Chapter 17
The opportunity came, sooner rather than later, and fell into his lap.
Only a few days later, Atharva found him in Adil’s office, where he had confined himself as usual whenever he needed space to work in the chaotic house.
“Can I come in?”
“The door is open.” Samar adjusted his specs, going back to the booth lists from Jammu. He would have to start taking more interest in Jammu again. The last few weeks had distracted him from one of his primary jobs in the party.
“How is it going?” Atharva clicked the door shut.
“Going.”
He came and stood there, leaning on the table. Samar glanced at him over the rims of his specs.
“You are going to say something that I will not like.”
Atharva nodded.
“Did she email your manifesto speech to Awaami?”
“She is not working for Awaami.”
“And how do you believe her?” Samar retorted. “This publishing bullshit can be a ruse constructed to fool us! I have been watching her…”
“Look I know you have issues but…”
“I don’t have any personal issues with her Atharva.”
“Who are you lying to?”
Samar stilled. It was personal. It was deeply personal. It was about Chaturvedi and him and everything that was not ok anymore.
“Fine,” Samar held up his hands.
“It’s been too long, Samar. We have to forgive the past, otherwise there is no future.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“No it is not. It is not easy for me to say and you know that,” Atharva countered. “It is no secret what happened then, we both know it cannot be forgotten. But holding it is only going to hamper our growth. Agreed?”
Samar gave a nod.
“Now, will you give her that interview?”
His ears stood to attention. So this was about that.
Iram Haider had started interviewing the founding members. He did not believe it was just to populate their manifesto and write tall tales about their SFF days. She was found talking for hours with Adil, Qureshi, even Zorji.
He smirked darkly at Atharva — “Why don’t you order me like you ordered Qureshi or Adil or Zorji?”
“You know why.”
“We are buying their sympathy, Atharva.” He stated what he plainly thought about her ridiculous idea. Crying about their woes in the military was not what soldiers did. Even if they had an election to win.
“No,” Atharva countered. “We are making them aware. We are telling them look what happened to your people when you swayed to swords and militants, we are warning them of fates that could have been theirs but were ours.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Follow the herd then. Qureshi, Adil, Zorji, they were all pretty happy doing it,” Atharva pointed out with a smile. Samar gave a half-hearted one in return, and turned away.
“Fine.”
He would make her regret she even entertained the idea of interviewing him.
When Atharva began to leave, Samar couldn’t help but see where he was going with this girl.
“But Atharva,” he called out. Atharva stopped.
“Be careful with Iram Haider. Before her, you were doing great.”
He did not listen. When did he ever?
————————————————————
It was an early Sunday morning, and Samar decided it was a good day to send Iram Haider packing.
He had seen her squirm and shrivel at his glances.
If it was a ruse, he would be sure about it after today.
If it was not, she would cry her way to whatever backstabbing hole she had crawled out of.
In either case, they would be rid of her.
He walked up to the main house and found her sitting on a chair in the verandah, lounging like some queen who owned the house. He took off his specs and tucked them into the V of his shirt. Some old forgotten rage inside him seemed to come alive at the mere sight of her.
He climbed the stairs, and she looked up, shocked.
“Hi.”
He nodded and perched on the stone balustrade nearby. “What are your questions?”
She recoiled. Whatever she saw on his face made her sit up. “Since you are so disgusted by the whole idea, why did you say yes in the first place?”
So she had spunk. Those shrivelling reactions were a good ruse.
“Because I couldn’t say no to him.”
“Uhhh… I am not prepared here…”
“Just ask whatever you asked others.”
“Uhh huh,” she scrambled, her fingers shaking only slightly as she reached for her laptop and messed around with it.
“Ok, so, Mr. Samar Dixit…”
“Dr. Samar Dixit.”
“Yes, my mistake, Dr. Samar Dixit, where… you…” she stumbled, then stopped. “Look, I am not a journalist so I don’t know what I am doing… if I say something out of line…”
“How did you do it with the others?”
She shrugged. “We just ended up talking…”
Samar looked away.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Jammu,” he answered, keeping his gaze off her.
Seconds ticked, and she said nothing. He glanced at her. “That’s the answer.”
“Right.” She looked down at her screen, then back up — “Why did you join the military?”
“Because I wanted to.”
“There must be a reason? Or someone inspired you?”
“No.”
“Uhh… ok, so… How… you were a doctor, right. So… How challenging was it, being a doctor on the battlefield?”
