Calling Sehmat Page 2

  ‘May I help you?’

  Turning around, Tej found herself looking into the light-brown eyes of a stranger. He was tall, about an inch or two above six feet and wore an off-white Pathani suit. She was struck by his openness and simplicity.

  Smiling, Tej asked him about the famed Kashmiri shawls on display. The man moved about the shop with a quiet authority, which made Tej believe that he was the owner of the sprawling emporium. After selecting a few delicately woven pashminas, Tej made for the cash counter to settle her bills.

  ‘Are you visiting Kashmir for the first time, Ma’am?’ His voice was now soft and inquiring.

  She stopped to respond.

  ‘No, I have come here before and it is always peaceful and soothing,’ Tej replied, a slight smile playing on her lips. Wanting to hear more of his rich voice, Tej went on to tell him about her holiday and how she loved the Valley.

  Conversation between the two flowed easily. Soon, they introduced themselves to each other. ‘I’m Hidayat,’ he said.

  ‘And I am Tejashwari. My friends call me Tej,’ she responded.

  ‘Can I call you Tej?’ he was quick to ask.

  ‘Please do,’ she replied, clutching her packet of shawls and moving towards the payment counter. She glanced at the bill, looked at it again, and then at Hidayat questioningly.

  ‘Can’t make profit from friends, can I? Hence the discount,’ he responded smiling.

  Hesitantly, Tej paid the money, thanked her host and headed for the large door of the emporium. A slow warmth filled her heart as she walked out. Somewhere deep inside, she was surprised that a brief meeting with a complete stranger could arouse such strong feelings in her. With a sinking heart, Tej realized that this could be the last time she would see him or hear his alluring voice.

  Hidayat stood at the door of his shop with a bemused expression on his face. He could not hold himself back. He addressed her again, the door chime tinkling in the background. ‘Can we meet in the evening? I could take you to some interesting shops to select souvenirs to take back home.’

  Tej found her voice caught in her throat.

  So this was not the last time she would meet him?

  Silently, she nodded. Her heart was wildly beating as she walked away. There was a strange excitement in her heart and a desire to meet him again. She walked some distance, then stopped and turned back to look at the boutique, only to find Hidayat still standing at the entrance, waving at her. She lifted her hand in acknowledgement and moved on. The melodious door chime was still ringing in her ears when she entered her hotel.

  That evening, Hidayat rushed through his daily chores of balancing the shop accounts and locking up the emporium. He arrived at the hotel well before sundown and found Tej reading a magazine in the plush hotel lobby. That she was surprised to see him at the hotel was visible on her face. Knowing that her parents would not take kindly to a stranger taking their daughter on a guided tour, she hurriedly went up to him and asked him to wait while she convinced her parents about a short trip to the marketplace by herself. She was able to do that and in a few minutes Tej was back in the lobby, her face slightly flushed.

  Slowly the two made their way to the marketplace. They took a leisurely walk around the lake, dodging tourists. Their slow-paced walk was often interrupted by locals who greeted Hidayat, some even asking him for his advice on investing in business and personal matters. It seemed strange to Tej that a man so young was so sought after by not only those his age, but by older people as well. Tej realized that Hidayat was not only respected but also loved by the folks in the city.

  They spoke about mundane things at first. However, with each passing minute they became more and more comfortable with each other and the initial awkwardness disappeared. The sun was beginning to set and knowing that it would soon be time for her to go back to the hotel, Tej picked up a few scarves at random, paid for them, and they continued on their way back. She knew she would have to show some kind of purchase to her parents.

  In the brief time they spent together, they exchanged much more than conversation. Looking into Tej’s eyes, Hidayat could feel that she was not indifferent towards him. His heart was crying out to confess his feelings to her, but he did not want to scare her. Could he dare to tell her how she had captured his heart when she had walked into his shop that morning? Would he frighten her by his admission? What if she disliked him?

