"... Tread lightly in your gait,"


The house is quiet when Sehmat enters, an hour after she had left, bags filled with clothes that she had bought to give out in both hands. Munira bhabhi is in the living room, reading. She greets Sehmat as she enters, and Sehmat smiles in response, depositing the bags on a sofa and making towards her bedroom with the promise of being back soon.

It is not until she has shut the bedroom door and drawn the curtains that her shoulders sag, and she lets down her mask of unaffected happiness as her brow creases.

'You should get yourself some spices.'

He could only have been referring to the stock whose arrival was due at noon. Normally Abbu would send one of his trusted handymen with it to keep track of it until it reached the shop here, and Sehmat knows that information has been exchanged through the goods before. Still, she cannot help but feel that her current situation is a little different. At any rate, there is a problem with the shipment, she decides, which is pressing and urgent, and because of which she will have to leave the house. It also might not be such a bad idea to call the shop to ask after the stocks.

Sehmat finally heads towards the living room to find Munira in discussion with Salma about the preparations for dinner. Sehmat sits on the couch and begins to sort through the clothes while listening to their conversation on what curry to prepare. She feels a sudden wave of nausea come over her, and swallows, closing her eyes for a moment to collect herself.

"What do you say, Sehmat? Rajma or Kabuli Chane for lunch?" Munira asks, turning towards her.

"Rajma, I think," she says with great effort, and Munira nods to Salma.

Sehmat heaves a tiny sigh and continues sorting through the clothes as Salma leaves and Munira joins her in her task. She can feel her sister-in-law's eyes on her, although right then she is a little preoccupied with trying to get rid of the nauseous feeling.

"Are you feeling alright, Sehmat?" Munira asks after a few moments, and Sehmat raises her eyes towards hers, trying not to panic.

"Yes, of course," she says feebly, "why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Munira says, a strangely mischievous gleam in her eyes, "It's just that you look a little pale. Well, paler than you already are."

Sehmat's worry is beginning to dissipate when she continues, "And you haven't eaten properly in a long time." Munira is bearing a slight smile now. "You were visibly uncomfortable when Salma and I were discussing food."

Sehmat leans back in her seat and nods slowly, not entirely sure where Munira is trying to take the conversation. "Yes, I suppose it's possible that I have caught a stomach bug," she says.

Munira's smile widens, and Sehmat can hear the mirth in her voice as she says, "I don't know if it's a bug, Sehmat, but I'm very sure it's in your stomach."

Sehmat frowns at her words before the meaning behind them dawns to her, and she can feel her face burning. She imagines she's about as red as the roses she had bought earlier.

"It's nothing of the sort bhabhi, I'm just a little unwell."

"Are you certain?" Munira asks her as she finishes emptying one bag and reaches for another "It's really a lot wiser to confirm if you have any doubts than to … than to face the consequences later on." Munira's voice hardens at the last part, and Sehmat feels her heart constrict. She shifts closer to her, placing a hand on hers.

"I'm certain it's nothing, bhabhi, but perhaps we could go visit the doctor later? To be sure?"

Munira looks up after a heartbeat and smiles, eyes shining. "Of course. Now, how do you feel about lunch? The men are going to be caught up until evening—Iqbal had called earlier."


It is half-past one when Sehmat finally begins to leave for the shop, after confirming that the stock has arrived. She had established with Munira that there is a problem with it which needs to be solved immediately.

"Alright," she says to her, "but be careful … just in case. And do try and be back before too long—I've prepared a special dish for your bade bhaijaan. Hopefully, he'll bring some good news home."

Sehmat smiles at Munira and promises that she'd be back before long, and keeps the smile on until she has stepped out of the foyer, and it is replaced by a frown. Her mind reels at the casual reminder of how they're on different sides, even if it doesn't feel that way. She discards her frown when her car pulls up, however, and says to Ismail as she gets in, "We've got to go to our shop today."

The store is at the far end of the main market—away from her usual destinations. She spends the journey wondering what she is going to find once she does get there.

"Park somewhere, I might be a while," she says as she gets off and makes her way towards the store her father had left for her to run. The actual running of the store and dealing with customers is taken care of by a trustworthy couple that had been with Abbu from the start. They were people whom they could trust with their lives, and people who had seen her grow up.

"Assalam aalekum, Chachi," Sehmat greets the woman behind the counter with warmth. "Walaikum assalam, Sehmat beta," comes back the reply with a fond smile, which falls a little as she asks, "how are you doing? And your Ammi, how is she doing?"

Sehmat's smile turns sad as she shakes her head and sighs. "We're dealing, Chachi. I don't know if we'll ever get better after … Abbu but we're dealing."

The older woman nods in understanding. "Miyaan is in the back with the transporter—they're unloading the stock."

Sehmat nods and makes her way to the back of the shop, silently sighing as she thinks of her father. But when she reaches the back room, all thoughts evaporate from her head, and only one emotion floods her mind—relief. Relief, because Mir Sahab is standing near the stocks with Chachaji, disguised as a transport person. She wants to jump for joy but instead schools her face into an impassive mask and approaches the duo with due greetings.

"I hope there is no problem with the stock?" she asks Mir Sahab, tone neutral.

"There is, actually, Mohterma," he replies. Sehmat politely raises an eyebrow.

"It seems we are Missing some Pieces," he says, "although your manager is not ready to believe me."

"I'll deal with this, Chachaji, you can go back to the counter," she says to the older man, and with a nod to her, he retreats.

"What has gone so wrong that Kabir told me to reach here as soon as possible?" Mir asks quietly, rummaging through the unloaded spices.

