Calling Sehmat Page 3

  Mir’s voice shook slightly as he struggled to control his emotions. Hidayat was not only an important link, he was a man of honour and a dear friend.

  ‘We have arranged for appointments with doctors in America, Hidayat,’ Mir began. ‘They will treat you and . . .’

  Hidayat cut him short in a polite but firm voice. ‘I know my chances of surviving this illness are nil, Mir. And you are also aware of a big disaster that is approaching our nation even as we speak.’

  Hidayat withdrew his hand from Mir’s, walked to the window and pointed to an object in the distance. The other three in the room quickly looked in that direction. Hidayat’s gaze went to the national flag that was fluttering gently in the soft breeze in his neatly manicured lawn.

  ‘Mir, you see that beautiful tricolour? I want to see it flying high when death comes knocking at my door. I have served my mother the best I could and I wish to die in her lap, in my home and definitely not in a foreign country. Let me fade into the corridors of history in peace, in the oblivion of my country’s soil and not in an alien land. Besides, there is still a whole lot to be done. While Tej can handle the operations from the Indian side, someone very reliable has to take charge in Pakistan and settle down in the grooves across the border before it’s too late. We have little time for anything else, least of all, my health.’

  Accepting a cup of tea from Tej, Mir looked at his friend. He knew how important Hidayat was to RAW. He was also aware of the vacuum Hidayat’s death would create; to find someone as credible as Hidayat on such short notice was an impossible feat. He wanted Hidayat to get better so he tried to push him further in the hope that he would go to the US for treatment. ‘I’m afraid, Hidayat, we do not have anyone who can replace you. Besides, the Pakistanis would not trust anyone in a hurry. They’ll smell a rat immediately. In your supervision the operation will remain under the guise of your business umbrella. Even a small mistake at this point would mean the end of the entire network that you have so painstakingly built over so many years. It would also mean grave risks to the lives of the numerous contacts, which we cannot afford at this stage. It is best that we let the matter be put on hold while you go for your treatment. You have done more than your share for the country. Now let us help you fight your battle. I have spoken to the best doctors in the US and they have suggested immediate surgery. We have an outside chance and we must take it.’ Mir’s voice appeared steady but he could not hide the strain of maintaining equanimity. He had worked closely with Hidayat for so many years, they’d developed trust and friendship, and it was hard to believe that he was dying.

  Hidayat seemed oblivious to what Mir was saying and continued to be in a different world. He also knew that his chances of surviving the dreaded disease were slim. At the same time it was bothering him that there was something brewing across the border. He wondered how he could find a solution to all this. He had a distant look in his eyes, his mind racing in circles, searching for a viable candidate to fill his shoes. For years he had painstakingly toiled to build an effective communications network, and he was simply not prepared to let it go down the drain. A solution, however, came to him out of the blue. Hidayat walked towards Tej. He placed his hands on her delicate shoulders and looked into the depths of the eyes of the only woman he had ever loved with so much intensity that it frightened her. Tej, terrified of the consequences of his illness, also instinctively realized that Hidayat had something up his sleeve that might not be to her liking.

  Breaking the brief silence, Hidayat said, ‘I know it’s risky Tej, but it is by taking chances that one becomes brave. You know the gravity of the present situation as well as I do and you will therefore appreciate the seriousness of what is developing in Pakistan. Having come so far, we need to continue with our task and not stop in our efforts to thwart their plans. My illness has come as a cruel shock but we have an even bigger crisis at hand. We can still save hundreds of innocent lives. And to achieve that, we need someone absolutely reliable who can take my place immediately, without rousing suspicion in the enemy camps; someone who can take the baton from me and continue the good work.’

  As Hidayat paused for breath, Tej could see that he was struggling with his conscience. Her chest suddenly constricted and her heartbeat quickened. She was almost certain that her husband’s next sentence would cause her endless pain. The tension in the room was tangible. Mir sensed it too but was unable to even remotely fathom what Hidayat had in his mind. He thus remained a mute spectator. Hidayat moved closer to Tej with the intention of comforting her from the blow he was about to deliver. In a soft, almost choked voice he said, ‘Do you think our Sehmat would fit the bill?’