  Engrossed in conversation, they did not realize that they had walked a long distance and left the marketplace behind. They were now at the far end of the famed Dal Lake that lay blissfully placid, away from the hustle and bustle of the shops. The sky had spread a riot of colours in orange, pink and hues of purple. The trees around it stood like mute witnesses to the beauty and beyond them stretched the hills. A chill in the air added to the romance of the surroundings. Tej had visited Kashmir several times before, but on this occasion, Hidayat seemed to have transformed the lake into a poet’s romantic verse. When they parted, they felt as if they were leaving something behind.

  That night, as Tej prepared to go to bed, she replayed the day’s incidents in her mind. She felt that she had connected with Hidayat at a very special level. Not wanting to lose a friendship that had just begun, she decided to request her parents to extend the vacation. The next morning, over breakfast, Tej convinced her father to stay on in the Valley for a few more days. Then, pleased with herself, she slipped out of the hotel and quickly walked towards Hidayat’s shop as was agreed between them the previous day. This was the first of their series of secret rendezvous. When Tej’s vacation drew to an end, they exchanged addresses, and Hidayat promised to visit her in Delhi.

  It was difficult for them to stay apart, and Tej was overjoyed when she received a letter from Hidayat informing her about his visit to the capital. She began counting the days to his arrival.

  Soon that day arrived and they met. From then on, the two met every day and talked for many hours. Hidayat discussed his business and Delhi’s fast-paced life compared to the idyllic and simple life in Kashmir. When he left for the Valley, the bond with his lady-love had strengthened. The two continued to exchange letters that seemingly spoke of only the weather and other unimportant topics as each tried to read the unsaid words between the lines and interpret them.

  It was scorching hot in Delhi when Tej and her mother left for Kashmir the following summer. This time around, Tej and Hidayat spent more time with each other, sharing their dreams and aspirations. They had known each other for a little longer than a year and words between them flowed effortlessly, so did their feelings. But both kept quiet and avoided the all-important issue as they were not sure how the other person would react.

  Kashmir was alive with colours and birdsong for the young couple. Even Hidayat, who had lived most of his life in the Valley, began admiring Kashmir through the eyes of a poet. The days passed swiftly, and he realized that soon he would have to reveal his feelings. It had to be now or never. So a week before she was due to leave, Hidayat took her for a boat ride around Dal Lake. He was nervous, looking for the right words as he rowed the boat. He looked at her and found her admiring the view, oblivious to what was going on in his mind.

  ‘You love this place, don’t you?’ he asked.

  She nodded. ‘I am sad that this vacation is coming to an end.’

  ‘How about staying here forever?’

  Tej looked back at him questioningly.

  He did not answer immediately. When he spoke, there was a quiver in his voice, ‘I want you to stay. I love you and want to cherish our bond for the rest of our lives. Tej, I have loved you ever since you walked into my shop last year. Please don’t misunderstand me. Have I scared you?’

  Not knowing what to say, Tej’s eyes were fixed on the wooden plank at the bottom of the boat. She was stunned into silence.

  Hidayat immediately began to feel guilty and wished he had not said what he did. Panicking, he addressed her again, ‘Have I said something to upset you? Please don’t be ang
ry. It’s just that I have never felt anything like this before! Please don’t misunderstand my motives. I just know I love you.’

  Tej looked into his eyes. Somewhere deep inside she had felt the same attraction and was happy that he finally spoke about his feelings. Clearing her throat, she whispered softly, ‘I feel the same way too . . .’ Her face turned pink as she blushed, shyly smiling.

  It took a lot of self-control on Hidayat’s part not to whoop with joy. Instead he looked at her, his face filled with expressions of joy and relief. Taking her hands and clasping them in his, he said, ‘Thank you, Tej, for filling my heart with such love!’ Tej could only smile in return. She had also begun to worry by then. Being the only child, her parents had pinned lots of hopes on her and had been looking for a suitable match. She was aware of how her parents were focused on finding a match only from the Punjabi community. And here she was, courting a Muslim boy, that too from a trouble-torn state like Kashmir.

