1Disclaimer: I do not own Raazi or its characters, plot, or settings. All rights belong to Dharma Productions and Junglee Pictures. I do not intend to cause hurt to any person(s) through this work of fiction. The incidents portrayed in the narrative are fictional, and do not confirm to actual events that might have happened during the '71 era. I respect all our Soldiers who fight for our countries—at the border or otherwise—and this piece of fanwork does not intend to disrespect them.
"Watch the ways of the wind ..."
The atmosphere at the dinner table is tense when Sehmat sits down to eat. The household is still recovering from the shock of Abdul's sudden death. Sehmat herself is trying to recover from the brutality of the entire episode—her having to murder someone in order to save her position as a spy, so that her country remained safe and alert.
Her conscience has taken the brunt of the trauma, and no matter how many times she tells herself that it is all for her country; that what she is doing for her nation is far more important than Abdul's life, her conscience gives her only one response—she killed a person. She is a murderer. In her waking hours, she manages to will those thoughts away—focusing on getting information and covering her trail. So, they come to haunt her in her sleep. She has gotten perhaps four hours of restless sleep in the past two days, plagued by nightmares about Abdul and being discovered, which have kept her up the rest of the night.
Mehboob bhaijaan is the last to sit at the table before dinner commences. One glance at him is enough to convince Sehmat that he hasn't received good news from the Station Headquarters, although whether that would fare well for her is anyone's guess.
"Any lead from the soldiers?" Abba asks, and Sehmat begins to serve herself the dinner to hide her nervousness.
"No. They had found him lying on the road badly injured. He had lost a lot of blood, so they took him to the hospital immediately."
She barely sighs before bhaijaan continues, "But the Police has found the wagon with which Abdul was ... run over."
Sehmat freezes. The car. The godforsaken car. Why hadn't she crashed it? Why had she left it parked out there? At least she had worn gloves. But what if someone had seen her driving it?
"Sehmat?" Iqbal's whisper startles her out of her reverie, and she finishes serving them both while still cursing herself for her foolishness.
"Whom did the wagon belong to?" Iqbal asks, and she feels a harder pang of guilt in her heart. Iqbal was very close to Abdul—he had practically been raised by Abdul. How cruel that she should take away another parental figure from him.
"The Cantonment. They found it parked a short distance away from the site of the accident. The key was in the ignition when they found it. It's being dusted for fingerprints..."
Sehmat looks up for a single moment, then turns back towards her food. There weren't any fingerprints in there that she had to be worried about. It was the chance that someone might have seen her in it.
"...and the piece of metal in his hand—the Station Chief has asked me to submit it to the inspection bureau. They will be able to establish its origin."
Silence reigns the table again, and it takes every fibre in her being to stop her hands from shaking and to breathe evenly. Her heart is beating so loud in her ears, she is surprised no one else can hear it. She plays with her food until dinner ends, and only a few bites make it to her mouth. The thought of food right then only serves to make her nauseous.
Once in the safety of her bedchamber Sehmat paces back and forth so many times she is surprised she hasn't worn a hole in the flooring. The Inspection Bureau will be able to tell that the metal piece belongs to morse code equipment. If they inspect further, they'll know that signals were being transferred from their house. And their first suspect would be her. Unless the accursed piece of metal is recovered, she is as good as dead. She wrings her hands, finally, and begins to straighten the bed sheets and pillows. She'll just have to get to Mir Sahab for further direction tomorrow.
So caught up is she in her musings that she doesn't notice Iqbal's presence until he speaks, "Are you alright? You seem to be a bit shaken by Abdul's death."
'So are you,' She wants to say, 'I'm so sorry you have to go through this,' but she only nods mutely, and watches with a sinking heart as her husband looks out of the window pensively.
"He was very loyal," He says, and Sehmat cannot agree more. He was loyal to the last second. His loyalty cost him his life. "I know he could not have done anything that would cause harm to our family."
She looks at Iqbal's serious countenance for a moment longer and suddenly finds herself feeling immensely tired. She sits at the edge of the bed and stares into the fireplace instead, and in a voice far too quiet and shaky asks, "Should I go to the Mosque tomorrow? To offer prayers for Abdul. I'll also get some clothes from the Main Market to distribute to the poor." None of it is untrue. Nothing will ever be enough to rid her conscience of the guilt of having killed him, but she has to try. She could also use the opportunity to contact Mir Sahab.
"That's a nice gesture," Iqbal's voice breaks into her thoughts once again, soft as it is, "I'll accompany you."
Or she could make up some other opportunity to contact Mir Sahab.
She feels the bed sag in a corner, signalling that Iqbal has retired for the night. She retains her position, however, and looks towards the fireplace once again, not being able to find the energy to move. Her life is a cruel paradox, she decides, because the actions she takes to protect herself from being hurt end up hurting her instead—even if in unexpected ways.
She finally settles under the covers herself, although despite how tired she feels, she finds herself unable to go to sleep. She lies very still with eyes closed, willing sleep to come but to no avail. Beside her, she hears movement again, which could very well just be him turning in his sleep, but she knows better. His breathing is shallow, and she can feel how tense he is. She wonders for a moment if she should signal that she is awake too—that they can talk, and that she hates how he has closed up over the past two days—but decides against it. She cannot comfort him about a loss that she is responsible for. And even if she does try, what would she say to him? That it's okay, even when both of them know it's not? That he should cherish the time that he had with him—the same way he has had to cherish the memories of his mother for thirteen years. Sehmat heaves a long sigh. The truth is that no words can console someone who has lost a parental figure, and nothing can make dealing with it easier.
