Chapter 32
Samar fastened his seatbelt, and his eyes glazed over the clouds. He didn’t want to come back to Srinagar. The last weeks in Jammu had been better. Quieter. Peaceful.
Atharva had made sure to keep him mostly away in the days leading up to his wedding. Jammu had needed him to oversee everything for the upcoming campaign, and as the founder who owned Jammu’s working, Samar hadn’t minded the grunt work one bit.
He had stayed away happily this time, travelling to and fro when needed, having given up on Atharva.
He could not wake a man who was pretending to sleep.
He would have chosen to stay away even today, on his wedding day, if it hadn’t been for the optics.
The plane dipped, and his eyes hit the city of Srinagar.
A city he had adopted out of his kinship to Atharva, Adil and the SFF.
A city he had given his prime years to. A city where he had raised a militia from the ground up, sniffed and inhaled and imbibed every nook and cranny, known without really ‘knowing’ every family, elder, child, mother, protected what could be protected and healed what couldn’t be; only for it all to be snatched away in the blink of an eye.
A city where he had met Amaal… his mind stuttered.
Samar huffed, a strange thrill taking over his hard-earned calm. The plane touched ground, and as if all the mud and marsh had fallen away from around him, Amaal’s name did something strange to his being. The thought of seeing her again after long days… thrilled him.
As the plane taxied, he took his mobile off airplane mode. And a horde of notifications fell through his screen. His eyes, though, zeroed in on only one.
AMAAL
When are you landing?
His fingers didn’t even hesitate as he clicked to reply.
SAMAR
Landed
Her reply was instant.
AMAAL
The safa people are waiting for you, quick
His eyes squeezed shut. The drama that awaited him on the other side. He hoped they weren’t going crazy with this wedding.
SAMAR
You work for a political party, not a wedding planning company
AMAAL
:D
Even you can’t irritate me today
SAMAR
Hmm
AMAAL
You and Qureshi are hosting the reception party
What are you planning to wear?
SAMAR
Clothes
She went offline. And in spite of the gloom of the day to come, Samar found his mouth twitching. The plane taxied to the terminal, and everybody was already up on their feet.
His mobile went off. Nasir, his informant outside the Awaami office.
“Yes?”
“Some legal documents are being prepared with Atharva Kaul’s name on it.”
“What documents?”
“I wasn’t there at the shop. My boy xeroxed it. He didn’t understand anything.”
“Were they stamp papers?”
“No. Not stamp papers.”
“Ok.”
Samar ended the call and thought about it, getting to his feet.
The line moved, and he moved with it, thinking hard.
The voting was over in all of Kashmir. Everything was sealed and done for half of the state.
What would Sayyid Butt do now before Jammu?
What would turn Jammu away from Atharva and eliminate him all at once?
Atharva’s life was definitely not in danger if legal documents were floating with his name on them. But it was his wedding day and this was floating. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
Legal documents meant two end goals — either the court or the police station. Without thinking, Samar pressed his first Favourites contact. Faris cut the call on the first ring. Fuck you! Show some loyalty.
He opened his chat to tell him the same thing when his mobile rang. A landline number.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
Samar gritted his teeth but understood Faris’s constraints. Atharva was really taking the expertise out of this militia by taking it into his clean hands.
“I am texting you some details,” Samar said, cognisant of the ears around him. “Research and find out what’s going on in the next hour.”
“That urgent?”
“It’s an emergency…”
“Tell me about it!” A businessman rolled his eyes in front of him as he exited his seat, mobile to his ear.
Samar returned his exasperated smile with a nod of his own.
He adjusted his specs and looked down at himself.
Formal shirt, formal pants, face shaven clean, tamed appearance. Who could guess what he was capable of?
“Namaste. Thank you for flying Air India, welcome to Srinagar,” the air hostess folded her hands. Samar walked out into the bright spring Srinagar morning. What a day to return.
————————————————————
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” he intoned, stepping out of his cab and taking the outstretched hand of Rashid Ali.
He was the President of Awaami Party, reduced to nothing as soon his master, CM Mohsin Sheikh, had died.
He was now President in name only. Sayyid Butt and Sufiyaan Sheikh had all but hijacked the party.
“I was curious when you sent this location.” Rashid Ali smirked, glancing around him at the deserted stretch of road behind Hari Parbat.
“Don’t tell me you were ok meeting a KDP leader in broad daylight in a public place.”