  Oblivious of the ensuing battle inside Tej’s mind, Hidayat rowed the shikara with ease, enjoying the boat ride more than ever before. Each time the oar cut the water at a perfect angle, it gently pushed the boat ahead; the water droplets falling from the wooden blade back into the lake. Seated in front of her, it was impossible to keep his eyes away from Tej’s beautiful face. ‘I love you,’ he said repeatedly until Tej too mustered her courage and acknowledged her feelings.

  2

  Their love blossomed and culminated in marriage, much against the wishes of their families. Braving boycotts from both sides, the young couple settled down to married life. Sehmat was born after two years and brought along boundless joy, laughter and warmth to the already content household. Conscious of the raised eyebrows due to their cross-cultural alliance, both Tej and Hidayat worked hard to bring up their daughter, teaching and instilling in her the real meaning of secularism.

  Being educated and sensible, Hidayat and Tej kept themselves away from undue religious influences and dictates. Neither parent forced any religion on their daughter. Instead, they encouraged her to understand different faiths and appreciate the importance of humanity, integrity, patriotism and honour.

  Sehmat grew up watching her parents practise two different religions yet live in complete harmony under the same roof. Neither infringed on the other’s choice of religious duties. The room set aside for prayers and meditation had pictures of Mecca, Hindu gods and goddesses as well as other saints and sufis. Sehmat was particularly fascinated by Meerabai’s hymns and often joined her mother in singing them.

  ‘God is one,’ her parents told her repeatedly. ‘And He is not someone who can be summoned by merely holding the Holy Quran and Gita or wearing a tilak on the forehead. He is without a predefined form and resides inside you. He is omnipresent and can only be seen by the purity of one’s mind and heart.’ Little did she realize at that time that these very values would make her one of the most respected and trusted citizens of her country.

  Sehmat was greatly influenced by her father. Hidayat’s generosity and positive thinking were legendary in Srinagar. One particular trait of her father, which not only appealed to her but also made her want to emulate him, was his undying love for his watan, his country, India. Father and daughter would go on long walks amidst huge chinar trees, one of their most cherished pastimes. Sehmat would listen to her father with rapt attention as they would trek on the narrow pathways in the Valley and learn by heart lessons on patriotism, culture and traditions.

  It was during one of those walks that Hidayat, totally consumed by what he was teaching her, stopped abruptly, took her hands in his and said in a voice wrought with emotion, ‘We are what we are thanks to our motherland, Sehmat. Nothing can be more disgraceful than to be disloyal to her. I was born here and I must give my best to this soil. When I merge into it, my conscience should be proud of having lived an honest, faithful and grateful life.’

  That evening the young Sehmat saw a different Hidayat. She met a man who was passionate and emotive beyond her imagination and respected humanity more than any religion on earth. For the first time in her life she understood what watan really meant to him. This observation was to play a crucial part in her life in the years to come.

  As she grew up, Sehmat learnt of her father’s role in easing tensions between Hindus and Muslims and his efforts towards spreading harmony between the communities. Hidayat was the final word in settling disputes and conflicts and would always help those in real financial need. Many Kashmiri Pandits would narrate to her incidents where Hidayat’s intervention had helped in building bridges between followers of the two faiths.

  Thereafter higher education took Sehmat away from the Valley to Delhi, where, besides pursuing her graduation and playing the violin in her spare time, she also learnt Indian classical dance. When she would return to Kashmir for a vacation, she would be regaled with more tales of her father’s timely intervention and both communities’ indebtedness to her family for spreading peace and harmony in the Valley. The number of such stories increased each time Sehmat visited Kashmir.

