Calling Sehmat

by Harinder Sikka

  Armed with adequate knowledge, Sehmat scheduled Sayeed’s game during a routine visit to the Army Chief’s house. She also included two serving judges as part of the four-ball. She strategically shortlisted the judges in order to give an upper hand to the General after taking into account his shortcomings and strengths. Sayeed became General Khan’s natural partner, and the friendly four-ball game became an unofficial match play between the army and judiciary.

  This was also an opportunity for Sehmat to get closer to Abdul. She asked her father-in-law to involve their most faithful servant in the game plan.

  ‘Who can be better trusted than Abdul Mian for this vital task, Abba Huzoor?’ she forcefully reiterated in the presence of Abdul but without disclosing the nature of the work. The genuineness in her tone and respect in her voice was not missed by Abdul either. His face was writ with elements of surprise. His questioning eyes focused on the Brigadier, searching for an answer. But Sayeed remained silent and merely smiled in return.

  She then left the two men to themselves and went inside the haveli. Minutes later, the two old men were talking to each other in confidence. Abdul’s head went up and down at constant intervals, nodding and acknowledging the commands from his master. He didn’t quite understand the nuances of the game but interacted with Sehmat extensively over the next week in order to master his own part. Sehmat’s plan to soften Abdul’s stance towards her was coming to fruition.

  Sehmat blocked the course for the first hour of play citing security concerns. It also helped her restrict the movement of the spectators. As they teed off, the first four holes matched evenly, with the judges displaying exceptional play to keep the army team in check.

  The fifth tee off was a par-three hole. It was also hidden partially by trees and a hillock. The golfers could just about see the flag on the green before shooting the ball in the air. Sehmat had cleverly placed the same brand of ball in the hole before the start of the game and let Sayeed’s trusted servant, Abdul, take charge of the canine.

  Imtiaz Khan was a keen player, but like most golfers, had never hit a hole-in-one. On the fifth hole, as the General swung the club, Brigadier Sayeed and the judges clapped in unison, acknowledging the fine hit. The ball went high in the air, heading towards the green. All eyes were focused on the flight path, and it was important for Sehmat to divert their attention from Abdul to let the dog complete the drill.

  Sensing opportunity, Sehmat faked her own fall while attempting to balance herself on the uneven ground. The General leaped forward to lend a helping hand, quickly followed by the rest of the party who fussed over her, inquiring if she had hurt herself. The diversion gave ample time for the trained canine to run on the green and vanish into the arms of the partially hidden Abdul, with the white ball firmly lodged in his mouth.

  The General reached the green and looked for his ball, while Sayeed casually walked towards the hole. His heart was beating fast. He knew from Sehmat’s expressions that the plan had been pulled through successfully. But he also realized that one mistake could mean curtains for his career. Brigadier Sayeed pretended to look here and there before walking up to the hole. He peeped in and lifted the flag by its steel shaft, exclaiming with joy.

  ‘It’s in the hole, Sir,’ Sayeed’s excitement now reached a feverish pitch, leaving the bewildered Chief dumbstruck. He had been playing golf for decades without coming anywhere close to the hole in his first shot. And here he was, holding the ball that was soon to become part of a glittering hole-in-one trophy.

  The game was called off. The grand party that followed was dedicated to Sehmat, since it was at her insistence that the General had agreed to play, in turn fulfilling his lifetime ambition of achieving this feat. That it was achieved in the company of two high court judges lent further credibility to his achievement.

  ‘You have been a good omen for both my grandson as well as for me, Begum Sahiba,’ Imtiaz Khan said. ‘We are grateful to you for bringing so much happiness to all of us. I wonder if I’ll ever get an opportunity to reciprocate the favour.’ Sehmat simply nodded and instead of accepting the credit, thanked Allah for his grace. The General and his wife felt deeply touched by Sehmat’s humility. Mrs Khan went a step further and offered her any assistance that she might need in the future and also gave her personal contact number. For the young Anwar Khan, his teacher became his godmother and raison d’être for his growing confidence levels.

