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bookmyshowtickets · 7 years ago

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How Excited Are You For Alia Bhatt's Next - Raazi?

Who's excited for Alia Bhatt's next film Raazi? Of course, a whole lot of you are. After seeing the kind of movies the actress has been part of so far - Highway, Udta Punjab and so many others, we can't wait to see what she has in store for us this year.

Alia's next film - Raazi will be her first project in the year 2018. The actress will be playing the role of an Indian spy in this film directed by Meghna Gulzar. The story of the film revolves around a woman named Sehmat who marries a Pakistani man in 1971 with the intention of sourcing out information from Pakistan. Sehmat's father Hidayat (Rajit Kapur) urges his young daughter to become a spy for their country. Soon, Sehmat marries a Pakistani Military officer Iqbal Syed (Vicky Kaushal) and moves to live in Pakistan with her in-laws and husband. Here, she goes on passing information to her home country. But, will she succeed in her mission or will be fail? Will she be able to accomplish her mission without affecting the relationship she has with her husband - Iqbal? Find out soon in theatres near you.

Produced by Karan Johar, Hiroo Johar, Apoorva Mehta, and Vineet Jain and co-produced by Priti Shahani, Raazi will see love and patriotism put to the test.

Alia Bhatt in this film's trailer looks intense and impressive. As a spy and a wife, Alia's character definitely will go through an emotional turmoil but how she will handle the turmoil is something to look forward to. Alia is also seen training to be a spy in the trailer. Alia's co-star Vicky Kaushal who is know for the film Masaan (2015) looks to be in his elements and this maybe one of his best roles in the recent times. The chemistry between the lead pair is really something to watch out for.

Director Meghna Gulzar, the daughter of the legendary lyricist, novelist and director Gulzar will be looking for another hit after her last film Talvar (2015) starring Irrfan Khan and Konkana Sen Sharma. The title track has been sung by Arijit Singh whereas the song Dilbaro has been sung by Harshdeep Kaur, Vibha Saraf and Shankar Mahadevan. The lyrics of the Dilbaro song are written by Gulzar.

Interestingly, Raazi is based on the book 'Calling Sehmat' written by Harinder Sikka and the film is based on the backdrop of the Indo-Pakistan war of 1971. Slated to release on 11th of May, 2018, the expectations are surely sky high for this movie with what seems to be a brilliant plot and a great cast and crew. The final verdict on the film will however be given by the audience when the film hits the big screen. Till then let's wait and watch!

#movies #bollywood movies #hindi movies #raazi movie

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kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera · 5 years ago

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Khwahish

A Raazi Fanfiction.

Hidayat’s heart broke into a million pieces every time he looked at her now. Her radiant demeanor had turned sombre. She had changed dramatically, and he was responsible.

“देख रहा था–जो सुस्थिर हो

नहीं बैठती थी क्षण भर,

हाय! वही चुपचाप पड़ी थी

अटल शांति सी धारण कर।”

~सियारामशरण गुप्त, एक फूल की चाह

Translation :

“I watched–she who remained still

Not even for a moment,

Oh! She was lying quietly

With an air of uncanny silence around her.”