She opens her eyes slowly and very softly turns so that she is facing Iqbal. He is—as she had known he would be—awake and looking at the ceiling pensively. 'He looks so vulnerable,' Sehmat thinks, 'and so raw.' That his side of the bed is in direct view of the window and bathed in moonlight might be poetic on a different occasion, but all Sehmat can see at that moment is how the moonlight glints off his eyes, and how they are shining, and suddenly Sehmat finds that she cannot breathe anymore, and she cannot look any further. She shifts onto her back again and closes her eyes with the same softness as before, careful not to make any quick movements, determined to fall into a dreamless slumber this time.
The morning cannot have come early enough for Sehmat. While she had managed to fall into an uneasy sleep, it had been plagued with nightmarish imagery—the look of terror on Abdul's face just before she had … run him over, the sadness on her husband's face when they had received the news, and last night. She wakes up feeling tired and sore enough that she has to rally herself to get out of bed and begin her day.
She wonders how she'll get about to contacting Mir Sahab if Iqbal will be accompanying her. If it were Munira bhabhi she would've taken the chance anyway, but this is Iqbal, and he is an army major—it won't be nearly as easy to make her way around him. She really doesn't have the heart to lie to him if she can help it. She'll just have to make up some issue with some stocks for Abbu's business—which is now up to her to run—and make her way to the Main Market from there.
It is an hour later when Sehmat has sat through an uneasy breakfast that they, along with Mehboob bhaijaan, begin to leave, and are intercepted by Abba who, upon closer look, looks positively harassed—as if he hasn't slept in days.
"You two come with me to the Station Headquarters. There is an emergency meeting we need to attend and then—"
"Abba, you and Iqbal go ahead," Mehboob bhaijaan says. Sehmat knows as soon as he says it that it is a bad idea for him to argue with Abba right then. "I need to head over to the inspection bureau to submit the metal piece we found with Abdul. I have a meeting there with—"
"Those rogues from the Mukti Fauj murdered the Governor of the East!" Abba all but screams, seething with fury, and Sehmat looks away from the scene wishing that she were somewhere else. "And here you are chasing after your own tail like a mongrel. Get over Abdul's death, and focus on the tension that is brewing in the country! You can reschedule that meeting for later in the afternoon."
Abba turns to step into the car and Iqbal and her exchange looks as bhaijaan storms in with him. Iqbal sighs, and with an apologetic glance, accepts his bag from her and steps into the car.
Sehmat watches the car speed away, slightly relieved and a little unnerved. She removes all trivial thoughts from her head, however, as she sits in the next car that pulls up and thinks about what she might have to do to get rid of the accursed metal and the setup it came from.
"I might take around an hour," Sehmat tells Ismail as she grabs her bag and gets out of the car, to which she receives a nod. She keeps walking up the main street until she is out of the car's line of sight, then ducks into one of the less populated side alleys as she pulls on her burqa. She takes several meanders, stopping at various shops to buy trinkets before she makes her way to where she knows Imtiaz will be waiting.
He is there, sure enough, when she approaches the rickshaw stand, and he jumps onto his rickshaw with a knowing nod once he hears her say, "I need to get some warm clothes—the winter is quite harsh now." She gets into the rickshaw silently, and they are at the Mosque in no time. She makes her way to the flower stand that Saadiq runs, and points mutely towards a basket of Phool Chaddar even as he furrows his brow in inquiry.
Sehmat makes her way to the Mosque—she'd rather offer her prayers for Abdul's safe passage to heaven before she finds out about other potential murderesses. She spends perhaps half an hour in there, and when she returns Saadiq is entertaining customers. She waits behind the other two ladies until they are done, and then asks conversationally, "How much for the Red Roses?"
"They're 20 rupees apiece. With Thorns or without?" Sehmat swallows.
"With."
Saadiq looks around for curious eyes, then ushers her inside the shop without further delay. She dials the switchboard number for the Embassy, then hangs up after two rings. The phone rings back in a heartbeat.
"Hello? Is it possible to talk?"
Kabir Murtaza's voice speaks over the phone, "Yes, this line is safe. Go on."
"I need to talk to Mir Sahab. The Cat has a Toy, and it won't let go. It's taking it to the Den."
A long sigh over the line. "Nothing can be done regarding the Cat just yet. It's not been so long since the Roof was repaired. You should get some spices for yourself—your father had once told me you like them."
The ambassador hangs up, and Sehmat sets the receiver down herself. She leaves the shop once the coast is clear with a nod to Saadiq, and makes her way to where Imtiaz normally waits for her, mind whirring. There is a shipment of spices set to arrive today in the afternoon from down South for trade. Perhaps it's time she pays the shop a visit after all.
Glossary:
Ma : Mother
Abba : Father
Bhaijaan : Brother
Miyaan : Here, husband.
Bhabhi : Sister-in-law (brother's wife)
Phool chadar : A sheet of knitted flowers used as offerings for worship.
Rajma : Kidney beans
Kabuli Chane : Chickpeas
Assalam aalekum : 'Peace be upon you', an Arabic greeting
Chachi : Aunt
Walaikum assalam : 'And unto you be peace', an Arabic greeting
Beta : here, Child
Ammi : Mother
Mohtarma : Madam
Choti Begum : 'Choti' means younger, and 'Begum' is the title of a married Muslim woman, equivalent to Mrs. Together in this context they refer to Sehmat being the younger daughter-in-law of the house.
A/N: Hello all readers! Thank you for reading the first installment of my Raazi Fix-it. This is (obviously) an AU fic and so I have taken some liberty with little details. Other little things are actually a part of canon, which were later omitted (for example, did you know that Sehmat really did run her father's business after his demise?).
I hope you liked this, if you did please review. There will be bi-monthly updates, so please follow the story if you wish to read more :).
~Your fellow Raazi fanatic, The Dark Enchantress Ruhi