  Within two weeks, Sayeed was promoted to the rank of Major General and given the coveted post of Deputy Chief of the Inter-Services Intelligence or ISI. While Major Mehboob had ample reasons to sulk, feeling ignored and sidelined by his own father, Sehmat soon began to look into the top-secret assets of the Pakistani army.

  Even though she grew in stature at the Sayeed household, Sehmat foresaw her brother-in-law’s plight. Consequently, she did everything possible to get closer to the Munira–Mehboob duo. She accompanied Munira for shopping, took her advice in running the daily chores at the haveli and presented her with exclusive perfumes, clothes and gifts. Major Mehboob became fond of her too and appreciated Sehmat’s commitment towards the family. He was impressed with the fact that Sehmat gave importance to his wife and did not put her down.

  For some reason, however, Abdul still could not bring himself to trust the youngest daughter-in-law and continued to keep a watch on her. His attitude towards her did soften but he did not let down his guard. Abdul took any suggestion made by Sehmat with a pinch of salt. He was a simple human being and so was his thought process. So much so that Sehmat could practically see through him. Sehmat could not build bridges with him and had to remain content with the fact that he had begun to restrain himself from talking ill of her behind her back. Sehmat was also aware of Abdul’s prying eyes that kept a close check on her movements. She was not perturbed since she enjoyed the complete confidence of the entire family.

  Instinctively, however, she kept reminding herself that she was far from safe.

  10

  Back in Delhi, Mir found himself astounded by the zeal and enthusiasm with which cryptic messages were being transmitted at regular intervals by Hidayat’s daughter. She was working under her own steam, needing no motivation. He was deeply touched by the ease with which she had made the sacrifice. It must not have been easy to walk away from the man she loved, especially when she had the choice to do otherwise. Living in an alien country, which was turning into an arch-enemy with every passing day, would have made life even more difficult. He often wondered if Sehmat was purging her guilt by giving her all for the country. But his bigger concern was the undue risk she was beginning to take in transmitting signals. She had to be told to go slow before she got into serious trouble.

  Sehmat’s assignment took over her very being. Following her father’s footsteps, her duty towards her nation became her first religion. She would often spend the entire night plotting, scheming, strategizing and trying to find ways and avenues to secure vital information. Her days were spent making new contacts and charming acquaintances just in case they could provide her with something significant. She never once forgot the fact that she was from the enemy country and forgave those who were wary of her.

  One evening, as Sehmat was routinely searching through her father-in-law’s top-secret files, she saw something that pulled the ground from under her feet. So vital was the information that she dared not make an error. The information suggested that Pakistani submarines were preparing to set sail for the Indian coast. With trembling hands, she held the document, her apprehension rising with every word she scanned. ‘Keep Vikrant within striking range,’ was the brief order. The file also contained a photograph of INS Vikrant, India’s only aircraft carrier, and gave details of the weaponry and manpower it carried on board.

  Realizing the magnitude and significance of the information, she took the folder to her bathroom. She did not want to miss out on any data she intended to transmit. The file contained complex area coordinates of where the submarines were to be initially s
tationed. With her heart beating wildly, she was in the process of signalling the vital information by Morse code directly to Mir, when Abdul knocked on the door. Her father-in-law had come home early and was desperately looking for the same file. Sehmat was not surprised.

  The entire household was empty even though it was evening. Her sister-in-law was at her parents’ home. Her husband, brother-in-law and father-in-law had been extremely occupied for the past two weeks, returning home late in the night. The Pakistani army was secretly preparing for an impending attack on India. And unlike previous wars that were fought only by the army on both sides, this time Pakistan was pushing its navy and the air force into the battle.

