Chapter 27 #2
“Ooooooooooooh,” he threw his head back and let it all go. Quietly.
That cigarette got over in a heartbeat and he reached for another when his eyes fell on a figure walking in the garden. Atharva.
His hand froze.
What was Sayyid Butt planning for him?
Samar took a puff, thinking. He had an in to find out. And damn if he wouldn't take it.
The second cigarette got over and Samar slipped the pack back into his jacket pocket. He pushed off the car and walked to the garden. The ice had thawed, the grass beginning to bloom. He glanced at the bushes. Which ones were Amaal’s lilies?
A thump. His head rose. Atharva had sat down on the grass, staring up at Aamir Haider’s house. Samar went closer, keeping his steps light. Atharva was looking at Iram’s house as if somebody had stolen his car.
“Who stole your toy, little girl.”
Atharva’s eyes cut to him. “Get a life.”
Samar sat down beside him.
“How is everything in Leh?” Atharva asked, still looking up at Iram’s house.
“Everything is smoothed out. Nobody will bring Iram’s name into the mix. I spoke to the railway police and local authorities personally.”
“Is everything else settled there?”
Sufiyaan’s men.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Here’s where you thank me for maintaining a discreet little army.” Samar pointed, seeing how lost he looked tonight. He had been depleting over the last few days. His symptoms were under control, though.
“Do not say it out loud. I did not hear you. Zorji will wring our necks for even discussing it.”
Samar laughed, the sound grating at his drying throat. He needed another puff.
“Now we can finally put Leh behind us. One tension less.”
“Speaking of tension…” Samar interjected.
“Don’t start. I did nothing to him.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“I didn’t touch him, if that’s what you mean.”
“What did you do? What did he say?”
Atharva frowned — “What’s with the gossip, little girl?”
“Do I have to start another damage control mission?” Samar glared at him. Atharva had gone to offer condolences to Sufiyaan Sheikh’s house today. Alone.
“He may have rammed his groin into a table’s edge. A very sharp, wooden edge.”
“The f…” Samar exclaimed. Atharva would one day give him heart problems with damage control. “Cameras?”
“Eight.”
“And?”
“My foot slipped, I knocked into him, he knocked into the table.”
Samar palmed his forehead. “You shouldn’t have done that…”
“I should have done more than that!”
He went silent. They lifted their heads and gazed up in unison. Sky, moon, stars, those things. Where Samar knew Atharva saw all of that, he saw nothing.
“So, what’s the plan now?” He asked, fumbling in his jacket pocket. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Atharva pinching the bridge of his nose.
“What is it? You still having headaches?”
“No, No. No breathlessness, no bad headaches, nothing from smoke inhalation. Relax. I’m just… There is so much on my mind right now. You guys have to start campaigning in your constituencies too, I have to contest from two places. And in all this…”
“Adil is still not back either,” Samar stated. Then observed Atharva for any signs of confiding. None. He showed none. Their friend was kidnapped and Atharva wouldn’t even trust him enough to tell him, to hell with the recordings! Now he was determined to have them, one way or another.
“Did he contact you?” Samar pushed. Atharva and Adil had made up a great little story and sent Adil to his family home when they had left for Ladakh.
“He will be back soon.”
“He messaged me ‘No questions asked.’ So I didn’t pry. But that was two weeks ago. He has never gone away like this. Aren’t you worried?”
“He’ll be ok,” Atharva looked up at the sky again.
“You know something.”
“Don’t worry about it, Samar.”
“Fuck you, Atharva! Talk to me. For once talk to me about what’s going on.”
Atharva looked at him, terse, Captain Kaul — “Don’t worry about it. He will be back before he is needed.”
“He has gone away for your work. Yes?”
He didn’t react. And Samar let out a disgruntled laugh — “You know, in SFF, everyone called me your favourite. But it is Adil who you always quietly favoured.”
“I didn’t save him food on our missions,” Atharva pointed out.
“And yet, only he knew your strategies before everybody else did.”
“You can’t be jealous, little girl.”
“Trust me, I would have preferred to have your strategies over your rations!” Samar snorted. “I know things have not been great lately. But don’t worry. We will get through this. If there’s something that’s troubling you, you can tell me. We will deal with it together.”
“My cross to bear.”
“That’s what you said as my Captain too.”
“Still holds true.”
“And I still have your back.”
Samar reached inside his pocket and pulled out the box. He held out one cigarette, and Atharva’s brows rose. But he accepted it and pinched it between his lips — “You started again?” He managed from the corner of his mouth, leaning in as Samar flicked the lighter.
“Just for today.”
