Chapter 16
A new day is equal to a new beginning. Amaal blazed into the Media Room the next morning with that same mantra that she had held tight after every long night.
“Good morning!”
The work was in full force. Music on high.
Nobody heard her, just as she liked it. At the onset of her time here, she had been the one to open this very room.
Now, as the KDP Media Head, she had the luxury of timings but not time.
She was taking calls even in the middle of the night, meeting prospective media contacts for entire days to woo them, carrying the weight of this party’s and its four mule-headed leaders’ images on her shoulders.
“These five images of Atharva Bhai for KDP Twitter today.” Their graphic editor, Rehana, swiped through her iPad.
“All good, except, pick the best four. The Twitter grid will automatically arrange them in a window, as opposed to five, where one would look weird and get cut. We want anybody who scrolls past this tweet to at least have the image of Atharva on the podium or behind the mic at KU, even if they don’t stop to read. ”
“Waiting for the tweet copy.”
Amaal sighed, approving the ten other things that needed her approval on the side.
Once she was done, she turned to Rehana.
“Atharva Singh Kaul taking Kashmir University by storm. Quote-unquote — I do not tell you what you should think. I can only show you the facts. How to think, what to think, to vote or not to vote for me, the decision should be yours and yours alone.”
“Not under 200 characters.”
“Then get it under. Use some editing power, Rehana.”
“Oye, you are here!” Adil’s voice startled her. She turned, and he was sitting in the corner, plate in hand. Iram, the new writer, stood beside him while Noora snuck food from his plate. Amaal wasn’t even surprised at half the things that went on in this room, in this party.
“Aaaww…” Noora stuffed Adil’s puff into his mouth. “A hot tea with this would be perfect.”
“For the last time Noora, you do not steal food from people’s plates!” Adil yelled. “Especially not when it’s their last bite.”
“You think too much Adil,” Noora pranced out of the room. Amaal chuckled, smothering a yawn.
“Had a rough night?” Adil stalked towards her, looking in high spirits.
“Didn’t get kidnapped by teenagers, if that’s what you are asking,” she gave him a teasing smile.
She had only gotten highlights, and been horrified.
Later, the joke had been repeated so many times in so many ways that it had lost its terror.
And, as was evident, Adil Hussain was doing perfectly fine.
“You sly fox. Making jokes with your boss now?”
“You are not my boss. Nobody is my boss.”
“Hail the woman!”
“Will you walk out on your own chubby legs or should I give you a kickstart?”
“Stop it you,” Adil giggled, making her laugh. He was the man she needed to kick off a day like this. She could talk to Atharva about anything, but she could be with Adil at any time of the day and recharge instantly.
“Anyway, I’ll be out of your hair now. You must have met Iram,” he opened his arm out to her.
Amaal nodded at her. She still looked nervous and out of place.
“She is the new writer Atharva hired. Iram needs to be initiated into our history and geography. She will be in charge of writing all press releases for starters, but not…”
“Before being approved by Atharva,” Amaal completed. “I know the drill.”
“That.” Adil snapped a finger, took three steps back, bowed and left.
“So, Iram,” Amaal tipped her chin. “We met yesterday. I am Amaal Durrani, head of KDP’s media. You’ve met my team here, I assume?”
“Yes. Hi… umm… Ma’am?”
“Amaal.” She chuckled. “Do I look that old to you?”
That loosened her up. Amaal got her to sit down and started her on the basics of their party.
She would have usually handed her off to Fahad for the initiation, but Amaal found a strange sense of kindredness with her.
It was like looking at herself in the past. Making sense of everything in a world that just didn't stop changing. Now she was used to spinning with the top that was KDP. At the time, when it wasn’t even a party as big as this, it had taken her a whole year to come to terms with the place, the people and her niche in here.
It had been a tumultuous year, for more reasons than one.
She snapped out of that thought of him. It had been gone now, whatever that was.
“…and finally,” Amaal finished her KDP intro on autopilot, “that is the garden where you can find me working from 4-6 in the evening, and sometimes in the morning too. Because I am multitasking and managing the gardening of this place as well.”
“Oh, of course.” Iram blushed.
“What happened?”
She shook her head.
“Tell me.”
“Nothing… It’s just that I have been seeing you tend to the gardens for the last two days so I thought…”
“That I was the gardener?” Amaal laughed.