  Sehmat had never seen a submarine in her life and wasn’t even aware of how it looked, but from the classified documents, she could make out that these were special vessels that could sail under water and remain undetected beneath the sea for weeks together. Appreciating the gravity of the file, she tried to grasp as much knowledge as she possibly could. But Abdul’s persistent knocks on her door and inquiries about the missing folder were making it difficult for Sehmat to complete the job.

  She finally responded and directed him to wait for her in the living room. Her tone was curt and voice crisp enough to cause humiliation. Sehmat realized that she was left with no choice but to put the servant in his place if she had to complete the job at hand. Abdul retreated slowly, his face clouded with deep anguish and hurt. No one in the family had spoken to him in such a harsh tone in many decades. His head dropped as he turned slowly towards the living room.

  Hurriedly, Sehmat transmitted the rest of the message and placed the document back in the manila envelope. She concealed the packet inside her shawl and made for Sayeed’s study. However, in her haste, she did not dismantle the transmission keys inside the bathroom. But she locked her bedroom door before rushing to the anxious old man. Her face was remarkably calm, masking her inner turmoil and nervousness.

  She deliberately entered through the rear end of the study and placed the envelope amongst the numerous files. Then, briskly manoeuvring through bookshelves, she reached the other end of the room to face her father-in-law. On seeing her, his face lit up, and he described to her the purpose of his early return—he was looking for a file. Tactfully, Sehmat moved him to his room and advised him to relax while she went about the search. She was back in five minutes, holding in her hand the lost envelope. Sayeed took a quick glance inside the yellow cover to satisfy himself with the contents, thanked Sehmat profusely for the timely help and rushed into the waiting flag car.

  After seeing him off, Sehmat went back to her room. To her horror, she found both the bedroom and bathroom doors ajar. With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she noticed that the Morse code key machine had been uprooted and removed from its base plate. She rushed out and saw a familiar shadow moving through the kitchen towards the rear lawns. Sehmat stood at the door in a daze for a while, watching the shadow vanish into the darkness. She looked around. An army ration supply truck on a routine visit was parked near the rear entrance of the haveli. That was all she needed to carry out her impromptu plan. Barefooted, and not even bothering to put on slippers, she quickly stepped into the military vehicle.

  She glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was not being watched by any of the servants. She then hastily jumped into the driver’s seat, placed an old hat lying on top of the steering wheel on her head and pushed the ignition switch with all her strength, praying that it wouldn’t let her down. She had just one aim—to eliminate the only witness to her act of espionage. With a shuddering loud noise, the three-ton vehicle roared into action and began rolling towards the main road. For the first fifty metres the truck moved in a zigzag pattern but soon settled into a straight line, without causing undue suspicion.

  She steadied the heavy machine with her frail hands and drove in the same direction in which Abdul had set off, till she reached the barrier checkpoint. A lone sentry sitting near the temporary hut stood up, anticipating that the truck would stop for the mandatory check. It was reasonably dark by then but Sehmat’s face was lit with firm determination. Under no circumstances was she going to let her mission fail. Pressing the gas pedal, she pushed the engine to full throttle and drove past the checkpost, ploughing through the barrier. The sentry jumped backwards in a hurry, hurling the choicest abuses.

  At the T-junction, Sehmat turned towards Major Mehboob’s office which was situated nearest to the haveli. Given Abdul’s closeness to Mehboob, Sehmat knew he would not seek refuge anywhere else. She felt that he would not pass this damning information and equipment to any outsider, and in turn put the Sayeeds’ reputation at risk and ridicule.

  The vehicle was gaining speed and it was becoming difficult for the petite and delicate Sehmat to control it, but she remained seated in the driver’s seat, her eyes focused on the road ahead. The truck rumbled on for another hundred metres before slowing down considerably. Not too far ahead, in the centre of the road, was Abdul, running as fast as his aged legs could carry him.

