Chapter 22 Everybody deserved one last chance…
Everybody deserved one last chance. Samar told himself this again and again as he walked towards Adil’s office.
He passed the Media Room, and her voice made him slow down.
She was talking about digital marketing at the top of her voice.
And Samar passed the half-open door slower than he usually would.
His eyes caught sight of the back of her head through the slit of the door.
Bathed in the morning sun, her hair was outlined in a sparkling glow of orange.
She started to turn, and he quickened his pace, taking his eyes off the room, hoping she hadn’t seen him.
Last night was injury enough. He had to retreat, like he once had.
Even an inch to Amaal was the threat of a metre.
And he had crossed a kilometre already last night.
Samar adjusted his specs and pushed Adil’s office door open.
“Hey, I was about to leave for Boulevard Road. You coming?”
“Yes.” He closed the door and strode in, taking a seat at his table. “How’s it going?”
Adil pulled off his own specs and tossed them on the table, rubbing at his eyes — “I can’t see my code straight. That’s how sleepy I am.”
“Did you party that late into the night?”
“Yes.” He lied without even a hitch, without even looking up. Samar had gotten an update that he had left the party early.
“What time did you guys sleep?” Samar asked. “I left very early.”
He yawned — “Me too.”
“You said you partied late.”
His wide mouth widened more, then he yawned more, throwing his head back on his seat — “1 or 2 am.”
“That’s not early.”
“Mmmm,” he opened his mouth to yawn again. “Let’s go. You are driving.”
“Wouldn’t let you even if you wanted to.” Samar straightened to his feet. They left the office together, walking past the rooms filling with the morning crowd. Samar raised his eyes from his shoes to the figure coming towards them, and his gaze collided with hers.
“Good party last night, Amaal and team,” Adil hollered to the open Media Room. Amaal stood on the threshold, arms crossing across her chest. As Adil stopped and bantered with the members inside the room, Samar was forced to stop too, beside her.
“…what time did you sleep?” Adil was asking Ehsaan as Amaal’s low voice reached him.
“You had a late night too?” She was casual.
“Hmm.”
“I look like a teacher talking to another teacher as my class makes noise.”
Samar snorted. And their eyes met again, laughing quietly at each other. True to her word, last night had been no strings attached and forgotten in the light of the day.
“PT teacher and English ma’am,” Adil grinned.
“ PT teachers.” Samar found himself correcting.
“Talk about yourself. I am the Computer sir.”
“Then he is the grumpy Bio Lab HOD.” Amaal pointed at him. Adil barked a laugh — “You don’t know how many frogs he dissects over treating.”
Samar cleared his throat.
“Anyway,” Adil waved a hand at the team inside. Then, loudly — “Do plan another party again. Permission is on me.”
Samar stepped back to let Adil precede him. He gave Amaal one last look and made his way out of the house.
“What’s happening in Haider’s house?” Samar asked aloud.
“What?” Adil opened the passenger door of his Innova and settled inside. Samar got in and started the car. “There was some movement there yesterday.”
“Maybe cleaners. Iram is here now, maybe she is cleaning it up.”
“That house has been sealed by SMC.” Samar turned the wheel and meandered down the porch and the estate road, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
“I think she claimed it back.”
“You think or she did?”
“Are you still sore about her?”
“1. I will never not be sore about her. And 2. Don’t use Atharva’s topic-changing tactics. You butcher them.”
“You need a smoke.”
“I haven’t smoked since 2005.”
“That is why you’ve not acted human since,” Adil laughed.
Samar let the jibe pass. One day ago, he would have laughed along. Today, he did not like it. He did not like his partners, his friends, his brothers-in-arms thinking that about him. And some petty, small, red-raged part of him wanted to show them just how not human he could be.
That equipment and the files would have incredibly important information for these lies to flow so easily. Or they had always flown so easily, and he had taken them at face value? Now Samar could not put anything past them.
————————————————————
“It’s only a 10-minute thing, this woman wants to tell you something about Awaami’s zafran scam…” Murtuza whispered to him, a tall man walking beside them.
Samar looked at Murtuza and nodded, striding across Amira Kadal. They crossed into the small settlement at the end of the old bridge. He followed Murtuza, the tall man now trailing behind him as they climbed up the steep wooden steps of a little house.
They cleared the dark stairs and emerged on the first floor. There stood Sufiyaan Sheikh, gazing out of the long windows, an armed man whispering in his ear. Samar stopped at the top of the stairs, not even trying to act shocked. He wasn’t a great actor.