  3

  Everyone in the room was shocked into silence. Tej burst into tears. The very thought of pushing her only child into a venture that was filled with danger at every possible turn was heartbreaking. She controlled the sobs that threatened to rack her body and wiped her tears. She felt drained of all strength. She hugged Hidayat and held him in a tight embrace. As a mother she had equal rights but a decision contrary to Hidayat’s was bound to inflict enormous injury to his self-esteem and pride. At the same time, it was difficult for her to see her daughter precariously placed at the very heart of danger. She also knew that this decision was not an easy one for her husband. Fighting their own battles within, the two clung to each other motionlessly, fully aware of the pain the other was undergoing.

  Dusk had begun to creep up outside the window. The brilliant light was now meekly submitting to the velvety darkness of night.

  ‘Thank you, Tej,’ Hidayat continued, supporting her frail body. ‘I knew that I could count on you.’

  The visitors were stunned into disbelief.

  In his entire career Mir had never witnessed a commitment such as the one that was being displayed by the Khans. Speechless, he sank into the plush leather couch and stared in bewilderment at the head of the Khan family. Right then Hidayat walked up to him. Seeing Hidayat approach, he rose jerkily but stood rooted to the spot. He seemed unsure of what to say to the man who was willing to sacrifice his only child, his very beloved daughter, for the service of the nation. Hidayat embraced his old friend. However, when he spoke again, his voice was devoid of sadness and emotions. ‘Please look after Sehmat as your own daughter, Mir. From now on, I leave my most precious possession in your care. We have brought her up with a lot of love. We have taught her what we have always believed in. It would be risky for a young woman to take up such a mission but we have no choice. She is the only person who I think can take my place without attracting undue attention from the authorities across the border. And since she is my daughter, it will be readily accepted that she is running the business due to my failing health. Death and danger will shadow her, but the show must go on. We have a long road ahead and we must keep on running till we reach our destination.’

  Hidayat’s voice had a firmness of purpose to it. Mir could see a man in a hurry to see his mission accomplished, a soldier so possessed by his love for his country that he was willing to sacrifice his only offspring.

  Tej’s mind was also in a whirl. Looking past the men, she gazed at the darkness that had settled outside the window. She could not visualize her beautiful daughter being thrust into the enemy camp. Sehmat’s childhood unfolded in her mind like pictures in an album. The baby she had given birth to, the curious toddler, the animated girl, bubbling with excitement and enthusiasm each passing year. How Sehmat had charmed everyone she met and how she had grown into a beautiful, yet modest young woman!

  Tej was aware of the bond the father and daughter shared and was certain that Sehmat would accept her father’s decision without protest. But would she be able to stand the vigorous training necessary for the job? What if her secret operations were exposed? Tej shivered at the thought. Her mind raced in many directions but she could not come up with a strong enough excuse to argue. Deep within, the mother in her visualized the worst. And as she did, her heart ached even more.

&nb
sp; Meanwhile, oblivious to these developments, hundreds of kilometres away, in the bustling city of New Delhi, a young woman was sprawled on the bed, her hair spread across it, reading a book. Sehmat was relaxing. She had just come back from college after a gruelling session of dance lessons and wanted to do nothing but read. Sehmat glanced at the alarm clock by her bedside as she turned a page of the gripping book. A soft groan escaped her as she realized she was late for her evening walk.

  Swinging her long, shapely legs off the bed, Sehmat slipped her feet into her slippers and made for the bathroom that she shared with her room-mate, Mitali. Both women were classmates and classical dance was a common interest between them.

  But that was where the similarity ended. While Mitali was an accomplished dancer, driven by the ambition to achieve fame and recognition, Sehmat danced because it was her passion. Her hands and feet moved in deft coordination with the rest of her body because her soul directed them to. Dance was like a daily prayer for her that made her feel complete.