~Siyaramsharan Gupt, Ek phool ki chah (A wish for a flower)

~~~~~~~

Hidayat’s heart broke into a million pieces every time he looked at her now. Her radiant demeanor had turned sombre. She had changed dramatically, and he was resposible.

She was not the Sehmat who used to smile brightly at butterflies fluttering in the garden anymore, the Sehmat who used to grin cheekily while asking her mother for loquat, the Sehmat who was optimistic always. You could practically feel it.

She was now the Sehmat who had been forced into war, the Sehmat who was pondering death, the Sehmat who had undergone training as a spy.

She was not the same Sehmat whose presence was made known to every corner of the house anymore, the one who was always onto a task with a vigour and a bright smile—She had now turned into the Sehmat who was facing a near impossible, more than dangerous and trying task, all because of her love for her country. Love for her country, which was a part of their family’s legacy.

Hidayat the patriot was proud, but Hidayat the father was scared. More than anything, he was saddened. It was harsh to be sending his daughter—his only child, his Sehmat—straight into the heart of danger. The guilt was heart wrenching—another stab to his already wounded conscience.

He sorely wished he had consulted Teji before making his decision, but impulsiveness was his fatal flaw—his father had told him so. He acted before thinking. He remembered his Abbu warning him several times against this trait of his.

Hidaya sighed. He wished he had been wiser. He wished he hadn't imparted such altruism into her. He wished he had been a better father. He wished she’d smile again. He wished he could turn back time, for he had turned his radiant daughter sombre, and he’d give anything to be able to undo it.

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kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera · 5 years ago

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A Masterlist of all my Raazi fics

Raazi Canon Fics :

1. Familiar

2. Khwahish

3. Acquaint

4. The Diary of Iqbal Syed (in progress)

5. Saheli

6. Embrace

7. Nishkarsh

Raazi AU Fics :

1. Samar

2. If The Stars Align In Our Favour (in progress)

3. Blood and Tears

#raazi #raazi fanfiction #fanfiction #my fics #my fanfiction #my writing #masterlist #hermioneaubreymiachase #the dark enchantress ruhi #bollywood #bollywood Fanfiction #sehmat khan #Sehmat syed #sehmat khan syed #iqbal syed #alia bhatt #vicky kaushal #meghna gulzar

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kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera · 4 years ago

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If the Stars Align in Our Favour

Ch. 5 — The Result

“The path of life is twisted,

Fate, wickedly entwined,

Take hold of your intent,

The way ahead is clear.”

**********

The one day that Iqbal is home and rested long enough for her to broach the topic is right before they leave. It is, coincidentally, also a rare occasion wherein he is in bed before her. Not sleeping, no—because sleep is hard to come by in such times for everyone—but resting all the same.

Sehmat steals covert glances at him through the mirror she is sitting before, brushing and tying up her hair with trembling fingers, though whether they are trembling due to the secret she is about to reveal or something else is anyone's guess.

She sets her comb down but does not get up, looking at the tired, worried, and wary woman in the mirror for a long minute. She lets out a soft sigh before getting up and making her way to the bed, pulling back the covers and settling under them as softly as possible so as to not disturb Iqbal, but once she is under the covers he shifts over and turns off the night-lamp beside their bed. She watches as he resumes his previous position, lying on the bed but not closing his eyes. He stares at the ceiling, deep in thought. She wishes she could read his mind. Everything would be so much easier if she could read his mind. She sighs again, turning her own eyes towards the ceiling, listening to the sound of silence—only the fan rotating on its axis and the voice of the nightlife. The cantonment is quieter than usual. Somewhere in it all is the quiet sound of Iqbal breathing—a reassuring sound, though she doesn't know if she would be able to hear it again after tonight. The thought builds a painful lump in her throat.

Iqbal breaks the unnerving silence softly. “Sehmat?”

She turns to see him looking at her, concern and a question in his voice.

“Yes?” she asks in an equally soft voice, not missing the involuntary tremor in it.

“Are you alright? You seem distressed.”

“Oh,” Sehmat breathes out, “yes I’m—” Words die in her throat.

Yes I’m fine. It’s nothing.

She could say this. She should say this. Except she’d be lying. And Iqbal would see through it.

“I …” she tries again, still wondering what to say. She pauses, turning towards the ceiling again. She can feel Iqbal’s eyes on her. He puts a comforting hand on her own, and she decides to go with the truth.

She takes in a deep breath and asks, voice carefully devoid of anything but curiosity, “What do you think of– of children?”

