The Goat-Spy Letters I

On a far-off undiscovered isle the true False Messiah, the End-of-Times Deceiver, the One-Eyed, Dajjal aka Antichrist awaits his foretold advent before Doomsday to declare his kingdom on Earth and convert men to his evil faith . His agent, the goat-spy Jassasa, sent on the mission to identify the designated land where Dajjal must appear has searched for it all over, from the conservative lands of American Midwest to the war zones of Africa. After many a failure he finally smells success.

Dispatch 1

Dateline: Pakistan
To His Most Immaculate One-Eyed Excellency in Hiding in the Far-off Isle of B

Your Lordship, 

A long time has passed since we parted. I am sure that after all this time you never expected a letter from me, your emissary to the race of men, your plenipotentiary to the inhabited world. I am sure you must have thought I was waylaid, or else, that I was blinded and distracted from my mission by the ephemeral charms of this doomed world. Or, worse still, that I had forgotten my Master. You might even have muttered with a painful sigh, “Alas, my Jassasa, the kid I raised from this small, the one I trained in trickery and disguise at considerable expense, he whom I trusted to be my second eye and my ears, has failed me.”

Well, Master, here I am; forever alert to my mission responsibilities, and doing your bidding as only I could do best. The reason for my long silence was simple: while you daily trained me in espionage and in managing your foretold advent, you did not prepare me for the long journey ahead. Nor did you ever inform me that I am made of mutton, a thing in strong demand here. Bad luck accompanied me throughout my trek. There were several attempts on my life and I was exposed to all kind of trouble and travail. But my mastery of disguise stood me in good stead. Sometimes garbed as a man, sometimes dressed as a dame, I plied a number of trades, both noble and profane, to keep horn and hide together. This account of my difficult journey and the trials I keep for another time (perhaps when you have joined me, and I am eating baby corn and cashews off your hand as before).

Now for some good news: I have found the designated land.

You will recall that when you put me on the steamer, you kindly stored it with enough foodstuffs to last ten ravenous goats as many journeys around the world. But in your excitement at the launch of my mission, you forgot to provision for a thing of equal importance: a map or landmark to help me find my way. You had told me many times that the world is a small place. You perhaps believe it to be a truth. I also put my store in it. Allow me now to tell you, my Master, that I found the world a rather large place. It is crisscrossed with troubled lands pulsating with strife. The pre-modern world in which you schooled me has been replaced with a very wicked age. There is much evil in every place. Many lands recommend themselves to me. But I kept hearing about greater mischief elsewhere. The race of men is a very restive species for sure. It would have been impossible to find the right place were it not for a lucky break: soon after my arrival here, in fact, on my first day, I stumbled upon a political conspiracy – a diabolic plot to kill you. Well, it was about as large a landmark as any. I knew I had arrived. I am now mixing with the masses and making my investigations. I would have before long a clear picture of the game. Each day brings such fantastic revelations that my eyes have lost the capacity to open any wider. I would share some of these with you in my next dispatch. You might have to delay your advent by a few weeks. More anon.

Your own,
Jassasa

Musharraf Ali Farooqi is an author and translator. This is a first column in a new series from Pakistan