  Meanwhile, Hidayat’s reputation and goodwill as an honest and upright businessman spread far and wide. He was an icon of sorts in the region. His enterprise and large-heartedness catapulted him and his business to the other side of the barbed wire, which, by virtue of the demarcations made post Partition, was now called Pakistan. Hidayat went across regularly to attend to his chores, and add more friends, contracts and businesses to his strength, blissfully unaware that his actions were being closely monitored far away in a plush office in the capital of India. This was the Indian intelligence agency RAW (Research and Analysis Wing). Some senior officials approached him and sought his help to establish an information-gathering network inside Pakistan. Apart from his extensive network, it was Hidayat’s legendary love and devotion towards his country that made him an ideal candidate for the purpose. His flourishing business establishments across the border could provide the perfect foil needed for their operations.

  Hidayat readily agreed to the proposal even though he was made aware of the risks that his acceptance could invite. He even went a step further by suggesting innovative ideas for gathering information. His merchandise, especially liquor, used to be shipped across the border due to the prevailing prohibition in Pakistan. He proposed to decrease the quantity of each shipment but increase the frequency, thus helping reduce the time gap in retrieving information from across the border. Using his business acumen, he painstakingly spread his network into the cities of Lahore, Islamabad and Multan, and also made inroads into the Pakistani army brass. During the 1965 Indo–Pak war, Hidayat’s network became a major source of information gathering. Despite the unsophisticated communication systems of those years, his trusted team devised innovative techniques to transfer huge amounts of confidential documents manually into India, thereby saving the lives of hundreds of Indian soldiers.

  While Pakistan experienced humiliating defeat at the hands of the Indian armed forces in this war, Hidayat won the heart and confidence of the Indian government by rendering commendable services. Strangely, he was able to maintain his credibility across the border too, and, despite the defeat, the Pakistani government did not suspect his involvement. Growing from strength to strength, he further expanded his business chain and deepened the penetration into Pakistani army camps by strengthening the supply chain and providing free liquor to the Generals. Prohibition across the border not only added to his profits, it also helped grow his business.

  The dawn of 1969, however, brought in its wake a rude shock for the Khans. During a routine medical check-up, a lump in Hidayat’s neck was diagnosed to be cancerous. Further investigations and tests revealed that the deadly disease had spread its tentacles beyond control. Tej was shattered by the news but Hidayat seemed unperturbed and indifferent to the development. His mind was focused elsewhere.

  Trouble was brewing in the army camps across the border. Hidayat had been steadily receiving reports confirming that the other side
was planning a confrontation. He kept grumbling to Tej about how unhappy he was with the bad timing of his ailment. Much to Tej’s consternation, instead of paying attention to his failing health, Hidayat put all his energies and efforts into accumulating data and transferring it to the intelligence officers in India.

  East Pakistan had by then become a sore point for Pakistan. Egged on by misguided warlords with vested interests, Pakistan’s leadership accused India of fomenting trouble in the state. Tej was privy to the new developments, having herself transferred vital information to New Delhi on several occasions, but her husband’s indifference towards his illness tormented her.

  The very thought of losing Hidayat without making any efforts of treating him medically weighed heavily on her mind. Besides this, watching him in extreme pain unnerved her. Finally, Tej gathered the courage to dial a contact in New Delhi. The government machinery began to move quickly. Twenty-four hours later, when Hidayat walked into his oak-panelled study after namaz, he found two immaculately dressed officials waiting for him. Both men were high-ranking officials from the Indian intelligence. Having interacted with them for many years, Hidayat knew them well. Yet he was surprised by their visit. Manav Chowdhary, code-named Mir, was the head of RAW. It was he who had first approached Hidayat a decade ago for setting up the information-gathering network in Pakistan. Both men had grown to admire and respect each other immensely.

  The two men continued to look at each other, neither knowing how to break the silence. It was Mir who finally broke the spell. He reached out to Hidayat, clasped his hand in his own and looked at his old friend. Anticipating the purpose of their visit and picking up on the unsaid words, Hidayat glanced at his wife. He knew what she’d done. A soft flush of guilt reflected on Tej’s face.