Rashid Ali chuckled, glancing at the cab. Samar eyed it too — “He is a trusted friend. Rest assured.”
“You tell me what is it that you brought a trusted cab driver to this silent road?”
Samar pushed his hands behind his back. “Something is happening at Awaami, something against Atharva Kaul.”
“And you are close enough to Sayyid Butt to figure it out.”
Samar’s brows rose.
“What?” Rashid Ali smiled. “I am still the President. I know what goes on under my nose.”
“Then you also know what’s going on about Atharva Kaul.”
“And I would share with you why?”
“Because you don’t like Sayyid Butt and Sufiyaan Sheikh.”
“You are their friend right now. Who is to say you won’t run to them with this little whisper?”
“What more can they do to you?”
Rashid Ali went silent.
“If, on the other hand,” Samar offered, “you help me figure this out, you may be looking at a renewed chance at helming your party.”
“This election is Sufiyaan’s. There is no disputing that.”
“The voter turnout in Kashmir was 20% higher. And whenever voter turnout has risen sharply like this, the sitting government has tumbled.”
Rashid Ali stared at him, clearly conflicted.
“I don’t know the details,” he said, finally. “But everything about Mohsin’s accident has been collated in the last week. They even ordered dossiers on Mohsin’s murder’s media reporting and PR from our office.”
“What can it be?”
“My guess is that they are building out media strategies around Mohsin’s death.”
“But that topic is old. Sympathies have been cashed in…” Samar stopped talking. Unless, they are planning to resurrect it. Legal documents with Atharva’s name. Case? To be filed?
“Anything else you can think of?”
Rashid Ali shook his head.
————————————————————
Samar reached the wedding in time for the signing of papers.
The celebration went on around him while he worked to wiggle his fingers through the police contacts where none existed anymore.
Faris had been the front before. He wasn’t picking up his phone now.
Samar sent out all the information he had collected from Rashid Ali. Still no response from Faris.
Evening was falling when his phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“Tell me.”
“You were right. They are catching hold of Atharva in Mohsin Sheikh’s murder case. The plan is to lift him from his house today or tomorrow. The courts will be closed for the weekend.”
“Find out all the details of the filing. This time do it in the given time,” Samar spat and ended the call. He caught Noora — “Where is Atharva?”
“With his new wife, of course,” the cartoon batted his eyelids. Samar shoved him aside and stalked down the outhouse to the garden. It was lit up now for the evening reception that he was supposed to host.
“Where is Atharva?” He asked Amaal.
“Hey!” She met him grinning, taking a breath. Her cheeks were red.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Why?”
“You are panting.” He frowned. “And smiling.”
“I smile all the time.”
Samar stilled, eyeing the space behind her.
Khalil Khan was standing with a group of people, eyes on Amaal’s back.
He met Samar’s eyes and gave him a polite smile.
Samar felt his jaw clench. He nodded. When he looked back down at Amaal, her cheeks were still red, the dimple as big as her blue eyeballs.
Samar felt a shot of jealousy rumble through his forearms.
“…I am talking to you…” Amaal raised her voice, and he realised she had been saying something.
“Hmm?”
“What is so urgent for Atharva? You look tense.”
“Yes… umm… where is he?”
“At Iram’s house. They will come down any minute now…”
A round of applause rippled through the party, and Samar turned. Atharva was walking through the gate he had newly installed between the two estates, Iram’s hand in his. The crowd gathered around them. Samar began to walk too when his mobile rang again.
He stepped back and stalked out of the main area.
“Hello?”
“It’s me again.”
“Say.”
“Sufiyaan Sheikh might plan something while Atharva is inside.”
“Be specific.”
“This is specific. His men were seen at the police station where Atharva will be brought.”
Fuck this.
“Take the militia around the area too.”
“I don’t have orders…”
“Use your bloody brain and do it then.”
Samar slammed his hand over the mobile screen and huffed. He turned. Amaal stood there, eyes wide — “What is happening?”
“Nothing.”
Samar did not wait for more questions to erupt. He walked into the party and through the gatherings, weaving until he could see Atharva. Thankfully he was alone, only Iram and Begumjaan to steal him from.
“…Janab’s humour is back with the love of his life.”
“Atharva?” Samar clapped a hand on his back. “Come meet Colonel Asgar. Excuse us, ladies.”
Colonel Asgar had been dead for ten years. That is why Atharva came without question, his body loose and flowing as Samar pulled him out and behind the outhouse. Away from roving eyes and ears.
“You are going to be arrested.”