  Though the girls shared the same room, they were not as close as most room-mates in a college hostel are. Mitali was more of an extrovert, while Sehmat was an introvert and took a long time to open up to people. Mitali was of medium height and had a perfect honey complexion; Sehmat was tall and had fair, translucent skin that turned beet red at the slightest provocation. But that she possessed a supreme confidence about herself was evident from her deep-blue eyes, which reflected courage and resolve.

  Watching Sehmat was like witnessing poetry in motion. Her peaches and cream complexion, combined with the sharp features common to those from the Valley, was breathtaking. Her movements were effortless which gave an impression that she was gliding instead of walking. To the men who looked at her, she seemed like she had descended from the heavens and did not belong to this world. Her biggest assets were her big, doe-shaped blue eyes; they shone with wit, intelligence and occasional mischief. Quite naturally, Sehmat was the most sought-after girl in college. While men vied for her attention, the women did not know how to react to such beauty and humility. She was not vain despite the fact that she was the most beautiful woman for miles around. If anything, she downplayed her beauty by blending into the crowd. She consciously dressed in simple, loose-fitting clothes to avoid drawing undue attention. She also refrained from socializing and restricted herself from making too many friends.

  Many speculated that she had a boyfriend back home since she did not encourage the men. Only her close friends knew that Sehmat did not have any male friends. Looking at her parents, she knew that true love was sacred and it existed. She was also convinced that it would cross her path some day. In her mind she was very clear about the kind of man she would fall in love with. She would see him in her dreams, approaching her and filling her life with meaning, love and strength. She knew he would sweep her off her feet and take her away from the ordinary world to paradise. Though she had a perfect picture of the attributes of her dream man, his face eluded her.

  But Sehmat was willing to wait. Her friends often joked about her fantasy, but she believed he would arrive at the designated place at the designated time. Little did she know what destiny had in mind. It was during the annual college celebrations that fate introduced her to Abhinav.

  Aby, as he was fondly called by his close friends, belonged to a wealthy and influential Delhi family. Tall and athletic, he looked like a hero from a romantic novel. Women tried to attract his attention but failed. While some admired his drop-dead good looks, there were others who were more attracted to his hefty bank balance. Even though the entire campus swooned over him, he kept to himself and often sat on the last bench of the classroom.

  No one, however, knew that instead of taking notes, Aby often penned down his heartfelt feelings in the form of poetry that had only one theme—the beautiful, unattainable Sehmat. He was in complete awe of her ethereal beauty and often described her as a Kashmiri princess who had lost her identity in an alien city. He loved his princess deeply but could never muster enough courage to approach her. Instead, he poured out his feelings in his poems, which, by his third year in college, had become an impressive collection.

  Sehmat often caught him looking at her strangely. While other men made her uncomfortable, Aby’s glances were different. His eyes bore into her soul and seemed to search for an answer. Sehmat was instinctively aware of Aby’s interest in her. She felt the same, but was determined not to rush anything.

  One evening, nearing sunset, Sehmat was taking her regular walk in the park nearby. The orange sun was spreading its hues around the grey-blue sky. She was in her tracksuit, walking briskly. Aby stood unnoticed behind a tree, his usual spot in the park, watching his princess as she walked along her route through the joggers’ track. Suddenly, Sehmat stopped and bent over something she had stumbled on. Aby leaned over to get a closer look too. It was a baby squirrel that she was about to step on. She gently picked it up and lovingly placed it next to a bush away from the path of the other walkers. Her eyes shone with love and tenderness, as her fingers delicately handled the creature with ease and comfort. The connection must have been intense, for the baby squirrel didn’t show any sign of struggle either.

  For Aby, what he saw was surreal. His throat constricted. The fading sunrays reflected brightly on her deep mahogany hair, giving her the look of an angel. He felt as if he were under a spell. On many occasions in the past he had pondered about Sehmat. Her religion was very different from his and could have serious social consequences, since he came from a staunch Hindu family. But at that moment, he put everything aside and became aware of the truth. It was then that Aby decided he would either marry Sehmat or not marry at all.

