Chapter 30
Samar couldn’t imagine a typhoid breakout could break this stalemate. But it had.
He had gone to Hajan with no expectation but to treat patients.
But the Mayor of the town, an Awaami biggie, had made his work difficult.
Atharva had landed there, and like alpha to beta, they had again slipped into the good cop-bad cop game they had mastered over the years, handled the Mayor, and if looks were anything to go by, turned him too.
That momentary camaraderie, even if in the midst of an emergency, had given him hope. If tempers were cooled, he would get a chance to explain himself better to Atharva. He just needed time, and Atharva’s patience to get through it until tempers calmed.
Samar trudged around the outhouse, rubbing at his jaw.
It still smarted from Atharva’s punch yesterday.
The night had fallen, but the outhouse was empty.
Almost everyone was at the main house or Boulevard Road.
Samar stared at the structure. It had once been just like this — dark, silent, lonely.
Long before KDP members had come and made this home.
He exhaled, closing his eyes. They burned.
The day of grave emergency had reminded him of his typical day in SFF, running and checking patients, a hundred and one thoughts, diagnosis, prognosis, names of medicines playing in his mind, hands numb after taking sutures, eyes burning without sleep or food. Working like clockwork on human bodies.
Catching a quiet corner behind the outhouse, he made the call he had been dreading.
Thirteen missed calls from Sufiyaan Sheikh and one from Sayyid Butt.
He pulled out a SIM card and started to insert it into his phone.
He glanced around, catching Amaal’s bedroom light streaming from her window.
But she wasn’t home. Amaal had left for a night out with her media team to celebrate one of their birthdays.
He wondered why he was looking at her window and thinking about her. Why did he even know her schedule?
Maybe it was because she had been the kindest to him today, aloof but kind.
He had been at home all morning, not turned up for any of his commitments.
And out of all the people who should have called to check, only Amaal had.
She was not that girl who had once walked around worshipping the idea of him.
It was all professional now. It gave him relief.
But as he was putting together the burner phone, his eyes still on her window, Samar couldn’t help but think of Sia.
Whenever he saw Amaal nowadays, his mind reeled back to her.
Sia Chaturvedi had been nothing like this kind, intelligent girl.
She had been a tough mind interwoven with threads of patriotism and misplaced passions.
Nothing soft, nothing warm about her. He had joked with her, quarrelled with her, bickered with her…
even wrestled with her. Never had he experienced anything warm with her.
Except, on that night when he had confirmed her suspicions of pregnancy. In captivity.
Sia’s tough personality had often kept him awake long after midnights in his cantonment clinic, sitting beside injured soldiers, dying soldiers, thinking about her iron core. Even when he knew she was gone.
Amaal didn’t make him stay up nights, she didn’t feature in his thoughts. He didn’t think about her or miss her when she wasn’t around. And then he realised it. He was thinking of her in the confines of his loneliness.
The small burner phone booted up. Grateful for the distraction, Samar dialled Butt.
“Oh ho, Samar sahab finally calls back,” Sayyid Butt’s cool voice emanated from the other end.
“Hello, how can I help you?”
“By ceasing your movement in Hajan right away, for starters.”
Samar perched on a low ledge. “Let Hajan come to KDP.”
“No.”
“You can’t do anything now. I was there, I saw it. Your Mayor is swayed. Spend a fortune on Hajan right now, or rest easy because anyway we are heading for a coalition.”
“And what if we don’t? What if you refuse at the end moment?”
“In your own words, Butt sahab — A complete majority will never be possible in this state, neither for you, nor for us. You take Muslim majority with the way Sufiyaan has been going about his rallies, we take Ladakh, Jammu and pockets. And why wouldn’t I join hands with you?
We have our deal. I am working here. Even though that has jeopardised Atharva’s trust.”
“What?”
“He knows about the train attack. My deal with Sufiyaan.”
“How did he find out?”
“I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.”
“If there’s a mole in my ship…”
“It’s in mine. But the point is, I need to regain his trust.”
“And that is through Hajan?”
“It’s a step. Don’t touch it now. Let it go.”
“Have I told you about that time I made three consecutive ruling governments in this state?” Sayyid Butt offered. “Not been in any, made them.”
“I know what you mean.”
There was a pregnant pause. Samar waited it out.
This was a dangerous three-side tag he was playing.
