Calling Sehmat Page 13

  The guards at the gate stopped the car before allowing it to move into the portico. The driver sprinted out and opened the rear door. Mir, smartly dressed in a Major General’s uniform, stepped out, holding a bouquet of flowers in his right hand. He was aware of Sayeed’s absence, yet he had taken precautions. He adjusted the small pistol strapped to his ankle. He waited for a while in the hall before the servant ushered him to the drawing room.

  An emotionally wrought and mentally drained Iqbal received Mir, accepted his condolences and thanked him for the kind gesture. He had too much going on in his life to ask for the visitor’s details. Instead, he wanted the guest to leave soon. The visitor, though, didn’t appear to be in any mood to oblige. After paying his condolences, the General surprised Iqbal by requesting an audience with Sehmat.

  ‘You see, Iqbal, your good lady also happens to be one of the finest teachers around. I hear great stories about her from my grandson. Since I have come this far, I thought I would meet her for a while. It is a loss for the school that she has decided to give up teaching.’

  Iqbal was left speechless. He was aware that Sehmat was listening to the conversation. The enormity of her influence was pushing him deeper into depression.

  Standing behind the curtain, Sehmat monitored the conversation. She had recognized Mir from a distance. She stuffed the gun into her handbag and stepped into the hall. Poker-faced, she bowed gently and looked at Iqbal, as if seeking his permission to remain present. Without waiting for his reply, she occupied the chair that was placed slightly behind her husband’s. She could now observe the two men without being in Iqbal’s direct sight. Mir sprang out of his seat and bowed, keeping his eyes focused on the couple.

  Mir began his conversation by offering condolences and went on to appreciate her work as a teacher. ‘It might not be the right occasion, I am afraid, but I just could not stop myself from thanking you for doing us a big favour. Notorious as he was, my grandson has reversed one hundred and eighty degrees. I would like to compliment you and hope you will continue to guide children, especially in their formative years.’

  Mir’s eyes were focused on Sehmat, trying to extract whatever information he could from her remarkably composed face. Finding none, he pulled out a small note from his trouser pocket and handed it over to Sehmat. ‘He has written a small letter for you, expressing his grief over your family’s loss.’

  Sehmat took the note and read its contents while Iqbal watched her face from his seat. It was a small but precise note indicating the steps she had to take to facilitate her escape. After reading and absorbing its contents, Sehmat folded the paper and handed it back to Mir.

  ‘Please thank Riaz for such kind words. It is very sweet of him. Maybe you should have brought him along.’

  ‘Oh! He wanted to come and meet you. But this was not an appropriate time. Perhaps on some other occasion. Right now he is with his parents.’

  ‘Riaz is one of my favourite students. I wonder if I could meet him tonight? Iqbal and I are going to the city with another student, Anwar Khan, General Imtiaz Khan’s grandson. We hope that the company of children will help us recover from the depression and gloom. He could come with us for a short while.’

  ‘That would be great. He would love to spend some time with you. Though I am flying back in a while, my daughter-in-law will take him there. I am afraid it will have to be for a very short time.’

  Sehmat looked at Iqbal who remained motionless and non-committal. He wasn’t even aware of Sehmat’s plan to visit the shopping plaza. Presuming his silence to be affirmative, Sehmat continued. ‘All right, General, in three hours from now, we’ll meet near “Cross Plaza”.’

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Sayeed. You always take time out for the little ones. That’s what makes you so special and loved by the children. And that’s how you have won so many hearts. Thank you once again.’ Mir stood up, causing Iqbal to spring into action. He rushed to the door and flung it open for the General to exit. Mir shook hands with Iqbal. Before sitting in the car, he took a quick glance at the surroundings and then sank into the plush cushions.

  Mir was amazed at Sehmat’s performance. She had surpassed his expectations and had complete control over the situation. There was no fear in her voice; she was full of confidence and was calling the shots. Her decision to meet Mir at ‘Cross Plaza’ later in the evening showed the authority she wielded at the Sayeeds’. Even her husband, Iqbal, appeared to be in awe of her and was reduced to a mere spectator at the large haveli. ‘Well done, Sehmat, God bless you!’ Mir uttered. He knew that she was very close to being exposed. His own visit to the haveli was a drastic step he was forced to take in order to execute the rescue operation. He hoped Sehmat would follow his instructions strictly. The tiniest of mistakes could ruin the plan and endanger numerous lives.

