After his meeting with Abu-Muzammil, Babar went to the Everest Presidency Hotel in Thamel, where he booked two rooms for the three fidayeen. By booking them into a separate hotel, he ensured that if any one of the three hotels where the Lashkar operatives were staying was searched by the Nepalese police or counter-terror authorities, at least two of the three sets would have time to escape.

That evening, Babar checked out of his hotel and took a cab to the bus stop in Thamel on Lekhnath Marg. On the way, he picked up the three fidayeen from the Everest Presidency. Abu-Muzammil had earlier given him the Indian identity documents that had been made for the three Pakistani fidayeen by forging the voter ID cards taken from Atharv and his two associates. The documents would help the three enter India.

The twenty-one-seater deluxe bus left at 8.30 p.m. from Leknath Marg for Birgunj on the Nepal–India border. Each of the four tickets cost around 960 Nepalese rupees.

‘Sleep easy, brother. In two hours, we will stop to drink tea and eat tandoori chicken,’ Sohail said soon after they boarded. Akbar and Irfan broke into hearty laughter. Sohail and Babar joined them. Sohail’s comment had broken the ice between the fidayeen and Babar.

As the bus zipped past forests with the silhouettes of mountains rising darkly behind them, Babar, who was drifting off to sleep, suddenly saw the fair, cheery face of Rifaat in front of him. He jerked awake and sat up in his seat as he remembered Rifaat – Rifaat, whose smile spread like the aroma of earth after rains, the one who smelt of jasmine, whose voice sounded like a distant waterfall in the forest, who said unexpected things, whose beauty was like that of a valley of flowers. Rifaat – who had asked him to choose between her and jihad, whom he had left in the cold, whom he had abandoned for jihad…

‘What happened, brother? All well?’ Sohail asked with concern.

‘I am fine, just got jolted out of sleep suddenly, and some memories rushed back,’ Babar offered, attempting to shrug off his companion’s concern.

‘I hope you did not remember someone? Your face has turned pale. You look like a ghost! Memories are bad, memories inflict pain. Especially if they are of those who live in you,’ Sohail said, his voice trailing away.

‘Okay, Devdas, good night,’ Babar said lightly.

‘Good night,’ Sohail responded and smiled.

Babar was trying to sleep when Sohail began humming:

Aa bhi jaa, aa bhi jaa, ae sub-aah aa bhi jaa

Raat ko kar vida,

Dilruba aa bhi jaa

Aa bhi jaa, aa bhi jaa, ae sub-aah aa bhi jaa

Raat ko kar vida,

Dilruba aa bhi jaa …

The haunting lyrics were from a song that was a 2002 chartbuster from the Bollywood movie Sur and spoke of unrequited love.