She feels his hand tighten on hers, feels him get up from his reclining position to look at her, and feels the careful deliberation in his voice as he answers, “They’re … alright, I suppose?” He pauses, and Sehmat sighs. “But …” he continues, voice even more careful than before, as if he were treading on eggshells, “... I had always hoped to have a family … and now that I—we are married …” he trails off, looking at Sehmat with an unreadable expression. She is still looking at the ceiling, watching the light from outside dancing on it. She swallows, picking at a stray strand of thread at the edge of her blanket.

“Sehmat?” Iqbal says again, and the urgency in his voice compels her to finally look at him, worry, confusion, and what she thinks is hope, on his face.

“I have to tell you something,” she whispers, and Iqbal squeezes her hand softly. She entwines her fingers with his. “I’m pregnant.”

Her heart is pounding as she whispers the last part of the word, eyes on Iqbal’s face trying to discern his reaction. It is not on either ends of the spectrum. There is a glimmer of happiness, yes, and his lips turn up in an awed smile, but more than that there is concern, and his eyes are searching hers.

When a few moments of silence have passed and Iqbal’s initial shock has worn off, he asks, a hint of hesitation on his voice, “This is a good news … isn't it?”

“Yes,” Sehmat says, a little surprised, “yes, of course.”

“Then why do you sound so worried?” he asks tenderly, drawing closer and brushing her cheek with his hand, “why do you look so scared?”

Sehmat looks at him, more surprised than before, lips parted to speak but at a loss of words. He has caught her off guard. And in that moment she cannot help but say all that has been bothering her ever since they announced the war.

“I am happy,” she says in a shaky voice, still looking at him, “but this is not the best time to have a child, is it?” She shuts her eyes, turning away. “You’re going off to fight. In a war.”

Beside her she hears Iqbal sigh.

“Who knows if– if you’ll even be–” she stops, unable to go on. She opens her eyes, leaning against the headboard, and looks at her hands instead of at him.

“Sehmat,” Iqbal sighs softly, drawing her against himself the way he always does to comfort her, her head leaning against his chest, listening to his beating heart, and his arms around her, giving her a sense of protection—however false it may be.

"It's going to be okay," he says, pulling her closer, rubbing comforting circles on her skin, with surety neither of them can possibly have, but it serves to comfort her all the same. "I'll be back before you know it. And I'll be here to meet our child."

She certainly hopes so.

**********

They go off to fight.

She watches him approach the car from their bedroom window and her heart begins its descent to the pits of her stomach. It is barely dawn, the sky only now beginning to lighten, and the window pane pressed against her cheek is strikingly cold, but it helps in keeping away the waves of nausea which otherwise threaten to overpower her.

Iqbal looks up towards her as if he had already known she was watching. It reminds her unnervingly of their wedding day. It hasn’t been too long since then, but that memory somehow feels as if it were of a different lifetime. He had known where to find her even then. They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, and Iqbal gives her a slight smile which she tries and fails to reciprocate. It is almost too much to take. Because this is it. This is war. This is war, and they are on opposite sides of it. There’s going to be a battle. Her husband will be fighting in that battle. Iqbal might die. Countless others certainly will die—soldiers from her motherland and his. And however much she may want Iqbal to come back home, she wants her country to remain safe and sound more than anything. If she had been oblivious to the enormity of the situation before, she certainly isn’t now. The burden of the scene is beginning to settle around her like a blanket, one that is weighing her down unpleasantly.

The world is grey, she decides, not black and white as she had once believed. She had been naive back then. There is no good side or bad side in war, there is your country, and your duty to your country. And that is what they’re all doing—serving a higher entity, a noble entity. Their countries. She had always known that she'd do anything, give up anything, for her country. And now she is. She doesn't regret her actions, no. Because regret and guilt are two separate emotions. The same way her duty and her conscience are separate. One always overpowers the other. No, Sehmat does not regret her actions, does not regret saving her country from being caught unawares, but watching her family members—because that is what they are. Family—climb into the vehicle does wrack her with guilt. If they were to get hurt or … or die …

He gets in and they set off. Her eyes stay on the vehicle until it is a tiny speck indiscernible from its surroundings, and she doesn't leave the window even after that—she hasn't got the strength, and there are too many things for her to brood about.