  The markets lit up as darkness began to set in. Dressed in local Pathani attire, Mir sat in a small open restaurant, watching the movement of the pedestrians across the road. A few of his hand-picked agents kept watch at different positions, waiting for Sehmat to arrive. She walked in on schedule, wearing a burka that covered her from head to toe. Mir was able to recognize her as she was accompanied by a nervous Iqbal who looked handsome in a blue blazer.

  There was no sign of Anwar. The two stopped outside the shopping area and briefly spoke to each other before entering the well-lit market. Sehmat was scheduled to exit from the rear end of the plaza from where she was to be picked up by Mir’s agents and transferred to a safe location. Mir sighed with relief. All was going according to plan. He lifted his teacup and glanced at one of his men, signalling for the escape car to position itself.

  Suddenly his trained eyes spotted Pakistani agents. In an effort to be inconspicuous, the Pakistani counter-intelligence personnel had donned loose-fitting dark-coloured Pathani suits. Yet they stood out in the crowd due to their physique, short hair and the extra alertness in their body language. Their eyes were scanning the area occasionally but remained focused on Sehmat. There was a distinctive pattern in their movement that kept Sehmat and her husband within striking range. From the slight bulge in their shirts, it was evident that they were carrying small firearms. Observing their movements carefully from a distance, Mir noticed more agents forming an outer ring, frequently conversing on walkie-talkies.

  Mir weighed the pros and cons and realized that Sehmat’s escape would mean losing many innocent lives and, therefore, had to be abandoned. Reluctantly, he thrust his right hand into his side pocket and pressed the transmitter button thrice. Not too far away, two of his agents looked at their tiny monitors. Their orders were clear; but they looked bewildered and unsure and walked across the road to take a confirmation from their boss. They saw him nod imperceptibly and quickly returned to their positions at the exit door. They then signalled their contact inside the mall.

  As the Pakistani agents neared Sehmat, a small poisonous dart hit her in the neck. She fell on the spot, crashing into the entire row of groceries arranged on the shelves. The Pakistani agents stopped dead in their tracks. They were stunned and took a moment to recover from the unexpected turn of events. Belatedly scrambling to their senses, they scattered around the complex, attempting to trace the source of the attack. Minutes later, an explosion inside the shopping arcade shook the entire building, causing a near stampede as shoppers ran towards the exit for safety.

  The ensuing melee helped Mir and his agents to leave the site. Before getting into the car, he turned towards the shopping arcade. The bomb had exploded near Sehmat, sending her flying towards the shelves. She must have died instantly, he realized, but could not bring himself to imagine her body being blown into unrecognizable shreds of flesh. The very thought turned his stomach.

  Sehmat was like a daughter to him. Fighting a sense of dread, he thought about Tej and what he would tell her. He went over the entire exercise in his mind and wondered if his well-rehearsed plan had leaks that he, a seasoned intelligence officer, had failed to detect. He muttered abuses and deeply
regretted failing to save Hidayat’s only child. The escape cars converged in a colony on the outskirts of the city. The lanes of the colony were not well-lit, and so, allowed the passengers to get into the safe house without being noticed by neighbours.

  Huddled together in the large living room with his team shortly after, Mir took stock of the situation. War was inevitable. The Pakistani leadership had the surprise element on its side, and was confident of causing a serious setback to India. On that account alone, Sehmat’s efforts had been a great success. But Mir’s mind wandered back to Tej. What would he say to her? How would he break the news to her?

  A dark gloom descended in the room. Sehmat had been their most valuable asset. She had to be blown to pieces by her own people so that she could be saved from falling into alien hands. She had served her country selflessly, without raising an eyebrow. Not once did she flinch at the danger and risks to her life. She knew the importance of the entire mission. She had remained committed to the cause and died unsung, soon to be forgotten by both the nation and its people.