"The night when the parcel was opened, the Roof had begun Leaking—" Sehmat whispers.

"And you had … Repaired it."

"Yes, but I lost a piece of equipment. The Cat found the piece and has held on to it tightly since. In a few hours, he'll take it to a den and then the chance of recovery is ... low."

"And where is the rest of it?"

"Here," she retrieves the polythene from her bag and hands it to him, which he promptly stores in a bag filled with bay leaves.

Mir hums, then narrows his eyes and there is silence for a moment. "There is only one thing to be done now," he says seriously, "We attack the dens."


It's too much risk to ask Ismail to take her to Sarvar's, so Sehmat puts on her burqa and slips out the back of the shop after ensuring that everything with the 'Missing' stocks has been sorted out. She takes a rickshaw to the other end of the Main Market, where Sarvar's grocery store is situated. She makes her way to the shop slowly, her heart throbbing loudly, stopping at another stall to look at some dresses to throw any suspicion off herself. This is the first time she is going to the shop, and the first time she is meeting Sarvar or asking for his intervention. But Abbu trusted this man, and he was his friend, so she has faith in him.

She is greeted by his wife Nafeesa, who is sitting at the till. The sun is high up in the sky, and there are very few people about the market. Sarvar Store is deserted except for its owners.

"I want Chickpeas," Sehmat says, "of 8 mm size."

Nafeesa's eyes sharpen at her words, and she motions to the man at the far end of the shop, whom Sehmat recognizes to be Sarvar himself.

"Please come this way, Mohtarma." He motions towards the back-room of the shop, and Sehmat follows him inside it.

"The inspection bureau will have to burn, as will the station headquarters," Sehmat says as soon as she steps inside, her urgency palpable and voice low. They are inside a storeroom of sorts, which Sarvar had deemed safe for their conversation. Sarvar stares at her for a moment with wide eyes, then says, rather than asks,

"You're serious."

Sehmat frowns. "Why wouldn't I be, about something like this?"

"We cannot just burn down the building," he says, disbelief apparent by both his tone and expression. "It'll raise too much suspicion. Besides, there might be information in there that could be vital for us. The bureau would never pass such a suggestion."

Sehmat looks around the premise suspiciously before fishing in the lining of her purse for a small piece of paper, which she hands over to Sarvar. "The bureau will, and it has." She pauses and glares at the mounds of grain-filled sacks around them. "Are you sure this place is completely safe?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then listen carefully. The piece of equipment that Abdul had taken from the set-up will be deposited in the Inspection Bureau this afternoon. Before the place burns, you will have to make sure that the piece is secured.

"You will make it look as if the Mukti Fauj is responsible. Mir Sahab says we have the uniforms of the rogue officers—a dropped name tag, an ill deposited can of kerosene with their fingerprints—anything to throw suspicion their way. Mir Sahab will brief you at 17:47 hours today." She gestures towards the still unopened piece of paper in Sarvar's hand. "All lines of communication except that of the Ambassador will have to be closed."

He finally opens the paper in his hand to reveal what is some sort of code.

"13442112," Sehmat says, and Sarvar folds the paper neatly and places it in his pocket. He regards Sehmat for a moment.

"That's a rather large gamble for a mere piece of equipment, don't you think?" He then asks gravely, "Does it have your fingerprints on it?"

"No." She shakes her head. "I wear gloves. But risking your most strategically placed spy's position is also an equally large gamble, don't you think? They would know when they look into it that it is a part of a Morse Code System set-up. They're bound to come and investigate."

He exhales slowly, then nods, gesturing for her to follow him out as she recovers her face with her burqa. He hands her a bag filled with a packet of grains, and with a final nod to Nafeesa and Sarvar, Sehmat leaves.

Taking another rickshaw, she makes her way back to her store, and enters it through the back door. She removes her burqa and leaves through the front, making her way towards the blue car parked under some trees, on which Ismail is leaning. Her heart beats faster than she had thought it to be capable of.

"I didn't take too long, did I?" she asks Ismail as he backs the car, and is relieved when the answer is negative.

"No, Choti Begum. You had said you might be a while. It's only been an hour."

Sehmat nods and turns to give a last look to the shop before they speed away.


The house is quiet when she enters, and Sehmat feels both relieved and disconcerted at the lack of activity. She slips into her bedroom and sits down on the futon at the end of the bed, breathing a heavy sigh before she can help herself, and it is then that she realizes how truly tired she is. She still has work to do. She takes off her purse and puts it away, making her way to the bathroom to review it after the removal of the set-up.

She shouldn't have installed it at all. It was very risky, of course—the entire business is very risky—but to have installed a morse-code transmission set-up in the house? That was plain foolishness on her part. Now she will have to pay for it.

'Always remain on your guard.'

She had learnt that the hard way, long before her assignment had begun. It had been three weeks until Mir Sahab had felt that the point had been drilled into her head satisfactorily enough, and she had blown it away just like that. She has overstepped. And now there is not much that she can do, except wait. Wait anxiously and hope that everything goes as planned.

She pulls out a hair-dryer from the cupboard and begins its installation, then steps back tensely to survey the rest of the bathroom. Her shoulders sag with a slow exhale when she is done with her inspection. No one would be able to tell that a Morse Code Setup had been installed here unless they knew. The hair-dryer should cover up any leftover tracks. Finally, after going over the wall another dozen times, she convinces herself that there is nothing more that she can do. She presses her ear against the door, listening for any movement, and after confirming that she's alone, she lets herself out of the bathroom.


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.