**********

It is Munira bhabhi who pulls her out of her brooding. Well, her, and the investigating officers who come to the Syed house to investigate. It's a regular investigation they say, a part of the head-count they've been conducting while they're looking into the fire. It's been a week since the men have been gone. Sehamt does not miss the way their eyes stay on her suspiciously once they find out she is Indian by birth.

It is again Munira bhabhi who takes charge. Protecting Sehmat fiercely and glaring the officers down into submission. And it works. It works, because they are a part of the Syed Family. Probably the most powerful army family in the cantonment. They leave them alone soon enough, or, at least, pretend to. Sehmat sees them looking from inconspicuous nooks and crannies, her own spy's eyes finding them with practiced ease, and gliding over them as if they weren't ever there with the same practiced ease.

She doesn't go to Saadiq anymore, nor to Imtiaz to buy flowers. The first time that she had set foot in Sarvar's store has also been her last. She keeps up the pretences until the number of spies keeping track of her lessen, and only then does she dare step into her own shop—not that there is anything other than business to look forward to over there. She has had no contact with South for a month. It worries her.

**********

Two weeks since they've been gone later they hear news on the radio of Pakistan's aerial attacks on Indian Air fields. It's December the 4th. Sehmat's heart positively stops beating.

**********

A day later they hear of Indian attack on the harbour, something she knows is because of her information. The destruction is huge, positively crippling. At least one thing she is sure of: Pakistan will not win this war. Not with their Navy and Air Force in this state: crippled crafts and fuel and ammunition that is burning up the sea.

The civilian lives are in danger too. Munira bhabhi's family—her mother and father and her brother's wife and children—were hard to contact, but they're okay. For the time being, at least. The guilt she is feeling grows as she sees Munira's eyes shining.

**********

Four days later there is another attack—by India, on Pakistan—on the same Karachi harbour. The fire from the first one is still blazing. Shaken whispers around the cantonment tell of abandoned Naval plans and a PNS Ghazi.

Sehmat notices the spies coming back, their eyes trained on her.

Perhaps, she thinks, it's time to visit Suraiya appa.

**********

One week, or less, later, there is news when Sehmat comes down for breakfast. Not of a victory or of a defeat, but of the end of the war. Of an Instrument of Surrender. Of a country called Bangladesh (so they won. Relief like nothing floods her soul). Of soldiers taken as prisoners of war—not in the west, no, but in the east. Her heart goes cold anyway—she doesn't know where they are. However she—and Munira bhabhi, going by how pale she looks—prefer not having to think about that.

They go to the Mosque to pray instead. Spies don't follow Sehmat anymore, not after Suriya appa's unconditional and strongly worded order to the chief of the investigating agency—who owed to her and Colonel Siddiqi his position—about how to treat the wives of officers gone to war. There is still nervousness in her as she steps out of the house and towards the Main market. The only respite she has is the Sarvar Store still being open—so they don't know—and of Imtiaz giving her a not unintentional look.

She looks pregnant now—she has gained the weight. She still hasn't told her superiors. A frightening thought settles into her mind that she pushes away. She doesn't know if Sarvar or Imtiaz or Saadiq would convey this piece of information to Mir sahab. On one hand, it's the logical thing to do. On the other hand, they wouldn't know if this was ever the part of a plan. She herself had been planning on waiting until at some opportune moment, in some celebration or other, she had the chance to meet Kabir sahab, or, more easily, his wife Pallavi. What other way does she have, that is not suspicious? The phones don't take calls from India yet. They won't for a sufficiently long time.

**********

A month and half after they had left, the men come back. All three of them, each in one piece. They have scars—physical and mental ones—and they have a hardness behind their eyes. It is the humiliation of defeat and the unsettling truth of a battle. They don't look at her any differently though. They truly believe she is of here now.

And they are happy—they had apparently already known when they had come back, she is told that Iqbal told them right before they entered the battlefield—for her and Iqbal. For the future that is to come.

Iqbal is no less soft than before—she doesn't think she could see him in any other light, this side of him stands out so much—but he is less like himself. The same hardness behind his eyes too, though they soften considerably when they are trained on her. It makes her conscience heavy.

But her family is home now, and her Home—her country—is safe, and perhaps, perhaps, so is she.

**********

Read Chapter 1

Read Chapter 2

Read Chapter 3

Read Chapter 4

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kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera · 5 years ago

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Samar

A Raazi Fanfiction.

