In his office room Solimulla was checking the invoices of the purchased medicines and other relief goods for distribution among the Rohingya refugees. He wanted to send a copy of the invoices to the donors. The present installment comprised of two thousand tons of relief goods. Another week would pass before they would be able to stack them in containers. Then the procedures to transfer the containers to the vessel would commence. Till then Solimulla was responsible for each and every item of the lot. Once they were loaded onto the vessel it became the responsibility of the freight forward company and the vessel’s captain to ensure the safety of the goods.
One at a time, Solimulla looked at the quantity and price of the items. When it matched with what he had on his list he would put a tick mark over the item mentioned. He was interrupted by the ringing noise of his land phone which had been locked up in his drawer to his left. He was a bit annoyed as he didn’t expect any call at this time of the day. From his purse he took the key in his hand in order to get to the phone. It stopped ringing the moment he was about to pick up the receiver in his hand. This red land phone had the option of caller ID and the list of miss calls displayed the earlier calls. He received several missed calls from that number. The man who was trying to reach him was very sympathetic to the plight of the Rohingyas. Only the patrons of Baitul Omar had the number of this land phone. He had no idea how Mr. ‘S’ had managed to get hold of this number. The port city of Dubai was the source of the number Mr. ‘S’ had been using. He also learned that originally, the number belonged to a person who had long been dead. Officially the number was supposed to be invalid, but somehow it was not. Solimulla assumed that this man was extremely powerful and influential. It would be quite difficult to prove that this number still existed.
Within a few minutes, the red telephone kept ringing again. From the other end of the line the heavy voice of Mr. ‘S’ alerted Solimulla as he said, “Hello.” Mr. ‘S’ never had the time or patience for a formal exchange of greetings. He was in the habit of beginning the conversation by referring to the topic he was interested in. In response to Solimulla’s’ hello, he said, “We have information that your donors are very apprehensive about the situation in Arakan. They want to convey a strong message to the military regime in Yangon.”
In a low voice Solimulla muttered, “I don’t have any information like that.”
“Why will anyone care to inform you about this? You are no big fish. Now listen, gather some bold Rohingya youths who are interested in an armed struggle against the military junta in Myanmar.”
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Instantly Solimulla responded, “I’ve no interest at all in such business___________”
Solimulla couldn’t finish what he wanted to say as Mr. ‘S’ resumed his diatribe. He said, “Do you really think that donors are convinced to donate funds because of your words? If I tell them, from tomorrow they won’t donate a dime to your organization. I’ve arranged a nice surprise for you so that you realize this. Within an hour, on behalf of Al Hayat Group, the largest donor for your organization, a million dollar will be deposited to the account of your organization. First get confirmation regarding this and then I’ll have another conversation with you.”
Solimulla reclined in his chair and closed his eyes when the line got disconnected. It was the third day of Ramadan. He had planned to work till asr adhan. However, after this call from Mr. ‘S’, everything seemed to be in a quagmire. He tried to focus on the task in hand, but it just wasn’t working. He looked at the wall clock. It was two thirty in the afternoon. Thoughts circled sporadically in his head. Some sort of paralysis had invaded his system. He never felt so tired. When he opened his eyes, the clock was pointing at three. In a daze, half an hour passed. He placed his fingers on the keyboard of his laptop on his desk. Sluggishly, he accessed Baitul Omar’s online account to check the transactions. He noticed a million-dollar deposit from Al Hayat as Mr. ‘S’ had said. He stared at the red telephone set in the drawer to his left. His trance was broken by the ringing noise of the telephone. He didn’t feel like saying ‘hello’ to Mr. ‘S’. Reluctantly as he held the receiver, Mr. ‘S’ was heard saying, “You know Solimulla, my men could not help notice that you just checked the balance of Baitul Omar’s account. I hope we’ve managed to convince you about our long arm. Trust me, it extends well beyond your imagination. Now tell me what you’ve been thinking about my proposal.”
Solimulla cleared his throat and said, “A person I know has connections with some rebels. I have no idea how deep the connection is. From that individual, I’ve come to know quite a few incidents that took place in Arakan. Don’t expect that things will turn out the way you want them to if I speak on your behalf.”
“Beggars have no choice. There’s another interesting proverb which has just crossed my mind. Money talks. I’m sure you know what they mean. If you speak on our behalf, whether it will work or not, is not the issue that worries me too much. I’m giving you two weeks. Within this period do as I’ve said, and then report to me about the progress. By the way, your acquaintance who has connections with the rebels, what’s his name?”
“Qadir.”
“Where is he now?”
“In Medina.”
“Wonderful! Then you could do a lot in a week. If you can manage this, you could expect a little gift from me. I won’t keep you busy, I know you have a lot of responsibilities. Get to work and take care.”
As soon as Mr. ‘S’ had hung up, Solimulla took out his mobile from his pocket and began searching for Abdullah Al Madani’s number from the call log. He felt that from the very beginning, he should have informed Madani about Mr. ‘S’. He could never deny this Saudi tycoon’s contribution to his success in Saudi Arabia. It wouldn’t be the right thing for him to get involved with Mr. ‘S’ without notifying Madani.