“Actually, you are partly right. I am a part-time gardener. I mean, look at this estate, it’s such a lovely place to grow flowers and fruits in.
It’s the real Kashmir in Chinar and Almond trees that I am trying to recreate here…
” she murmured, suddenly feeling Badamwari bloom with a promise inside her chest. They were very close to making that happen.
“Besides,” she snapped out again and looked at Iram. There was something about her that was making her think deeper today, become reflective. Maybe it was Atharva’s odd reaction to her.
“There was a lull with our social media lately. We were struggling with regular tweets, our blog updates have been weak because of the lack of a good writer. And our Party President, who used to write, is too busy…” Amaal rolled her eyes. “But now you are here, let’s see how good you are.”
“Yes. Tell me where to start. I’m assuming English is the language of preference for social media?”
“It is, for now. Along with Urdu for our bilingual pages. Kaeshir will only be needed for speeches and such later on.”
“Oh, good. So, what do you want me to start with and where?”
“What, I will tell you. Where, you can decide. I mean, you can sit here and write, though I can’t promise to keep the group in control.
You see how loud they are? They play music and erupt into a dance every now and then…
the TV is always on, sometimes mute on news, sometimes they sneak sitcoms or music channels… so,” Amaal shrugged.
“Excuse me, Amaal, sorry, this is urgent,” Farooq held out their media-buying rough sheets to her. “This is the media budget you allotted to print ads for week 8, but we are getting a better deal at India Today if we throw in two exclusive interviews with our senior members.”
“How much better?”
“30% down.”
“Which publications?”
“India Today all over the country, plus all sister publications in the state.”
“Which senior members?”
“Founding members.”
“Ok, get them to 40%, give them Samar and Adil.”
“But Atharva Bhai? If he hears of more interviews with India Today…”
“Then don't run it by him.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Don’t run it by him before Samar approves it.”
That was always the workaround. Those two operated as yin and yang. And never crossed each other’s word.
“Sorry, where were we?” Amaal turned back to Iram. And spent a good chunk of her first hour giving her starters for her first day.
As Iram stood up to start working, Amaal had a strong feeling about her. A good feeling that she couldn’t place yet.
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The thing about a strong feeling was, that it usually passed.
With respect to Iram, Amaal’s feeling kept intensifying with each passing day.
She was not only sharp and talented with the written word but also refreshingly honest. Her work ethic was strong, but Amaal reserved judgement on that as it was still early days.
And then, one night, Samar stormed into her Media Room to make her doubt that strong feeling.
“Everyone, out.”
There were three of them, including her, and both began to rise to their feet.
“Sit down,” Amaal commanded, taking her eyes to the otherwise quiet man who never made a noise when entering or exiting a room. His face, as usual, did not give anything away. His formals hid the wildness inside him. She could see more.
“Media Room is occupied, we are not leaving until we finish this. Adil’s room is empty.”
“Everyone except you.” Samar clipped, staring at her. Amaal stared back. He was the founder, the leader and her senior. Did not mean she would not exert authority where she had it. This was her Media Room, her people.
Amaal got to her feet, her laptop tucked under her arm, and saw his pupils dilate slightly.
She turned to the two members working on their next big video series and nodded with a reassuring smile — “You guys carry on, we’ll take this outside.
” She turned and walked across Samar — “Come, Samar, let’s sit in Adil’s office. ”
As she left the Media Room with the man on her heels, she could feel all of it — his rage, confusion, even his uncontrolled mess. He had been going around like this for a while now. Unhinged. Unleashed. She had never seen him like this. Even his voice was louder.
Amaal opened the door to Adil’s office and stood to the side, leading this. He did not look at her as he adjusted his specs on his nose and walked inside. She stepped in after him and closed the door.
“Do not ever enter my Media Room like that again.”
His back tautened. Under the white shirt, it wasn’t as easily discernible as when it was when he wore those tight black T-shirts. But his shoulders had tautened.
“Iram is a spy.” He turned around, looking visibly calmer.
“Sorry?”
“Iram, your speechwriter is a spy.”
“Whose? Awaami’s?”
His chin tipped.
“How do you know this?”
“We caught her outside their office tonight.”
“Does Atharva know?”
“He is in his office with her. I just came out.”
“What was she doing there?”