Chapter 19 #2
Aamir Haider had sent an entire platoon to their deaths, sent Chaturvedi to that torment where death was easier than breath. How did his daughter get to enjoy and roam around freely in this very estate?!
“Atharva wants me to go with him for some function tomorrow…”
Samar’s ears stood to attention.
“Atharva?” Amaal was just as shocked as him. “He… asked?”
“Why is that so horrifying?”
“Because it is the Kohli charity dinner tomorrow, one of his major business associates and a big potential funding partner for KDP. Kohli is a very important shark. But the most shocking…” Amaal paused. “Atharva has never taken a plus one to any of these functions.”
Samar hated that Iram Haider was changing that. What was Atharva thinking? Being a chivalrous fool and helping her was one thing. Taking her with him like a bloody girlfriend was…
“What’s going on?”
“Amaal,” Iram’s voice went deceitfully low. “There is nothing going on, are we clear? I think the invite just slipped out of him and now he can’t recede it. I just don’t know what to wear tomorrow… I mean, what kind of clothes do you wear to such functions. Is it formal or Indian or what?”
Samar knew these tricks. Women like these, they started innocent and then climbed to the highest rung of the order.
But now he knew her endgame. It wasn’t’ spying for her father’s party.
It was to get to Atharva. For what, he did not know.
But it was too damn coincidental that she came in with her innocent charm and naive words and ‘speech-writing’ talent and suddenly Atharva was putty in her hands.
She just knew which buttons to push and he was carpet. Rolled out.
Not on his watch.
“I don’t want to spend too much on a dress I may not be wearing again.” She was acting the poor little girl with Amaal.
“Don’t worry, we will work around your budget.”
“Will you come with me tomorrow? Show me there?”
“Try and stop me. Tomorrow is Sunday anyway…”
Samar wanted to smash the window shutter with his bare hand. Amaal had time to go shopping with this girl, but not to sit through his interviews?! He turned and stalked off, trying to work around this new development.
Iram Haider was turning his people, one after another.
————————————————————
“What’s wrong with you again?”
Samar glanced up from the makeup artist who was using her finger to cover his under eyes. He never gave these things much heed, but apparently the camera did. As did Amaal, because she stood there, eyes down on him, mouth thinned. That dimple was missing now, and he jerked out of that thought.
“Why is your face like that?” She snapped, not caring that they were surrounded by party members, crew and people of the press. Something had definitely snapped inside her that night when he had crossed the line.
“They are working on it.” He tried to settle the matter smoothly.
“I am not talking about the dark circles.”
Samar raised his brows.
“Come with me, please.”
That please was so painfully uttered that even he felt it. Samar got to his feet, slipped on his specs and followed her out of the suite and down the corridor. They kept going, away from the hotel staff milling around until she had walked out into the lawn bordering Dal.
“What happened to make you look like this again?” She turned on him.
He stared inquiringly down at her.
“Use your words.”
“Look like what?” He bit out.
“Like you want to kill somebody painfully.”
He wanted to throw somebody away. Preferably, before they become Atharva’s wife and produce his children and then one day push him off the roof. Samar stopped the chain of dark thoughts that kept breeding like rabbits. He did not want to mix his judgement with paranoia.
“Is it fine now?” He pulled a smile to his mouth.
“It is scarier. Stop smiling.”
He stopped. “What do you want from me?”
“To be normal. Normal, Samar. You have an election to fight. You are crusading to change a sitting regime. You cannot appear so unapproachable.”
“I always appear unapproachable.”
“No, you don’t. You appear closed for inquiry but ready to help.”
“That does not make sense.”
“Exactly!” She gestured to his face. “But at least it is better than this.”
He huffed. “Amaal, I don’t know how to change this.” He pointed to his face.
“That thing that is happening,” her voice softened. “Has it become worse?”
He nodded.
“Talk to somebody. Talk to Atharva or Adil, or Qureshi. Maybe they can help.”
He remained silent, unmoved.
“Ok, ok, let’s… something funny. Think about something funny. Quick. We don’t have time.”
“I don’t have anything funny.”
“Oh come on!”
He stared at her, at a loss. Her eyes kept flitting from side to side, rolling up and again side to side, thinking.
The blue was now bright, cerulean, and so…
unimaginably unique. He had seen Kashmiri eyes, exotic eyes, bright-coloured eyes.
Hers were… heavy with something more than just light.
They were heavy with purpose. Shining with purpose.
“Just kill me, someone!” She ranted, unable to come up with anything.
“With a Clock?”
Her eyes widened, and whirled straight to him. She shook her head — “Tell me you didn’t.”
He felt his mouth curl up.
“No, no, no, tell me you didn’t make a joke.”
“I didn’t make a joke.”
“Daaxsaaab!” Her face burst into bright beaming light, and her head fell back laughing. He felt his own chest rattle, looking at her infectious little expression. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her nose was scrunched up, and her face was tipped up to him. She was glorious.
“You still remember? I had forgotten,” she was shaking her head, her hair shaking with it. Her eyes popped open, and she did that thing again, taking both her hands and tucking her hair behind her ears and then back over her shoulders.
“I haven’t been able to look at a Glock the same ever since.”
“Why do you even need to look at a Glock as a respected future MLA of Jammu… wait a minute, don’t answer that.”
He smiled, knowing that she knew what dark alleys he frequented. Or at least, she guessed now.
“That’s better.” She circled one finger around his face. “Now hold that for the next four hours. Go.”
“Aren’t you coming?”
“I have to take care of something else.”
“Work related?”
“You overheard last night. So, don’t ask.”
“How do you know I did?”
“You walk like an elephant.”
He was the stealthiest man in that outhouse. But then, he had made no effort to silence his departure last night, too far gone to care.
“Is it ok for Atharva to take somebody from the party like this? Won’t it backfire on you?”
“Why would it?”
“It might get people talking about the wrong kind of things.”
“Plus ones from work are common at such parties. Iram is his speech writer, it’s not a problem.”
Samar stared at her. Then he turned around to leave, but felt her grip on his elbow. He stopped.
“It’s again going bad,” she warned. “Keep thinking about the Glock all through the interview.”
“It’s not funny again and again,” he said over his shoulder.
“Then think about the video game you lost.”
“I won.”
“Huh? I don’t remember it that way.”
Before he could turn around and debate that very controversial topic, she had left his elbow and was walking away. Her shoulders were vibrating. And he thought about that infectious sight all through his interviews that day.