He was sinking hard and fast in this quicksand, not sure if he would remain in the party tomorrow.
All he had left were empty bluffs and hollow leverages.
And lord help him if he wouldn’t use every last one of them.
“I don't hand out favours for free, Samar sahab.”
“I don’t expect you to.”
“You owe me, then.”
“I do. Sayyid sahab?”
“Yes?”
“Why don’t you become the CM? Why Sufiyaan?”
“He has to.”
“And why is that?”
“Kashmir needs a young face right now,” Butt replied smoothly. Something in his casual tone told Samar this was the farthest from the truth. But today he wasn’t in a position to pursue it.
After hanging up, he ejected the SIM card and pocketed the phone. He tucked a cigarette between his lips and lit it up. With every puff, his shoulders relaxed. He started shutting his brain, trying to not think. But Amaal’s window was still in front of him, beckoning his thoughts.
A hard fist connected with his jaw and he winced as his cigarette butt burned his neck. That momentary sizzle was nothing on Atharva’s next punch. It made contact with his solar plexus.
“How dare you?” Atharva whispered-shouted, holding him up by the collar. Samar gasped, trying to breathe right. He knew he was paralysed for the second. He just had to keep going until he could breathe again.
“How dare you come and do this drama in Hajan!”
Samar let his muscles loose, relieved Atharva hadn’t overheard his phone call. He waited. And the moment he was able to breathe again, he pulled his arm back and punched Atharva in the face.
It was like a hand-to-hand drill session all over again.
Except, this time, they weren’t pulling any punches.
Atharva sure wasn’t, as he doubled down on him.
Samar pushed, ramming his shoulder into his torso to pin him to the wall.
Atharva somersaulted over his back like no years had passed and caught him by the neck just as he toppled down.
Another punch came and Samar felt his head explode.
Even as it exploded, he reached back, clawed the face behind him and pulled Atharva down in the dust over his shoulder.
Samar grunted, climbing atop his chest and pummelling him.
“Fuck you! Fuck you! You brought the enemy’s daughter into our camp!”
“You handed her over to my enemy!” Atharva blocked his blow with a forearm and toppled him back, climbing atop his chest, spitting into his side. Their hands, fingers, skin were slimy, bloody, sweaty. Samar opened his mouth but Atharva pinned him down by choking his neck. “You tried to kill Adil!”
Samar gurgled, feeling what his victims felt when he pressed on their carotids.
Hold your breath and use your knee, Atharva’s lesson to break a carotid chokehold rose to the fore of his mind.
Samar struck his knee into Atharva’s back.
The bastard moved, anticipating it. The movement brought him hovering up in the air and Samar pushed his torso up into his groin, decapacitating him long enough to break the chokehold and push him to his back.
“I did not…!” Samar coughed, his voice grating as he lay there panting. “Kill… Ad…”
“I don’t believe you,” Atharva was panting beside him.
“Why would I?!”
“I don’t know anymore!”
Samar finally caught his breath and sat up, feeling blood trail down the side of his mouth. He turned his head and spat — blood and saliva. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and turned to Atharva — “You left me no choice.”
Atharva let out a bitter laugh — “Still defending yourself.” He braced one palm on the ground and sprang to his feet. Samar kept staring, turning his head up as Atharva hovered over him in the dark. “I am ashamed to have known you.”
“It was my job to protect your back.”
“From whom?”
“Her.”
“She is not my enemy!”
“You don’t know that.”
“Listen, Samar.” He bent down to his face — “If you ever have a hope in hell of walking back into my circle, you do with respect for Iram.”
He stared, without blinking.
“I have indulged you enough. This stops right here. Grow the fuck up, learn to identify the grey in life, and stop swinging from your poles.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You tear out your skin for those you love but burn the existence of those you think have wronged you. There is no in-between for you. This is not the SFF, the world does not work like that. Iram Haider is not equal to Aamir Haider. Getting hold of whatever Adil was after does not bring you eternal peace, not even vengeance. Instead of channeling your energy after a dead man, turn towards yourself and see what’s going wrong. ”
Atharva stepped over his leg and stalked away, leaving him sitting there, gaping at his back. Samar sat there for how long he himself didn’t know. Pain wasn’t realised, nor were Atharva’s words. Except — Turn towards yourself and see what’s going wrong.