Calling Sehmat Page 4

  The committee members were not amused by the young man’s audacity in questioning their collective decision. But they were also aware of the consequences of incurring the wrath of the heir to Raviraj’s vast empire. Shifting their stance, they welcomed the young man to the meeting.

  Aby approached the first available chair. His face was expressionless, hiding the fact that his heart was beating wildly against his chest. His body language displayed no signs of nervousness. But his eyes were cold. They gave the impression that he was present in the meeting for a purpose. Bowing slightly, he glanced at all the members before continuing with his impromptu speech.

  ‘Since when have we started creating cultural differences inside our college? Don’t you think, Sir, that by damaging the secular fibre of this very fine educational institution we could be inflicting a serious blow to its reputation? Should we be seen politicizing such matters and risk a divide on religious lines?’

  There was a momentary silence in the hall. Those who knew the senior Singh could have sworn that it was the father speaking and not the son. The slow whir of the ceiling fans echoed through the silence but they were not effective enough to dry the sweat on the brows of most of the trustees, especially Shastri’s.

  Aby’s insight was strong, sensible and logical. His words had put the trustees in an embarrassingly difficult position. Shastri gathered himself to make a statement. He knew he could not offend his benefactor even through his son. ‘Well, I just made a suggestion, Abhinav. If the committee thinks that Sehmat can do justice to such a vital and glorified role, so be it.’ As if stung by a venomous snake, Shastri’s voice had lost its power of conviction and influence. Mathur was quick to notice the change and grabbed the opportunity.

  ‘So do we select Sehmat?’ The principal’s voice had regained some of its authority. Though he sounded unbiased and detached, he secretly felt relieved that a deserving student would be able to showcase her talent. Moments later, the half-hearted grunts from the trustees sealed the decision in Sehmat’s favour.

  As if on a cue, the principal stood up to conclude the proceedings. His guilt-filled conscience had emerged clean. His voice was filled with traces of victory as he spoke with relief and ease, ‘Going by Sehmat’s conduct and performance in the past two years, her academic excellence as well as her contribution towards the college’s cultural achievements, it is only fair that she be given a chance to enact the role of Meerabai. By selecting a girl belonging to the minority community we would, in fact, be sending a strong and positive message to all about the secular character of our institution. I am also aware that she has performed the role of Radha on many occasions in the past and has repeatedly exceeded our expectations. We therefore need not worry that she will not understand the nuances of the theme or will not do justice to this important role. I am sure that both Mitali Sharma and Sehmat Khan will do us proud and bring home the coveted trophy.’

  After finishing his short speech, the principal looked up for reactions and noticed the raised hand of Mr Bajpayee, one of the trustees. Mathur paused, giving him an opportunity to speak.

  ‘I agree with you, Mr Principal. Abhinav has made a valid point and I second the proposal,’ said Bajpayee, in a tone laced with sycophancy. He too owed his existence to Aby’s father and did not want to miss an opportunity to drive home his loyalty. The meeting ended with the usual formalities.

  Aby decided to remain discreet about his role in Sehmat’s selection and walked out of the committee room without waiting to be served tea.

  Sehmat Khan was aware of the notes of dissent from the staunch Kashmiri Pandits. Being a Muslim, she did not expect to be selected for the key role. It was only when she saw the notice pinned on the bulletin board with her name printed on top in bold for the lead role that she jumped with joy. She was ecstatic. A tear escaped her eyes. Her friends clapped and hugged her in a tight embrace. In the short celebration, Sehmat did not notice a smiling Aby standing behind the corridor pillar, taking in every bit of her joy. Feeling elated, he watched her walk away with her friends till she reached the far end of the corridor.

  5

  Sehmat had seen her mother pray to Lord Krishna and sing hymns of the legendary Meerabai since she was a little girl. Performing Radha’s role at school and college was easy. But to be in Meerabai’s shoes, and also give a befitting reply to her critics, was a challenge that she was keen to take on. In order to enter into the skin of the character, Sehmat had spent many hours in the college library, reading all the available literature on Meerabai, and rehearsed her part like one possessed.