“The woman.” Samar gave a nod, sending a chilling look to his man. Murtuza shrank, a better actor than him.
Sufiyaan Sheikh turned, covering one full, tall window. He was as tall as him, but built like a bull, half his face hidden by his beard. He adjusted his pathani’s hem and walked forward.
“Samar sahab,” he smiled. “Welcome.”
Samar stood, unmoved. Sufiyaan Sheikh nodded at the armed man by his side, who in turn nodded at the tall man behind Samar. They quickly left the floor, their footsteps thumping down the stairs.
“You too.” Sufiyaan Sheikh flicked his gaze to Murtuza.
“Oh… uhh…” the bastard acted like a pro, stealing glances at him. Samar did not spare him any. And Murtuza finally took quiet steps back until he was running down the stairs too.
“We both have heard about each other, but let me make a formal introduction.” He came closer, his hand held out. “Sufiyaan Sheikh.”
Samar glanced from his face to his outstretched hand. He kept his own bundled behind his back.
“Samar sahab, party rivalry and election battle on one side, eventually, we all have to work together. Whoever comes to power, the other will be sitting in the opposition.” He smiled, looking like a perfectly sane adult man. Samar knew otherwise.
He finally loosened his hand and pushed it out for a shake.
“Sit,” Sufiyaan pointed to the floor cushions arranged around the long, low table, taking one himself. “Please.”
“I won’t be here for long. Get on with it.”
“Can’t I have requested this meeting to get to know you? Sit with you? Talk about our collective futures?”
Samar remained silent.
“Sit, Samar sahab, sit. Sitting with me will not make you betray your KDP.”
Samar walked to the low table, then sat down in front of him, crossing his legs on the cushion. He set one hand on the table and leaned forward — “Sitting with you puts me on the same level as you. That’s not where I like to be.”
“Aah,” Sufiyaan barked a shocked chuckle.
“Waah! You and I fight on the same ground, in the same back lanes of old Srinagar. Your militants kill mine. Take the areas that belong to me. And you say we are not on the same level? Hippocrates ki toh sharam karo, Dr. sahab… arey arey, uski toh oath lete ho. And then you bring your militants to kill my innocent militants. Does this Dr. Dang behaviour suit you?”
“There is a difference between militants and militia.”
“Let’s not get into this debate. It’s never-ending, just like Awaami’s rule over Kashmir.
” Sufiyaan thumped the table with his palm.
“You tell me now, honestly, two months are left. Do you even see any hope for yourself in the valley? Atharva Kaul is begging Shahid Agha for a chance. It is not going to happen. A Pundit CM can never be accepted here. You, as Jammu’s Punjabi, still have better chance than Atharva in this state. ”
Samar stared at him.
“But that’s not why I wanted to see you.” He sighed. “It’s about something your party has that belongs to mine.”
Samar did not take the bait.
“Iram Haider.”
If that name, pronounced in this room, shocked him, Samar held his expression still. It didn’t take much effort. The way he had kept himself closed in the bombs of the last few weeks was a testament to his self-control.
“I hear you have a bone to pick with Aamir Haider.” Sufiyaan Sheikh’s lips tightened at the name. “Aamir Chacha.”
“You hear wrong.”
Sufiyaan Sheikh nodded. “But eyes and ears don’t report wrong.”
“Aamir Haider has been dead for years.”
“That’s not how you look at his daughter in your party.”
Silence.
“It doesn’t work like that, Samar sahab. I can’t keep opening all my cards and you sit with yours close to your chest.”
“I don’t have any cards.”
“But you do. You do not want Iram Haider to remain in your party. And I want her in mine.”
“It’s a free land,” Samar announced. “Relatively,” he added. “You are free to go and approach her.”
“If only.” Sufiyaan shook his head. “Your Party President guards her like a dog. I’ll be honest. Iram has been lost to us since the day Aamir Chacha died.
If we could have saved her that day, gotten to her in time, she would be with us at our party.
Her party. As her brother, I am appalled that she had to join your party in those circumstances.
We don’t even know how she lived for all these years, what struggles she faced.
But now that she is here, Sayyid Chacha and I have come to this conclusion — that Iram belongs here, back to the party that her father founded. ”
“And why would you think I could do anything about that?”
“Arrange for a meeting.”
Samar let out a scoff.
“I am serious. Arrange for a meeting. Your office campus is far out of the main town, plus it is not a place one can walk into easily. There is bad blood between Atharva Kaul and me, though I have only met him a handful of times. Allah knows what I ever did to him.”
“She is our star writer. Why would I give her to you?” Samar played the devil’s advocate.