  Mir held his head between his hands and shut his eyes tight to block the disturbing scene from returning to his mind but failed miserably. Her image kept hounding him again and again. ‘I am sorry, dear Sehmat, but we had no choice,’ he said to himself repeatedly, his eyes moist with tears.

  There was a hushed silence in the house. None of the officers present had ever seen their boss so close to a breakdown. They were sitting silently like mourners beside a corpse, unable to utter a word. Suddenly, the sharp clang of the doorbell, followed by another, threw them out of their seats, breaking their reverie.

  They sprang into action, drawing their guns and preparing to shoot down the intruder. They were not expecting visitors. ‘Who could it be?’ they asked each other. They had carefully picked this particular safe house, away from prying eyes, in order to carry out the operations without being interrupted.

  Mir looked at his men and spoke through clenched teeth. ‘This could be a serious call. Kill as many or shoot yourself. No one surrenders. If you falter, remember Sehmat and her sacrifice.’

  The doorbell rang again, more urgently than the first time. It was louder, indicating that the visitor had no intention of leaving. Mir reached for the door and looked through the peephole. The grip on his pistol eased and the gun dropped to the floor. His tense face dramatically gave way to an expression of joy. Removing the safety chain, he unlocked the door and threw it open. Standing at the entrance, with the black burka slung over one hand, was Sehmat. Like the Mona Lisa, she wore a mysterious smile on her face.

  Mir held her by her shoulders and pulled her in before latching the door. Stepping inside, she gave a bemused look to the men who were beginning to emerge from the shadows. She was a vision. She was alive. She was back and safe. Mir could now go back to India and face his dearest friend’s wife.

  ‘So this is what you call a safe house. Great. Now when can I leave for my home, my India?’

  Mir’s beaming face was like a stream of sunshine in a dark tunnel. Sehmat looked at her mentor, her dark-blue eyes saying it all. She was herself surprised to be alive. She was glad that she had done her duty to the best of her ability and survived the test of time. And now she wanted to return to the safety and warmth of her watan.

  Mir’s expression suddenly clouded over. How did she manage to cheat death? And how did she find them, especially when she had no knowledge of the safe house?

  Sehmat read Mir’s thoughts. ‘Well,’ she explained, ‘I didn’t accompany Iqbal to the plaza. It was Munira who went with him. This was Iqbal’s idea. He was informed by his father that I was going to be arrested. But the General did not want the arrest to take place at his own haveli. Munira accompanied Iqbal because she was told that Mrs Suraiya Khan wanted to meet her. Anwar’s presence removed any suspicion that she might have had. Anwar was left behind in the car in the custody of the driver who was told to drive him back home.’

  ‘When Iqbal and Munira, who was clad in a burka, left the haveli, I followed them and saw the explosion from a distance. I saw you escaping in the getaway car soon after the blast. It was easy for me to tail your car, but I faced some difficulty once you entered the colony. Thereafter, it was my spy instincts, some common sense and a bit of luck that helped me locate your so-called safe house. After all, I am no less a spy than you, am I? Now when can you send me to my watan?’ Sehmat ended her monologue on a triumphant note, to the cheer and smiles of all present. They were astounded by her display of grit and determination. Their expressions were filled with high respect. She was one of them, yet had far exceeded their expectations.

  Words were insufficient. ‘Soon, very soon you’ll be home,’ was all Mir could manage as he gathered her in a tight embrace. Tears were now beginning to roll down his cheeks. But he did not care.

  18

  An air force transport plane touched down at the Delhi airport landing strip and taxied till it reached the VIP parking bay. Security forces cordoned off the area as soon as the aircraft came to a complete halt. A red carpet was rolled out with alacrity well before the door of the plane opened. An army brass band smartly marched into the enclosure playing ‘Jai Bharati’ and elegantly halted by the side of the dais that had been temporarily erected to felicitate the arriving VIP.

  As if controlled by a remote, their heads turned left in unison. Their gleaming boots moved rapidly to the matching rhythm of the drummers till they all fell into a formation. They came to a halt as the drumbeats stopped. Their heads were now aligned, awaiting the next order. The stage was set with military precision for the war hero.