“Liar,” Atharva smirked, taking a puff. “If you just got this for today then you wouldn’t have a lighter.”
“Being with Iram has made you very… woman-like observant.”
Atharva passed the cigarette to him — “Agreed. I was more observant when I was with her.”
His ears stood to attention. “Was?”
“Working with Amaal lately has made you all… gossipy.”
His throat dried more, if that was even possible. “How is Iram?” He changed the topic.
“Good.”
“Why isn’t she staying at the big house? There’s better security.”
“We are worked up through the day here. She needs to rest.”
“Something wrong between you two?”
“You seem to have developed a soft corner for her suddenly. What, you looking for her to write your speeches now?” Atharva shoved a hand on his chest, his smile dry.
“You don’t look like yourself. I know now, it’s not physical. Your bruises are also lighter. Are you sleeping well?”
“You are the second person to ask me that today,” Atharva tried to hold a smile.
“Do you want to go for counselling? Take a few hours a week and talk to somebody about what happened?”
“What happened?”
“Atharva,” Samar caught his arm. “You rescued her. In that condition. I saw you. It cannot be easy to get over something like that.”
Atharva smiled, this time more genuine, his gaze going far away.
“I guess,” he said, “saving someone is like waking something inside you…Something that never goes to sleep afterwards, you know? It keeps you ready to defend them, fight for them, lay down your life for them. How does that happen? It’s like if you have done it once, you can do it more easily again. And again. And again.”
“Like b-cells,” Samar pulled a drag of his cigarette.
“What?”
“Our immune system produces b-cells against a pathogen once, and then these cells store the memory of that pathogen forever… reproducing instantly when it infects again.”
“Yeah, something like that.” Atharva pulled a drag for himself, blinked at the sky, and handed him his cigarette. He got to his feet, dusting his hands. “Go to sleep.”
“No sleep for the evil,” Samar muttered, staring into space.
“True.”
Samar couldn’t even laugh at that joke. He managed a small chuckle and felt Atharva’s hand slap his back as he ambled home. Samar continued to smoke.
————————————————————
He planned to open the outhouse door and go to his room. But he turned the corner and walked down the back of the house to the alcove of her window instead. The lights were off. All except one small lamp. Samar stood there, staring at the frosted glass in the pane.
He stood there for a long time. All his thoughts silenced. All his self loathing settled in the backroom of his mind. All the bad went calm. And finally, when he did not know how many minutes or hours had passed, Samar turned to leave.
The shutters shuddered. He stopped.
With a squeak, they fell open.
“What happened again?” She was yawning, rubbing one eye, squinting the other.
“How did you know I was here?”
“You are not very silent, FYI.” She tore both eyes open.
“I did nothing but stand.”
“On fallen leaves.”
Samar glanced down and cursed. How had he not seen what he was standing on?
“Go back to sleep,” he said, but did not find his limbs moving. They were stuck there, just as his eyes were on her. Mussed from sleep, hair all over her face, blue eyes drowsy but focused on him.
“What happened again?”
He huffed.
“Are you here to yell?”
“No.”
“Then are you here to talk?”
“No.”
“Then you just came to stare?”
“Hmm.”
“Huh?” Those rumpled blues widened.
“I mean…” he stepped closer. “I wanted to unwind before I went to sleep.”
Amaal pouted in deep thought. Even her mouth was extra round in half-sleep.
“How are you good at being half-asleep on your feet and still making complete sense of my words?” He wondered aloud.
“I am very good at a lot of things,” she crossed her forearms on the windowsill and leaned out. “What about you?”
“I am not good at things.”
Her playful face fell. “That can’t be true.”
He nodded.
“You mean to say,” she yawned. “You are not good at anything you do?”
He shook his head.
“Politics?”
He shook his head.
“Jammu?”
He shook his head.
“The… that-which-cannot-be-named things?”
He paused. He was good at maintaining the militia. But not at what he was doing with it currently. And so, he shook his head.
“Choking people by just holding their throats?”
A snort left his nose — “What?”
“You did it with that man in Jammu once, remember? Awaami’s youth leader… I forget his name. Right after we won? That night, remember?”
Samar felt his lips curl despite everything. He nodded.
“So you are good at choking people,” she pointed. “You are also good at curing them. You diagnosed my malaria when all signs and the season were for typhoid. And that stupid doctor said it too.”
Samar felt a full-fledged smile push up his mouth at the memory. Her face grew brighter, fresher — “And, you are very good at taking care of your people.”
His smile began to drop.
“No, keep smiling.”
His facial muscles froze, as if slave to her command.