When the news crackled about the Jaffar Express being seized, a cold knot tightened in stomachs across Pakistan. We’ve all seen the newsreels – those agonizing hostage situations that drag on, the fear etched on faces, the desperate waiting. When the news broke about the Jaffar Express being seized, a cold knot tightened in stomachs across Pakistan. We’ve all seen the newsreels – those agonizing hostage situations from across the globe, situations that felt miles away, happening to other people. Suddenly, jarringly, it wasn’t some blurry crisis flickering on the TV anymore. It was our train – the one that could have been carrying your neighbor, your cousin, your own family. Our people are trapped inside. And let’s be honest, that familiar shadow of worry – the ‘what if?’ that gnaws at you – it definitely flickered through everyone’s mind. Could we really do this? Could we bring them all back safe, against odds that seemed stacked so high? Could anyone, against such ruthless odds, bring everyone home safe? But what happened next wasn’t just a military operation; it felt like a nation holding its breath and then, slowly, letting it out in a collective sigh of relief and immense pride. In a world used to drawn-out, often tragic standoffs, the Pakistan Army’s response to the Jaffar Express hijacking was nothing short of breathtaking in its speed and effectiveness. And it wasn’t just effective; it was carried out with a level of skill and courage that’s deeply, profoundly reassuring. Think about it: the terrorists of the Balochistan Liberation Army (BLA) weren’t playing by any rules. They’d deliberately targeted ordinary people – families, travellers – turning a train carriage into a cage. They hid behind women and children, a tactic so cowardly it chills you to the bone. We heard about suicide bombers in the mix too. It was designed to be a messy, brutal affair, the kind that can unravel into unimaginable tragedy. Into this terrifying chaos stepped the Special Services Group, our SSG, and especially those heroes in the Zarar Unit. These aren’t just names and uniforms; they’re individuals, flesh and blood, who chose to run towards the danger when everyone else would instinctively run away. They’re the guys who put themselves directly in harm’s way so that others – strangers – could live. It’s a kind of bravery that’s hard to fully grasp unless you really stop and think about it. The men of the Zarar Unit and every soldier involved in that operation are not just soldiers; they’re our protectors, our heroes. Reports filtered out about how methodically, how painstakingly, they went about clearing each carriage. Imagine the sheer tension in those moments. Every rustle, every shadow, a potential threat. Hostages terrified, and terrorists dug in. And in the middle of it all, these SSG soldiers, moving with incredible precision and, you just know, hearts pounding, but focus laser-sharp. We learned about the snipers, those unseen eyes in the chaos, picking off threats with almost impossible accuracy. This wasn’t just some firefight, some exchange of bullets. It was about ice-cold clarity in the heat of chaos. Imagine the pressure – every move, every blink, every breath measured against the razor’s edge of life and death for those hostages trapped inside. This wasn’t a video game fantasy; these were real families, real souls hanging in the balance. And what’s truly breathtaking is the level of sheer professionalism, that almost unbelievable coolness under fire, that our soldiers displayed. It’s genuinely awe-inspiring when you think about it – humans performing at that level of focus and courage. And here’s the truly incredible thing: during that intense, chaotic operation to reclaim the train, not a single hostage was harmed. Let that sink in. Think about the complexities, the dangers, the sheer volatility of the situation. And yet, through it all, the SSG managed to achieve their objective while protecting every single innocent life amid the rescue. Of course, we can’t forget the awful truth: 21 precious lives were lost before the army even had the chance to intervene – taken by the terrorists in their initial barbaric act. That loss is a deep wound, a stark reminder of the cruelty these groups are capable of. But it also underscores something else: that without the swift, decisive action of the Pakistan Army, the tragedy could have been so, so much worse. They stopped the bleeding. They prevented more families from shattering. Finding out the attack was planned and directed from across the border in Afghanistan? It’s a harsh reality check. It tells us that the fight isn’t over and that threats are still out there, seeking to destabilize our country and hurt our people. But it also makes the Jaffar Express operation even more meaningful. It wasn’t just about rescuing hostages on a train that day; it was about sending a message. A message to anyone, anywhere, who thinks they can bring terror to Pakistan: you will be met with strength, skill, and unwavering resolve. The sigh of relief we felt as a nation when it was over wasn’t just relief; it was a surge of pride. Pride in our army, in their courage, in their sheer professionalism. They didn’t just follow orders; they embodied the best of what it means to protect and serve your country. The men of the Zarar Unit and every soldier involved in that operation are not just soldiers; they’re our protectors, our heroes. They reminded us, in the most powerful way possible, that even in the darkest of times, there is strength, there is hope, and there are those who stand ready to defend us with everything they have. And that, as Pakistanis, is something to hold onto, something to be deeply, truly grateful for. The writer is a freelance columnist.