  D-Day approached and with butterflies in her stomach, Sehmat walked on to the stage dressed in the jogan’s, devotee’s, attire: in a pale orange cotton sari, holding a small dotara, a two-stringed instrument, in her hand. Mitali entered from the other side of the stage, aptly dressed as Radha. In comparison to Sehmat’s simple-looking attire, Mitali was decked out in a bright costume, jewellery and make-up. With folded hands, forming the traditional namaskar, the two dancers faced the overpacked hall. Amidst catcalls and whistles, the audience erupted in loud applause and continued to clap till the two women took their designated places centre stage.

  The background music began slowly and swelled into a high pitch as the two dancers picked up rhythm. The strains of the bhajan, devotional hymn, flowed into the hall. Both competitors picked up pace, synchronizing their movements with the poignant lyrics of the song. It was plain for all to see that both the girls were leaving no stone unturned to cast a lasting impression on the audience and the judges.

  With her near-professional touch, Mitali let it be known that she was performing to win the competition. The crowd was mesmerized by the delicate movements of her hands cutting the thin air, appealing to Lord Krishna to bless her with his divine grace. Holding a flute, Mitali moved artistically on her toes, encircling Krishna, pushing, nudging and cajoling him to succumb to her demands. She danced with perfection and elegance, swaying the entire audience with her captivating performance. Her colourful costume added to her performance and kept the audience on the edge of their seats.

  The challenge was tougher for Sehmat than she’d thought it would be. Even though she was the more graceful of the two, Mitali was flawless in her performance and successfully drew more applause from both the judges and the crowd. But Sehmat didn’t give up. Being a natural dancer, her movements displayed an amazing dexterity. She merged with the character effortlessly as the song progressed. As if transformed by heavenly powers, she became the legendary Meerabai who’d devoted all of herself to appease Lord Krishna. She displayed no animosity or jealousy towards Radha whose Krishna enjoyed playing hide-and-seek with her. Unlike Radha who demanded love in return, Sehmat, now transformed as Meerabai, only desired a glimpse of the lord.

  Mitali kept pace with her competitor, fully aware that she had the upper hand. She was pitched against Sehmat, a Muslim girl who was playing the part of a larger-than-life character. She had to win, no matter what. Being a Hindu girl from a traditional Brahmin family, she simply couldn’t afford to come second to Sehmat Khan.

  As the show progressed, Mitali felt something sticky beneath her feet. She looked closely, while maintaining her rhythm, and realized that her toes were covered with blood. Her concentration faltered for a bit. She thought it was blood from her own feet and abruptly stopped her dance to look down. To her relief, her feet bore no trace of injury. Her eyes then followed the blood trail to Sehmat’s feet. And what she saw left her dumbstruck. Sehmat’s right foot was soaked in blood, which was painting the wooden floor red. Her eyes were shut, oblivious to the commotion she was causing on the stage. The attendants too started lining up on either side of the stage, watching Sehmat in disbelief. They could not muster enough courage to stop her from continuing the performance of her lifetime. Filled with awe and admiration, they stood together, not knowing what to do.

  Sehmat had been dancing on a wooden frame on the stage floor, from where an iron nail had protruded du
e to the repeated stamping of her feet. Her concentration was so intense that she had neither felt the pain nor noticed the blood. Mitali was stunned into disbelief. Looking at Sehmat still dancing with abandon, she felt an overwhelming desire to go up to her and bow down in defeat. Instead, she went to the spot from where the wooden plank had broken loose and knelt down, covering the nail with both her palms. She sat there gazing with admiration at Sehmat’s performance. And what she saw from close quarters convinced her that this was divine grace on display and not a competitive dance show.

  Volunteers sneaked to the wings of the stage to investigate, wondering what had made Mitali stop dancing. The audience too sensed that something was amiss. Moments later, the word spread in the hall like a jungle fire, making the entire crowd stand up and hold its breath in disbelief. Many stood up on chairs in an effort to take a look at Sehmat’s blood-stained feet. But such was the grace in her movements that no one even made an effort to stop the music.