In an alternate universe Iqbal is able to meet his child and name him. Happy drabble.

The first time Iqbal holds his son he is awestruck. Awestruck at how tiny he is, and how perfect. At first glance he resembles him perfectly—same dark skin, same brown eyes—but on taking a closer look he can see Sehmat’s features in him. They are a lot more subtle than his own, but there is no mistaking that happy curve of lips when Iqbal strokes his cheek—exactly like the one that he is so accustomed to—or his high cheekbones and sharp nose which speak of his Kashmiri descent.

Their son is perfect, Iqbal decides, and he cannot believe that he has had a role in his creation. He slowly turns back towards Sehmat—who is lying in her hospital bed half asleep, tired from the long labor—and gently pads across the room towards her from where he is standing near the window, evening light falling on them. He is mindful of every step he takes, because he is holding a child—something he’s never done before—and any missteps could lead to disastrous consequences. Sehmat stirs as he approaches her, even as he tells her to relax, and sits up with some effort. Iqbal places the child into her arms gently, and both of them—Sehmat and he—sigh a collective sigh.

They sit like that for a while, mostly because Iqbal doesn't know what to say, and Sehmat is too tired to say anything. The baby fusses in her arms and takes hold of Iqbal’s finger when he traces his hand, and for a moment, for a single moment, Iqbal forgets about the war that is being fought outside this happy bubble that has enveloped him and Sehmat. The one that has enveloped his family.

It is Sehmat who breaks the silence as she gently strokes the child’s soft hair. “What will we name him?”

Iqbal looks up from the baby, and muses his wife’s question silently as he takes in truly how tired she is, and, in that particular moment, how vulnerable she looks. He slowly disengages his hand from his son’s, and brushes away a stray strand of hair from her face before returning his gaze towards the child. Dusk has fallen properly now, the sky outside more pink than orange, tinged with inky blue. It fills the room with an ethereal sort of light.

“Samar,” he says after a while, looking at Sehmat intently while she ruminates his idea. She too turns to look at the child, then looks up at Iqbal and smiles.

“Hmm … He does look like a Samar.”

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kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera · 5 years ago

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All Raazi covers I've ever made.

#raazi #bollywood #alia bhatt #vicky kaushal #raazi fanart #covers #canva #sehmat khan syed #sehmat syed #sehmat and iqbal #sehmat khan #iqbal syed #hermioneaubreymiachase #the dark enchantress ruhi #aakhir queue?!!

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kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera · 5 years ago

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Acquaint

A Raazi Fanfiction.

Sehmat, as they settle into their new life.

Sehmat is scared at first. It is surreal, being married. She does not know what to do with herself when around him, and initially, being in one another’s presence is embarrassingly awkward. It's as if they were children who had a crush on one another. She takes comfort in the fact that Iqbal too, faces the same situation. To an outsider, the situation would’ve been rather comical, but Sehmat is mostly confused. Additionally, she has not yet figured out her means of obtaining information and of delivering it so she has her work cut out for her.

She decides that it is better—as far as her assignment is concerned—that she doesn't get too close to him, but it proves to be rather hard. Harder than she had expected anyway, because Iqbal has a way of making people talk—even if he doesn't talk much himself—and especially as he takes her by surprise every corner.

So they overcome their awkwardness eventually and begin to talk, and their evenings are spent getting to know each other—him about her life back in India, and her of life here in Pakistan. She does find herself biting her tongue every now and then, though, just on the verge of saying things that could ruin everything. It is a little trying, having to remind herself that he is one of the enemies. It doesn't feel like it, for what enemy smiles at you graciously every morning and tells you about his day in the evening against the backdrop of jazz music?

Before long there are jazz tunes roaming about in her head—tunes that she is used to falling asleep to—and wayward smiles and glances that she has begun to anticipate. She doesn't really know what to make of the fact that she is now familiarising with him and his customs without meaning to.

They figure out the rest of their dynamics in due course, and settle into a routine. They are both making an effort and (she finds it rather touching), him because he really is committed to getting to know her and making her feel at home, and her because … because it would help her to know when she would be left alone (this is what she tells herself, anyway, because she still stands by her opinion that they would be better off not getting to close, however much her actions and emotions deny this).

