Sahar started her morning early, she chopped some fruits and made tea and paratha for sehri. Then she woke up Zahira and made her eat, while Zahira was still sleepy. "Eat fast Zahira! We have to fast for the whole day," said Sahar like a mother to Zahira. Sahar had to apply for a job at the bakery today. Sahar got ready and wore a new burkha today. Zahira gave her a hug to Sahar while still in bed, "Best of luck Sahar" and went back to sleep before Sahar could reply. Sahar smiled as she saw Zahira. Sahar had no family but she had managed to become Zahira's life. She knew why she was risking her life so that they are no Sahar and Zahira in this country. And the ones who are already here can live their lives freely and peacefully.
Sahar took a bus to the town. It was not very crowded, and Sahar managed to find a window seat. She enjoyed the rising sun, an orange ball of fire emerging from the depth of the sand dunes. Within an hour Sahar was in the town of Faridabad. She walked from the hustle-bustle of the bus stop and got into the narrow lanes of Panna market. Amidst rows of dry fruit sellers and spice merchants, Sahar found the bakery she was looking for, Faiza's Biscuits and Bread. Sahar took a deep breath as if she was about to be plunged into an ocean or more accurately get sucked into quicksand.
Sahar entered the bakery and was greeted by a very jolly-looking man. "Hello! How can I help you?" asked the man behind the counter, in the local dialect. "Hello, my name is Sarah, and I was wondering if there is a job for me at your bakery?" inquired Sarah. Sarah was nervous, what if there is no opening at the bakery, usually, the baking is done by men. Hiring a girl into a bakery would be not the norm. And what if he takes some difficult test. Sahar was a good cook, but not a great baker. Sahar was sweating in her burkha due to the hot winds coming from the ovens and the heat from her own Sabotaging thoughts.
Reliving Sarah from her mental torture, the man behind the asked, "what did you say your name was Sahar?" Sahar nodded; she was too scared to speak now. "What if the bakery people knew that she had been responsible for the killing of Yusuf and his men and the even more dreadful thought was, what if? They knew I have arrived here as a spy. They will surely throw me in the furnace. And her ash will be thrown out at night mixed with coal ash. Nobody would know, Not Zahira, not Aaron. Maybe I should use the watch to call Aaron now before it's too late," Sahar was mumbling to herself.
"My name is Riyaz, I'm the manager here. Are you educated?" asked Riyaz the manager of the bakery. "Yes, I can read and write, I'm a part-time teacher at my village school," said Sahar realizing maybe today is not the day she will be thrown into a furnace. "Ooh wonderful, we needed someone to keep a record of the incoming and outgoing orders and inventory management and all," exclaimed Riyaz. "Yes, I can do that, I am good with paperwork," claimed Sahar. Riyaz had a big smile on his face, "oh good then, you are hired. Welcome to Faiza's Biscuits and Bread.
The day was very uneventful for Sahar, she kept receiving phone calls for the cake and biscuits deliveries and some big orders of bread at restaurants. Then she also kept the records of numerous boxes of food ingredients that came into the bakery. It was almost four pm. The work was stopped, it was time for Iftar. The breaking of the fast. Dates, dry fruits, biscuits, and tea were laid. Everyone sat down together to eat. A delivery truck came, and its driver and help were also asked to join them for Iftar. "I'll add the new entry into the box in a while," said Sahar. "It's your first day, don't exhaust yourself go home. You can add them in the morning." Said Riyaz pleasantly. "No, I would like to finish my work before leaving," persisted Sahar. "As you wish," smiled Riyaz.
Sahar was taking the delivery into account and she realized there was an extra box than shown in the bill. And the box had a red X marked on it. The boxes were all kept in the basement. Sahar excused herself from the reception desk on the pretext of a break and went straight to the basement. She looked around there was no one there. The box was really packed well, Sahar found a cutter and slit the packaging. She was just opening the box when a heavy fist pounded itself on the box. Sahar's heart stopped for a second. It was Riyaz, the jolly-looking guy who was not smiling anymore. "What are you doing?" Riyaz asked in a gruff tone. Sahar was taken aback, but she can't stand there in silence. She had to come up with something. "Oh! Nothing you know it's just that there is an extra box so I was wondering maybe it was a wrong delivery you know."
Riyaz had still his hand on the box, but his tone got a little softer. "Sahar you know how the government is putting a tax on everything. We also have to make some profit. So, there will always be some extra boxes coming and going, which are not put to be in the books, do you understand?" asked Riyaz, almost threatening. "Yes, but it's also important to check the quality of content. What if they are giving us sub-standard products in the unofficial boxes?" excused Sahar. "We trust our suppliers Sahar; they provide exactly what we need. Just keep the records. Do not care about the contents. Am I clear?" asked Riyaz back to his polite self. "Yes! Sir," replied Sahar.