  Sehmat continued to dance, her feet stamping the floor in rapid succession. Her body and her dotara swung rhythmically, keeping pace with the music. The volunteers’ faces were beginning to change to that of horror. They tried to catch Sehmat’s attention, but she appeared to be completely oblivious to the world around her. It was as if Meerabai had reincarnated as Sehmat Khan, taking the sarcasm, taunts and abuses of society in her stride, calling out to her beloved lord to take her into his fold. There was passion in her movement, love on her face and pleading in her expressions. Her attire was simple, but her movements were divine and soothing, touching the hearts of everyone present in the packed auditorium.

  Sehmat’s performance was at its peak as the music reached its full crescendo. Her braided hair majestically swayed to her lithe movements as she ended her dance by kneeling down. She had tears in her eyes, not because of her injured feet, but for the love of Krishna to whom Meerabai had given herself.

  Her eyes were shut, as if taking in the blessings that were being showered upon her by an unknown, heavenly force. She opened her eyes to deafening applause, only to realize that she was on the college auditorium stage. She hurriedly turned towards Mitali and then towards the audience before bowing in acknowledgement. It was then that she noticed her bloodstained feet.

  Mitali was smiling at Sehmat with tear-filled eyes. She was defeated hands down. But in her defeat she had won the applause of the entire audience who had instantly recognized her gesture. Mitali walked up to Sehmat and held her in a tight embrace. The hall broke into another round of applause. The roar grew louder as the two stepped towards the seated judges and bowed before leaving the stage.

  When Sehmat reappeared on the stage to receive the trophy, the glow on her face was brighter than the gleam of the trophy. Sehmat requested Mitali to stand with her while receiving the award. The two dancers stood together, hand in hand, holding the trophy high with pride. The crowd continued to applaud well after they had left the stage. It was evident to all that both the girls had emerged victorious. They had won something more valuable than a mere trophy. Goddess Radha and Meerabai had been united with their Lord Almighty.

  The only person who did not join in the frenzy was Aby. His eyes were transfixed on the face that had bewitched him for so long. Her enthralling act touched him as deeply as most of her other attributes. He had never seen her dance before but had imagined she would dance beautifully. Her performance erased the fine line of religious divide and strengthened his conviction that she was an exceptional woman, worthy of taking on as a life partner.

  While the spectators in the hall continued chatting about what they had witnessed, Aby slipped away unnoticed. His mind was now racing in all directions, looking for a means to get closer to Sehmat. He was determined to remove the social barriers of caste and creed that had kept him away from her. He had now begun to dream of a life with his Kashmiri princess. Shutting his eyes ever so briefly he murmured and then amidst another round of deafening applause emerging out of the hall, looked skywards and said, ‘I hope you will hear my prayer, dear Krishna.’

  Sehmat and Mitali were invited to the backstage room specially meant for guests immediately after the performance and showered with more praise. With his decision of selecting Sehmat vindicated, the principal felt elated. He put his right arm around her shoulder and introduced Sehmat to the board members and the judges. The same trustees who had earlier wanted Sehmat out of the competition were now giving her compliments. It was then that she learnt from a repentant Shastri about Aby’s intervention in ensuring her selection. Touched by Aby’s gesture and emboldened by her victory, she decided to personally thank him.

  Later, holding Mitali by her arm, Sehmat walked back with a slight limp to her hostel room with her bags and costume. Filled with a surge of trust in her new friend, Sehmat shared with her what Shastri had said about Aby.

  ‘You should meet him, Sehmat. You are aware of the fact that he is attracted to you, aren’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mitali. I have seen him look at me at times, but I haven’t given it much thought,’ Sehmat said hesitantly.

  Mitali placed her hands on Sehmat’s shoulders. ‘I do not know how you will react. But everyone in the class is aware that he is madly in love with you. In fact, it is common knowledge in the entire college. But are you attracted to him?’

  Sehmat flung herself across the bed with a sigh, ‘I do not know, Mitali. He is indeed handsome, and I think a decent man too, but there are times when doubts overcome me and I cannot decide.’