“Pushing in hanging intestines with hail pelting right inside my soldier’s open stomach and enemy just across the ridge we took cover behind. That’s not even the top 10 worst.”
She was scandalised. And rightly so. He did not pull any punches.
“How was your experience… in the military?”
“Good then bad.”
“What made you leave the military and choose politics?”
“Your father.”
She smiled. “So… how did Aamir Haider inspire you to become a leader?”
Target locked.
“He brought about the massacre of my company and almost killed me.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Safety unlocked.
“What happened Iram Haider? Can’t handle answers to the questions you asked?” He pushed his feet harder into the floor beneath them. “Then don’t dare ask again.”
“What did you say about my father?”
He plucked his specs from his shirt and slipped them on, then stood to his feet. “We are done here, Ms. Haider.”
“My father was a good ma…”
And fire.
“Oh shut up. Your father was a murderer and a traitor of the highest order. And you — stop going around like an angel in this Party. That Aamir’s Haider’s black blood flows through you and I have seen it show in your cunning acts.”
“Stop it, you don’t…”
“It’s good they killed him before he became CM.
Or we would be dealing with a bigger ruin than this.
Killed in cold blood right outside his house there,” he tipped his chin to the neighbouring mansion.
“I swear, had that not happened then, it would have happened some months down the line, at my hands.”
“Stop stop stop, please, just… you didn’t even know him.”
Round two.
“Oh, I knew him very well. And I know you very well now. Don’t think you can fool me along with everyone else Iram
Haider…”
She bolted out of the chair and dashed away, the coward.
“Iram!” Atharva’s holler made him turn. But he kept his eyes over his shoulder to see what she would do. She kept going, towards the short wall between the estate and her father’s house. Samar looked on as she jumped across. Pretty neat for a naive little innocent girl.
“What the hell happened?” Atharva caught his shoulder.
“She asked a question, could not take the answer.”
“What did you say to her?” Atharva turned him, seething.
“Why are you concerned? It was an interview.”
“Samar, if you have misbehaved with her…”
“I have not.”
Atharva shoved his shoulder. Hard. And stalked after her. Samar gaped. The lunatic ran and jumped over the wall too, going into that traitor Haider’s house like it was on fire. God, help me save this fool from Iram Haider.
“Samar!” Adil came running out of the house.
“What?!”
“Call your contact in Kishtwar, ask him what’s going on.”
“What happened?”
“A gang war broke out,” Adil held his mobile up.
————————————————————
“…but the Muslims started it…”
Samar heard the conversations around him — Adil, Qureshi, and some of the members that had come into the hall. He kept pinning areas on the map of Kishtwar where disturbances were getting reported.
“What’s wrong?” Atharva’s voice brought all voices to a halt. Samar glanced up, and he was standing there with her. Closer than two co-workers should be.
“Kishtwar is in flames, some Muslims are torching Hindu shops and houses,” Adil announced.
“What happened?”
“It started with a Hindu cycle rider who was trying to make his way through a procession of Muslims going for namaz,” Qureshi started summarising what they were all still piecing together.
“He apparently got into a heated argument with the members of the procession. Nobody knows how it happened but anti-India slogans were raised. This led to clashes between the two sides.”
“When.”
“This morning. It’s flared up in no time. The news is still embargoed but things look bad. State government is still ASSESSING the situation.”
“What do your sources say, Samar?”
“That the state security is encouraging the fight.” Samar gave him a look. He understood. This was looking like an orchestrated disturbance from the areas targeted.
“And our KDP office in Kishtwar?”
“Trying to calm the two streets where it is the worst,” Samar relayed. “But not enough manpower. Add to this local Police’s non-cooperation…”
“How serious?”
“Can turn into a riot.”
“Can or will?”
“Will.” This had the makings of one.
“We are moving then,” Atharva ordered, as Samar knew he would. He had already marked a tentative route of places they needed to raid first.
“Senior members in the team, we leave in twenty, Noora you stay here and coordinate. Fahad, inform our wing in Jammu to mobilise able-bodied volunteers, tell my assistant that I want Khatriji on the phone ASAP and after that connect me to DCP Sharif of Kishtwar.”
Samar shut the laptop and got to his feet. He was going to get things lined up to leave. After all, this was his area. But even as they were gearing up to run into a riot, Samar noted Atharva was busy looking at Iram Haider.
His teeth ground together.