It is still strange, being married, but not as much as it had been not too long ago. Her new life is comfortable, she thinks, and it scares her for it is a temptation she wants to give in to, but must not—Her country is far above such trivialities. But even so, she dares to fancy that their relationship is detached from this war (even if she knows that it is not). She certainly wishes it was, because they make compatible companions. She sighs, then grounds her imagination once again, her countenance melancholy as she reminds herself again of the purpose of her marriage to Iqbal.

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kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera · 5 years ago

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Saheli

A Raazi Fanfiction.

“Tumhara rishta Pakistan mein kyun hua ye sirf hum jante hein, Sehmat. Toh apni saheliyon ko batane ke liye koi munasib kahani soch lo.”

Translation :

“Only we know why you are being married away to Pakistan, Sehmat. So think up an appropriate story to tell your friends.”

Mitali knows something is off the moment Sehmat tells her that she is getting married and then leaving the country. She looks at her with wide eyes for a moment, almost hoping for her best friend to burst out in laughter and tell her that it was a joke, even if a very bad one.

“Mitali?” Sehmat asks her, frowning slightly on not receiving a reply.

“But why?”

She wants to hit herself with the largest tome she can get her hands on the next moment. That is not what you say to your friend two minutes after she tells you that she is getting married. You are supposed to congratulate her, maybe tease her and needle her for more information on her husband-to-be. ‘But why?’ Way to go, Mitali. She diverts her attention back to Sehmat, however, who is now blushing.

“Well …” she begins, then stops. “They’ve been talking of marriage for a while now, and now that our course is coming to an end, it won’t even hinder college.”

Mitali simply raises an eyebrow. “There has been talk of marriage for a while now? And you didn't tell me? Weren't you going to marry for love anyway?”

Sehmat ducks her head at this point but Mitali can see her cheeks turn a shade brighter. Her eyebrow arches higher.

“Sehmat?”

“Well… umm…” she looks up, sees her friend’s bemused gaze and looks back towards her hands toying with her pen. “We met a few months ago, when Abbu had held a party to celebrate his company’s successful expansion beyond the borders. He’s from over there, too. We’ve been communicating over letters since then. The topic of marriage was breached about a month ago.”

Mitali looks at her friend in wonder. Maybe she is a little hurt but more than anything she is baffled. She has known the girl sitting beside her since they were in third grade. Sehmat couldn't keep a secret to save her life. Even so, they told each other everything. How come she never told her about this? And how come she was going to simply leave for Pakistan after marriage and live as a housewife?

Sehmat had plans for the future. Teaching had always been her passion. She wanted to open a school for the underprivileged children of Srinagar. Somehow the fact that she is getting married this early and giving up on her dream by her choice doesn't sit right with her.

Her indecision about how she feels is more than a little apparent on her face, seeing which Sehmat scoots over and links her arm in hers.

“I did mean to tell you, Titli, but somehow it never came up and I was so embarrassed, I don’t know… I’m sorry.” Mitali finally gives Sehmat a smile, although her mind is still whirring. Titli. She doesn't remember the last time Sehmat had called her by her childhood nickname. She must look very upset then. She is still far from convinced, but for Sehmat’s sake she smiles.

They turn back to their books after that—they are preparing to give their final exams for their last year in college in a few days—but Mitali finds that she cannot concentrate on the text after all. It’s not like she can be blamed, anyway. This news has hit her like a freight train for some reason, and all of it completely different from what anyone would have expected.

They have talked about things all twenty year old girls talk about before, and she knows that Sehmat had not had any intention of marrying anyone anytime soon (a voice in the back of her head says that she could very well have been lying but she ignores it). And being married into Pakistan? Sehmat is patriotic—the Khan family is patriotic—sometimes almost to a fault. If there was one thing about Sehmat’s potential grooms that she had been certain about it was that they would be Indian. But it is not so—Iqbal Syed is Pakistani. He serves in the Pakistani Army. And anyhow, she remembers quite clearly Sehmat telling her that she was going to steer clear of any and all boys for the foreseeable future not three weeks ago.

Something is not quite right in this entire matter, even though she cannot put her finger on it. Sehmat has never contradicted her own self this dramatically. She doesn't know why, but she gets an ill feeling on thinking about this upcoming event, a feeling that makes her feel scared for her companion.

