Chapter 13 #2
Her throat dried. Was he hinting at what she was thinking?
“In military training?”
“No.”
Her chest felt tight. Her eyes went to the pack and how white his skin had turned.
Amaal began to pull it back to give him some respite, but he caught her hand, pressing it back.
Her eyes returned to his, and she couldn’t help it.
Her fingers left his neck. They hovered, over his cheek, darkened in heavy stubble.
Her fingers shivered. They wouldn’t touch him.
But they wouldn’t retreat either. His eyes were impervious, seeing all but saying nothing. Just as his mouth.
Her eyes went there. And his head began to pull out of her hold.
“Samar.” She caught his cheek, belatedly realising what she had done. He froze. Lines had been crossed. Amaal had the option of not going further. But if not now then when again?
“Samar.” She pressed the ice pack deeper into his skin on one side, her warm hand to the other. Amaal gathered words, any words, and began to open her mouth when he broke free from her hold and pushed to his feet.
She gaped.
He was a shadow, a tall shadow, standing with his back to her. She now had the shape of his back memorised. That was how much she had seen it in her one year here.
“You should go.”
Amaal got to her feet, walked around to face him, and said what she never thought she would say.
“I like you.”
He was staring at the wall behind her, unperturbed.
“It’s embarrassing for me to say it to you like this when you have stopped even looking at me since coming back to Srinagar.
But I am not backing down because I think you like me too…
” She was scared of what she was saying and how vulnerable it was leaving her but she went on, hoping there was something good on the other side.
And once opened, the tightest words of her thoughts just flowed.
“I don’t know how practicalities can work out but I am serious about this. What I mean is… I am not… thinking of some… affair or fling or something. I am serious. Do you feel the same about me? Did I feel it right in Jammu?”
He did not look at her. And a long minute passed. In silence.
Then his eyes quietly moved from the wall behind her to her. Amaal held her breath, hoping she was holding her hopeful smile too. Her chest was shaking, her fingers holding the ice pack now stubs. She waited.
“You are young, it happens.”
He stepped around her, opened the door and left the room. She kept her breath steady, fingers still freezing on his ice pack.
————————————————————
Amaal didn’t know how long she was inside that bedroom, alone. But when she finally found enough gumption to recover and walk out of the house, the party had ended. She checked her watch. Three hours had passed?
She glanced from the workers stacking the chairs and the food station winding up to Zorji and Khatriji sitting in one corner sipping kahwa. Nobody else was in sight.
“Amaal?” Begumjaan came up behind her, casseroles in hand. “Where were you?”
“I… got a call. I was inside.”
“For so long?”
“Yeah, I lost track of time. Everybody left?”
“Almost everybody. Did you eat?”
“Uhh… yes.”
Begumjaan’s eyebrow cocked — “Do not lie to me.”
“I did,” Amaal smiled, or tried to, hoping it would work. “The Naan was really very soft. Do you think there will be taxis outside? I came with Fahad and everyone… when did they leave?”
“There are no taxis here unless you book in advance. Wait, Samar is still here, he will drive you. Samar?” No answer. “Samar?”
“Yes?”
Amaal turned, and saw him walk out from the back of the house, a half-eaten plate of food in hand.
She eyed his plate, then his face. How could she even count it as betrayal that he was eating while she hadn’t?
He did not feel for her like she did for him.
It was a painful feeling. But she would have to get over it.
Soon. In a minute. Because work was here, life was here, and she wasn’t about to give up on everything she had worked so hard to build in this hostile world for a man who did not even see her with respect.
“When you are finished, can you drive Amaal home?”
“I don’t have my car.”
“Then how did you come?”
“Had somebody drop me.”
“Take my car!” Zorji yelled from his discussion in the corner.
“I am not in a condition to drive tonight.”
Amaal unlocked her mobile — “Let me call Fahad, they can come back for me…”
“Take my driver and car.” Khatriji offered.
“Thank you, Khatriji.”
“It’s late, Samar,” Begumjaan asserted. “You also go with them.”
Amaal pasted a bigger smile on her face and turned to Safiya Begum. “It’s fine, Begumjaan…”
“How is it fine? Do you have a problem if Samar also sits in the car with you and the driver?”
“No… it’s just redundant…”
“The driver is new.” Khatriji’s low voice cut through their argument. “Samar, go.”
————————————————————
The darkness inside the car was rivalled by the darkness outside.
The silence inside the car was rivalled by the silence outside.
Amaal sat quietly in her seat, staring straight ahead, Samar in the seat beside hers.
The third seat was stuffed with bags, as was the passenger seat.
Her body did not touch his, she made sure of it.
And yet, the air between them crackled with something… electric, and disappointing.
Get used to it, she told herself. It would take some time to get over this and move on.
Amaal turned her head towards the sweeping fields outside, dark and shadowed, lit with bursts of street lights at regular intervals.
It reminded her of the man beside her. And she was so angry at that thought.
How long before she would stop being angry, sad, thoughtful, wishful, regretful, mindful of him, her feelings and this awkward space?
In one month, she told herself. In one month, she would walk in front of him like nothing was wrong.
She would do her work as usual, even with him when needed, lead his rallies, school his communication skills, sit with him for meetings and tours, maybe just like this, and never speak a word out loud of what had happened tonight.
She had discovered enough about Samar Dixit in the last year to understand that he was a shy man, just as embarrassed as her in awkward moments.
He would never mention this again, either.
It would be easy again. Good again. The insult of this injury would heal.
And some day she would realise it was for good that Samar did not say yes to her.
Her eyes began to shut at that thought, the smooth motion of the car lulling her to sleep.
————————————————————
When she woke, the car had stopped.