  On hearing the sound of the approaching truck, he stopped briefly to check its identity. His normally cold eyes visibly lit up noticing the army vehicle. He gasped for breath and started waving frantically with both hands, screaming ‘stop, stop’ at the same time. He was wearing army overalls that Major Mehboob had given him not too long ago.

  The truck slowed further as it neared Abdul. Sehmat’s steely hands gripped the wheel and her brilliant-blue eyes shone, looking at the vulnerable servant like a jungle cat looks at its hapless prey. Momentarily though, she felt weak in her knees. Her entire body shook with anticipation and her blood ran cold at the thought of what she was about to do. Her forehead was bathed in sweat, which she wiped with the back of her hand with a gesture of impatience.

  She had always admired Abdul for his blind loyalty and commitment towards her in-laws. But she was left with little choice. If only Abdul had stuck to his duties as a servant and not sneaked around, she would not have been forced to take such a barbaric step. Her eyes were moist, but she knew she would have to destroy the evidence together with the witness if she was to serve her country for more time.

  ‘I am sorry, Abdul, but you have to go. My country comes first,’ she murmured before pressing her right foot on the gas pedal.

  Abdul’s face was aghast with horror. Perhaps he had recognized Sehmat’s face hidden beneath the old khaki hat. The crunch of the old man’s body being crushed by the heavy truck made Sehmat want to get out and retch. The sickening sound would stay with her and torture her for the rest of her life.

  She drove the truck for another kilometre or so before turning it sharply into a narrow lane. Bringing the heavy metallic mass of destruction to an abrupt halt, she jumped out and rushed across the service lane into a row of badly lit quarters belonging to the junior staff—mainly helpers and servants of the army officers.

  Using the eerie darkness to her advantage, Sehmat walked briskly past a few blocks. She spotted a burka hanging on a clothes line and quickly slipped it on. It literally covered her from head to toe. She resumed her long and tense walk towards the cantonment and refused to let her mind be swayed by what she had done.

  She had memorized every detail of the area and was familiar with the lanes, byways and shortcuts that would help her reach the haveli quickly. Protected by her black veil, she moved stealthily, a dark figure in the even darker moonless night. But to Sehmat, it felt like trying to walk away from the unpardonable sin she had just committed.

  After what seemed an eternity, she reached the haveli. She approached the sprawling mansion from its back entry and sneaked towards the kitchen door. She then picked up a stone and broke open a small tile on the side of the first step at the rear entrance. Wrapped in a plastic sheet was a metallic key neatly stuck under the broken tile. Sehmat had planted the key within a week of her arrival at her in-laws, in anticipation of such an exigency. Mir had repeatedly stressed the importance of arranging an exit r
oute before she undertook the mission.

  Opening the gate noiselessly, she surveyed her surroundings. Thankfully no one was home yet, and she ran through the rear lawns past the kitchen till she stumbled into the safety of her room. Locking herself in the bathroom, she took deep breaths and gasped for air. Her hair was a mess and so was she. Someone only had to see her face to figure that there was something fishy about her. She splashed water on her face, undressed in a hurry and then walked into the dimly lit room, leaving the bathroom door ajar. Using the bathroom light, she sat at the edge of the fireplace and lit it with shaking hands. She then went back into the bathroom and turned on the water taps. Sinking into the bathtub, she scrubbed herself, cleansing the evening’s incident off her mind. But she failed to wash off the guilt of the murder, the cold-bloodedness with which she had taken the life of an old man.

  The heavy burden on her conscience began to press upon her and she began crying even as she towelled herself dry. Fifteen minutes later, Sehmat stepped out of the bathroom. She used the same burka to wipe both the passage and her room, removing visible traces of mud and evidence that could incriminate her. Minutes later she was back in the bathroom, dismantling the communication lines and loosely hanging wires. Bundling the burka and the house gown, she threw them in the fire pit without ceremony and sat next to it till the evidence was completely consumed by the hungry flames. Her feet were aching and fatigue was beginning to take over her whole body.