~~~~~~~

Sehmat knows that she has done a really bad job as far as telling Mitali about her upcoming wedding is concerned. She can lie to a thousand and ten people but she cannot lie to Mitali—she knows her too well. She tries to keep beaming and blushing as a bride-to-be is expected to throughout the conversation but she can practically hear the gears turning in her friend’s head.

It is quite clear that Mitali is not able to digest this idea at all. Sehmat doesn't blame her, really, she has shown no inclination at all to get married in the past few months, and then she comes up and says that she’s getting married. She doesn't think she has ever behaved or felt this out of character before. She has to admit she is more oblivious than a brick wall as far as men are concerned. It has always been Mitali who tells Sehmat that the boy she was talking to was, in fact, trying to flirt with her. They would always laugh over it later on.

“...Weren't you going to marry for love anyway?” She has to cover up fast, trying to not seem as out of character as she feels and says that she was practically being courted and didn't tell her about it. She cannot even look at her when she says this for the fear of being found out. Mitali is hurt, of course she is hurt. This girl knows her inside out and to keep something like this from her…

She does finally seem to accept it, though or at least pretends that she has, and both of them bury their heads back into a book, although Sehmat isn't really reading. Mitali can tell something is wrong even when Sehmat is trying her level best to act happy and content and as if her entire universe has not been ripped apart. She feels honoured, somewhere inside, that she has Mitali for a friend. She wonders briefly if she should say more on the topic of her getting married but then decides against it, not wanting to lie again, and no more is spoken of it.

~~~~~~~~~

After their exams and then the graduation ceremony are over she gets to see Mitali only two weeks before she is to be wed. Mitali has been in Uttrakhand for the past month, visiting her grandparents, so Sehmat really doesn't have to cover up for the extra month she has spent in Delhi undergoing training, although when they finally do meet she wonders if it really is to her benefit. Training has changed her, she knows. She is not as carefree, not as oblivious, not as lost in a different world. More than anything Mir sahab has made sure that she is always in anticipation of an attack or of getting her cover blown. Mitali notices this the moment she sets her eyes on her, of course, and then takes her to a more sheltered nook of the house to ask her if she is truly okay.

“You look terrible, Sehmat, as if you haven't peacefully slept in a thousand days. And you're quiet. Are you sure everything is okay?” Sehmat doesn't think she has ever felt such a rush of affection for someone. She is truly, eternally grateful to God for Mitali.

She manages to somehow convince her that it is all okay, not that she thinks that Mitali is convinced for even a single second, but she isn't exactly lying when she says to her that she has turned into a bundle of nerves due to the excitement and nervousness that is a part and parcel of getting married.

~~~~~~~~~

Sehmat really laughs out loud on the day on which she is to be wed when Mitali asks her if she really wants to do this, although she isn't quite sure if she is laughing at the audacity of the question or of the situation. It’s too late now to back out anyway. Still, she pretends to be happy all through the day and quietly sighs to herself when she is finally left alone in her bedroom—minutes before groom’s party is set to arrive—and allows herself to truly thank God for giving her such a wonderful friend, a friend whom she would probably never see after this day.

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