Amaal swallowed the saliva pooled inside her closed mouth, squinting at the dark interiors of the car now flooded with light from outside. She caught sight of her building through the window. And then the stubbled throat in the foreground.
She realised where she was sleeping. On his shoulder.
Amaal pulled back, eyeing him. He was asleep too.
Phew.
Tears blinded her eyes in that still moment.
She trailed her eyes over the contours of his face.
He had insulted her, turned his back on her again, not given her feelings the respect they deserved.
And yet, in this one moment before she gave up on thinking about him, she couldn’t help but think about him one last time.
How would it have been, to be with him, to get to know more of him, to accept him, to make ten jokes and have him reciprocate with one that was as dry and uncalled for?
How would it have been to be the girl he watched out for, to have him give her a touch to lift weights not because her dumbbells were falling off but because he could not keep himself from touching her.
How would it have been to have him work out beside her when other men were around, not because he was protecting her from their gazes but because he was staking his claim as the only man who would get her eyes?
How would it have been to correct his dressing and school his public speaking, not just because she was his media coordinator but because she was his…
Amaal drank the tears and tilted her head to check the swelling behind his head. She touched it, feeling the swell hard but not grown any more. Then quickly pulled her hand back when she realised what she was doing.
She grabbed her purse, opened the door and pushed one foot out.
“Thank you,” she whispered to the driver. He nodded back.
Amaal got out, shut the door quietly and rushed around the car to open her building’s gate.
Samar opened his eyes, cutting them to where she was stepping inside and closing the gate without turning back. He took a deep breath, keeping his eyes on that closed gate. The heat of her fingers was still burning the back of his neck.
“Drop me home, I’ll show you the way.”
————————————————————
“What are you doing here?” Samar stopped in his tracks. Atharva stood there, on his doorstep. It was, in truth, Atharva’s doorstep. His outhouse. His mansion. His estate.
“How was the offsite?” Atharva asked distractedly, eyeing the roof of the outhouse.
“Good.”
“You reached after dinner started.’
“Then why are you asking?”
Atharva stepped back from the door, studying the windows of the outhouse. There was a line of those, running the length of the wall.
“I am thinking of converting this outhouse into an employee’s quarters.”
Samar let the silence linger. Atharva marched to the back of the house, and came back after a long recce.
“Some of our talent has come from outside, and one of the outcomes at the offsite today was that they are not satisfied with their salaries, especially with the rent and utilities in Srinagar inflating the way they have been this past year. And the travel here. Rickshaws have started to charge a bomb. Adil said that was one common complaint. And I agree with him. We are here with our motivation set in stone. Not everybody can buy into it without any big returns.”
“Hmm.”
“Words, Samar.”
“Raze that Aamir Haider’s house across the wall and make a building there.”
Atharva chuckled. “No words, thank you.” He looked at him, coming and standing by his side — “You come into the main house, we will share the upstairs. This can be converted and offered as rent-free accommodation for our outstation staff if they want it.”
“And what if the number of staff exceeds the number of rooms?”
“Currently we only have eight outstation people. I figure, not all will choose to live in dorm-like rooms. But our responsibility is to offer, at least until the election is over or we can figure out another office space closer to the city. They save on rent, utilities, travel. Food is anyway served here all day. Shiva is managing fine.”
“And when this house fills up and there are still more people needing housing?” Samar pointed.
“First come first basis. If it’s full, it’s full. What do you think?”
“I am keeping my room, do whatever you want with the rest.”
“Are you sure? There will be people living here. Are you ok sharing?”
“My things are settled. I am fine.”
Atharva looked at him for a moment, then nodded.
“Let me know if you change your mind. The main house is always open. I will catch an architect tomorrow and pull out old plans for this one. We may need to do some work on plumbing and heating.”
Samar tipped his chin, pulling out his key and opening the main door. He heard Atharva’s footsteps recede in the background.
Without putting on the lights in the long hall, Samar walked through the dark to the furthest alley that housed only one corner room. He pushed the door open and switched on the light.
The bed was bare, just a sheet that he had changed this weekend. No pillows. His bag lay open on the table. His change of clothes.
It was winter, he wouldn’t need a bath. He could not take a bath or he would start feeling sleepy. He rubbed his hand over the swelling on the back of his neck. If he went to sleep with a possible concussion, chances were, he wouldn’t wake up tomorrow.
Samar divested of his jacket, pushed his feet out of his shoes and sat down on the bed. He turned to the window, the dark outside a contrast to the bright light inside. He went to switch off the bulb but stopped, realising it would instantly make him fall asleep.
Taking a deep breath, he crossed his legs and began counting the next areas of Srinagar that needed to be taken over.
Batamaloo was down, Khanyar was ongoing.
Shahr-e-Khas was next. Another Badamwari was not happening on his watch.
Her face invaded his thought map breaking the static.
And cleared away instantly. Samar shut his eyes.
Sleep was close. He popped them open, staring at the night sky outside the window.
And began plotting again — If he took Rainawari right now and controlled it, it would not only bring dominance over Shahr-e-Khas but also give Atharva leverage in negotiating with the Kashmiri Pundits he was wooing for funding.
Her face came again. And again he shut his eyes. Sleep again.
Samar opened his eyes, far from frustrated. In a battle between her and sleep, he had to choose wakefulness. And he always did what he put his mind to.
It would stop happening in a while.
It had to.
If he was looking at a relatively peaceful pre-election season in Kashmir, he would have to take over Srinagar by the end of 2011, and the rest of the important pockets of the valley by 2012. Only then could they start campaigning in 2013 without threats.
Her face began to appear again and he got to his feet. It went away.
It was going.