  An accommodation ladder had been manually pushed towards the aircraft. Mir emerged first. He was wearing dark glasses and a black woollen overcoat. He stood briefly on the ladder and scanned the small gathering of high-level officials that had come to receive the special guest. Spotting a frail lady amongst the crowd, he waved, encouraging the middle-aged woman clad in a stark white sari to step out of the huddle. Sehmat, meanwhile, emerged from the aircraft and saw her mother slowly walking towards the ladder. Holding the side rail, she quickly stepped down and ran into her mother’s waiting arms. The two wept uncontrollably and remained in a tight embrace. There were tears of happiness, of reunion after a long separation. Loud clapping from the welcome party finally separated the two. Tej cupped Sehmat’s face in her hands and took a closer look at the battle-weary eyes. She kissed Sehmat’s cheeks before turning to face the officials who had by then lined up on the edge of the red carpet.

  As Sehmat walked past the officials, she was showered with rose petals and offered bouquets. She did not personally know anyone in the crowd but graciously accepted their greetings. Holding her mother by the shoulder, she moved past the gathering till she saw something familiar. Sehmat walked away from the laid path and came face-to-face with the fluttering tricolour. Without bothering about the assembled people who were watching her with amazement and curiosity, she knelt down and placed her head on the tarmac. Tears trickled down from Sehmat’s eyes. She kissed the cemented floor and whispered, ‘Oh my dear Motherland, how I missed you. Thank you for having me back.’

  The bandmaster was an old sergeant who had gone through the drill of according ceremonial reception to hundreds of dignitaries. He did not know Sehmat’s background but his experienced eyes were quick to realize that she was unique. As if on cue, he swung his baton sideways, bringing the band to an abrupt halt. Coming to attention simultaneously, he swung his hands in the air in quick succession, signalling his band to switch to a new beat. Moments later, the band was playing the national anthem. Sehmat stood up slowly and faced the dais. She was alone on the tarmac, standing tall and saluting the tricolour. She was back home, amongst her own people and in the safety and warmth of her own country.

  Sehmat folded her hands in acknowledgement as the band finished playing the anthem. Hard as she tried, she could not hide her tears. She went back to the carpeted track and began receiving bouquets and g
arlands till she reached the end of the row. She noticed a familiar pair of hands holding a bunch of her favourite yellow roses. She instantly recognized the fingers that were holding the stems ever so gently. She had held those hands before. Her heartbeat quickened as she looked up to face the tall and handsome figure.

  ‘Welcome home, Sehmat,’ she heard Aby saying, his words filled with emotion.

  The bouquets fell from her hands and scattered on the ground. She buried her head in Aby’s broad chest and sobbed uncontrollably.

  ‘You have no idea how much I have missed you, Sehmat. I am proud of you. The whole country is.’ Aby’s voice conveyed immeasurable pride. She smiled faintly but failed to control her sobs. Memories of another life came rushing back to her.

  Aby escorted her to the table on the dais for felicitations and came back to where Tej was standing. Mir watched her from a distance with moist eyes. He was happy to see Sehmat getting back into the fold of her loved ones. Taking the podium, he looked at Tej and wondered if he could even think of doing what the Khans had done for the country. He felt uncomfortable deep within. It dawned on him that while he could sacrifice himself a hundred times, he would find it difficult to send his children into the jaws of death.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began, ‘It is my esteemed privilege and honour to present to you a family that has set the highest standards of loyalty and dedication in service of our beloved country. Ordinary mortals like us would find it difficult to even think about what my late friend Hidayat and his patriotic family actually did for us. His daughter, Sehmat, went a step further and nearly sacrificed herself to fulfil his dreams. I have no words to describe the raw courage with which she steadfastly fulfilled her duty.’ Mir paused briefly. His mind went numb, his words dying on his lips. He could not stop himself from comparing his sense of loyalty with that of the Khans. Clearing his throat, he continued, ‘Before I proceed further, I would like to invite on stage the woman without whose encouragement and active participation Sehmat would not have succeeded in her mission.’ Mir stopped briefly again and turned his head towards Tej. Aby ushered Tej on to the stage amidst loud applause.