  ‘There is only one way to find out,’ Mitali said and picked up a bunch of roses from one of the bouquets that were presented to her. Handing them to Sehmat, she winked, ‘You can thank him. What better way than to say it with flowers? And I will help you look for this handsome young man.’

  6

  The next morning, at the college, Mitali’s detecting skills were stretched to their limits in trying to locate the elusive Aby. She finally found him in the library and rushed to Sehmat. However, on hearing this, Sehmat became so nervous that it looked like she was about to break down.

  Mitali tried to encourage her, ‘Go on and meet your hero. I would like to listen to your conversation, but right now I need to get back to my classes. I’ve missed so many for this dance!’ And with that, Mitali left an agitated Sehmat to her own devices.

  Sehmat hesitantly walked to the library and looked around for Aby. Something in her told her that since he was behind her success, it was only fair that she thanked him, no matter how awkward she felt. She peered into the semi-darkness of the library. For as far as her eyes could see, there was no sign of him. She felt disappointed and was about to turn away, when she spotted him seated at the far end, his head buried in a large coffee-table book. Slowly she inched towards him, thinking about what she would say and how she would start the conversation. As she approached his table, she found him engrossed in a colourful book titled Meerabai. He did not notice her till she was standing in front of him, and when he finally saw her it looked like he had been struck by lightning. He stood up hurriedly, took her hand gently and shook it with tenderness and care.

  ‘That was the best dance performance I have ever witnessed in my life. You were simply superb. Heartiest congratulations.’ Words did not flow easily. Aby looked visibly shaken yet pleasantly surprised by Sehmat’s sudden appearance.

  Sehmat smiled in return. She could see that Aby was dumbstruck. Sehmat quietly extended the bouquet. He graciously accepted the roses from her and then pulled up a chair for her. Sehmat sat down self-consciously, but noticing his discomfort decided to do the talking.

  ‘How can I thank someone who doesn’t even want to acknowledge what he has done for a person unknown to him? Please accept my deep and heartfelt gratitude for helping me out. Without your support I could not have achieved the greatest moment of my life. Thank you so much. I hope I will be able to reciprocate your kind gesture some day.’

  Sehmat’s soft, comforting words lifted Aby’s spirits. He ma
de up his mind then and there to tell her about his feelings without making a pretence of friendship. He smiled at her. It was the most tender smile Sehmat had ever seen. He stood up and gently placed the roses on the table. The moment between them was electrifying. All the students present in the library looked inquisitively in their direction. Aby looked into Sehmat’s eyes for the first time. The warmth in them was encouraging enough to dispel his hesitation. Drawing closer to her, he bent slightly to look straight into the hypnotic twin pools of the deepest-blue eyes.

  ‘You have never been unknown to me, Princess. We have never met formally, but you have always been in my thoughts and in my heart. I have known you right from the day you first entered the college. I wanted to speak to you but there was never a right moment. You are different from the rest. The way you carry yourself, the way you speak . . . You have always been a part of my dream and the centre of my poetry.’

  Sehmat got up from her chair and stood right in front of him. They were so close that they could feel each other’s breath. Aby paused for a moment, his eyes locked on to Sehmat’s. Even though he was speaking softly, all ears in the library were tuned to pick up every word that was being exchanged. But this was his moment and he was determined to open his heart. It was now or never. ‘What if I say I like you, and that I love you? That I have loved you right from the moment I first saw you and that I feel incomplete without you?’

  It was Sehmat’s turn to be shocked. She was unprepared for such a reaction from Aby. She had always tried to stay away from relationships. Now his declaration of love had thrown her off. She knew nothing about Aby, his family or his background. She stood looking at him, taking in every feature of his face, every fleeting expression. She thought about the times she had caught him looking at her with admiration and passion. Suddenly she had a feeling of déjà vu and the realization knocked the wind out of her lungs. The man standing in front of her, professing his love for her bore a striking resemblance to the man in her dreams! That is why she had been drawn to Aby in the first place. He was the man she used to think about. When did she fall in love with Aby? Why hadn’t she realized that she was in love with him till this very minute? She was grappling with her own feelings and trying to come to terms with how she felt.