  4

  All students looked forward to the annual function at the college and planned extensively for it. One of the function’s main attractions was the dance competition. Over the years this event had gained popularity amongst the students. Judged by well-known personalities of the city, the event had become a symbol of prestige and pride for the college as well as the participants.

  Each year, a committee was set up by the college administration to oversee the participation and inter-college representations. Judges for the event were chosen with great care. The college principal, Ram Naresh Mathur, was understandably flustered. It was his last year as principal, and he wanted the event to exceed everyone’s expectations. If he succeeded in creating a mega success of the show, he hoped his request for a year’s extension would be considered.

  Mathur sat at the head of the conference table, flanked by the trustees of the college and their nominees. He took a quick glance around, noting the different expressions playing on the faces of the trustees. The slightly built fifty-seven-year-old principal knew he was no match for the lobby working against him. For the sake of his daughter, who was in her final year of graduation, he had to work out a strategy to continue as principal for another year. He was known for his straightforward and sincere approach, but he also knew that honesty alone never paid the bills.

  To make matters worse, Raviraj Singh, the most powerful of them all and someone he could count on, was absent from this crucial meeting. Many trustees had tried to manoeuvre the admission process to accommodate their relatives and simultaneously mishandled the college funds. Mathur had invariably acted as a roadblock in their schemes and had therefore made enemies within the circle of board members and trustees.

  Knowing fully well that most of the trustees were predominantly narrow-minded Hindus, he tactfully chose the theme of the unique love of Radha and Meerabai towards Lord Krishna for the main dance event. Amidst applause and murmurs of approval, he first read out the names of other participating colleges and then the names of participants representing his college. Heading the list of participants was Mitali as Radha and Sehmat as Meerabai. He was about to take his seat when A.V. Shastri, one of the oldest and most troublesome trustees, interrupted. His sharp nasal voice was filled with sarcasm.

  ‘Isn’t it a fact, Mr Mathur,
that Sehmat comes from a Muslim family?’

  Mathur straightened up slowly and thoughtfully. ‘Yes she does, Mr Shastri,’ he said, his voice tinged with respect and fear. Here was one of the troublesome trustees who could make or break his chance of an extension.

  ‘Then how has she been shortlisted for the all-important role of Meerabai? This will hurt the sentiments of all the students and is quite unacceptable. Many Hindu students could be offended and may take to the streets in protest. We must select someone who belongs to a Hindu family, who can relate to the character of Meerabai. Can a Muslim girl do that? We must shortlist someone else, otherwise we stand the risk of becoming a laughing stock in the eyes of our own people.’

  Mathur looked around and, to his dismay, saw that all present were echoing the old man’s opinion. Smelling defeat, Mathur was quick to salvage the situation. ‘If all the trustees agree with Mr Shastri’s views, then we have no choice but to look for another student to play the role of Meerabai.’

  ‘You do? Well, thank you, Mr Mathur. It is not often that you agree to our suggestions and opinions.’

  Mathur felt a twinge of pain thinking of Sehmat. He had attended the auditions, and none of the hopefuls came even remotely close to Sehmat’s performances. While he was struggling with his conscience, the trustees were wolfing down the remnants of their tea and snacks. There was a collective rustle of papers and scraping of chairs as they prepared to exit the conference room.

  Suddenly a young voice, polite but resolute, called out, stopping them in their tracks.

  ‘And why should we do that?’

  Standing tall in blue jeans and a T-shirt was Abhinav Raj Singh who had come unannounced as a nominee of his father, Raviraj Singh, and had stood quietly in the corner till then. Besides being an influential businessman, Raviraj was also an important trustee of the college. His ideals, principles and philanthropic activities were legendary. He was respected and feared by almost all in the committee equally. Mr Mathur was hoping to count on him during such a meeting as well as for his own extension.