part of their plan.
I thought for an hour thinking a way to get out of this mess and stop them… after all I was first an Indian and then Lebanese… I told them that I was ready however, I had concern about my wife and daughter after me and they said they would cover me up with 2 million dollars… I needed a guarantee and time to think of a way to avert this crazy and deadly plan by them.
I think I was able to convince about my inclusion in the plan for next day, my bank account showed additional 2 million dollars in the statement followed by a call from them confirming that it was them who had put the money in my account. The first thought in my mind was to make sure that my wives and my daughters were safe. The only place I could think of was my villa in Greece… that should allow them to remain safe…
It was a long discussion with them first as to how they planned and what needs to be done from my side then at home I had a long discussion with my wife Iffaa… she wasn’t going to let me go alone and was adamant that she would accompany me in my fate. I tried to reason with her citing the future of our daughter and she suggested that I should talk to my other wife in India and inform her that you were in dire danger and you wanted her to take care of Nigarish…
With uncertainty of how would Anjali react to the news of my second wife and a daughter from her – I called her and told her that the situation was dire and this was the last time we could speak… at first, she wept a lot but then as expected from an Indian wife – she promised me to take care of Nigarish as her own daughter. It was difficult to say goodbye to her… after that, my mind went in overdrive… I had decided that Nigarish, Aarohi and Anjali should be safe and started to think how I could get them safely to Greece… I sat on my pc and started to look for avenues for them to get safely to Greece. It was then I realized that my friend was going to fly his last flight before being grounded to Milan….
Now my plan was ready – I booked Nigarish into the Milan flight and looked for a flight from Mumbai going to Milan which could land around the same time and I found one… I booked that flight for Anjali and Aarohi. From there, I booked separate flight – a different booking to London… from London I booked them to Istanbul separately and from Istanbul to Athens… I was almost sure that these terrorists now wouldn’t be able to trace their path and they would be safe except for few of them who could be hiding in Greece. Then vide email I sent Anjali the photograph of Nigarish so that she could recognize her and to Nigarish I gave photos of Anjali and Aarohi…
This done; now I had to think of saving at least a couple of million people in and around Mumbai… I kept on thinking and even thought of manoeuvring the flight to may be Karachi and let them think that it was Mumbai and let them blast the dirty bomb… but , I am not a killer and I crossed that thought – I couldn’t kill a couple of million people wherever they be – even if they were in Pakistan.
The next day their plan was final… they had been able to convince the security at both ends – the cargo and the boarding… the bomb was going to be laden without any issues as well the terrorists were going to be on board. Further, if the plane deviated from the path because of me… their air-force would come into play and will direct me as close to Mumbai as was possible… they said even if we are 200 nautical miles near Mumbai and with the height at which we would be flying… they would explode the bomb mid-air and it would still affect Mumbai.
So I was stuck with the only option of flying the plane into Mumbai airspace and be a part of devastation there… it was here, where my flying experience came to my help… if I could be off any radar of any airport… the air-force wouldn’t be able to do anything… they simply would lose me and not know where the plane was… I opened the world map on the screen of my pc and carefully devised my path where I could avoid radars and any form of communication… I had planned to crash the plane in Indian ocean – away from any land and any radar which could trace the plane…
I told the plan to Iffaa and she agreed that it was the best they could do… from then, I am at peace and I await the moment of my final destiny.
I know the Indian intelligence would try to solve the mystery I create with this missing plane – I feel sorry for the 300 odd passengers the flight would be carrying – but it is 300 against 3 million perhaps – the difference is huge. I am instructing Nigarish that if any intelligence officer form India who comes searching for me and the family should be given this diary for them to know what kind of devils are these inhuman bastards – the ISI and the terrorists and it will teach them that these cannot be trusted even from a neutral foreign site…
I hope Allah may pardon me for what I am going to do and pray that my family remains safe… hope nobody finds the missing plane in the Indian ocean with the live dirty bomb.’
Natasha read the final lines and was satisfied about how the Flight 209 disappeared and she decided to abandon the search for the plane. Satisfied that Anil Dhar was not to be blamed but someone who should be honoured along with his brave Lebanese wife who didn’t leave him even in death… she dozed off to sleep.
Back in India leaving Anil Dhar’s family in Greece to live their life as they wanted, she submitted her confidential report along with Anil Dhar’s diary and closed the case of the Missing Flight MEA 209.
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