Chapter 36 #3
He coughed, turning away from her, too. Silence returned to the car, but it was awkward this time, like the old days. A knock on her window made them startle. A man stood with two steel plates steaming with rajma over beds of rice.
Amaal pressed the button and accepted the plates, eyeing the waiter exchange raised brows and a smile with Samar.
“Hmm.” She passed his plate along, and they dug in.
The taste of this rajma chawal was just as it had been then.
And eating it fresh and steaming from the shop added that extra layer of relish.
She did not see left or right, stuffing her mouth full like there was no tomorrow, drinking from the ice-cold matka glass of thick chaas tempered with salt, jeera and coriander.
The taste of earth in the chaas made her want to keep drinking.
“Aah!” She sat back, wiping the chaas moustache and depositing the plate she had cleaned on the dashboard.
“Your appetite is a lot better than it used to be.” He picked up her spoon and stowed his own plate over hers, collecting all the utensils and stacking them.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing in doctor land?”
“Good.”
“Hmm.”
He glanced at her.
“Samar.”
“Amaal.”
“Khalil and I…”
“Just tell me if you are happy or no. I don’t want to know the details.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t need to know them.”
“I just said I was happy.”
“And then you didn’t talk for a whole ten minutes.”
Her lips pressed together. The glass on her window was tapped again. She pressed the window down and passed their utensils out. Before she could, Samar leaned in and handed over the money. She saw his hand meet the waiter’s in a clap before he pulled back.
“Have you treated him, too?”
Samar shook his head.
“His family?”
He didn’t say anything.
“Samarrr!”
“Hmm?”
“Answer.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t even practice medicine regularly. How can you have so many patients across Jammu?”
“I redirect them to specialists when they come to KDP camps, but the first line of treatment is mine.”
“So, you are the unofficial GP of Jammu?”
He rolled his eyes, putting the car in first gear and turning the wheel to merge into traffic.
“Can we go see your eye patient?”
“Hmm?”
“Panditji’s ice cream.”
————————————————————
They reached Panditji’s shop so late that he was winding up.
“I hope it’s not all over.” Amaal opened the car door and ran to the curb. The streets were lit brilliantly now, the lights all bright after Atharva’s first 100-day initiative to power all major roads and highways with solar.
“Panditji!” She called out. “Ice cream hai?”
“Haan?” He stared up at her from his crouch. The lights were better now, but his eyesight wasn’t anymore, she noticed, as he nodded, his mouth moving unintelligibly. He did not recognise her, of course. But as soon as Samar came to stand behind her, his squinted eyes began to widen.
“Daaxsaab hai?”
“Ji, Panditji.”
His wrinkled face broke into a grin, eyes going milky. He quickly opened his packed basket and began to fill a leaf with a small leftover slab of ice cream.
“Itna hi bacha hai.[106]” He cut the slab into tiny pieces and offered it up to her, two spoons inserted. She scooped one cold piece and popped it into her mouth, offering the leaf to Samar. He shook his head.
“Eat.” She pressed.
“You eat.”
“Eat, I am not going to eat it all.”
He scooped one piece and popped it into his mouth.
“Saalon pehle waada kiya tha Kashmir lautne se pehle aaoge.” Panditji rose to his feet. “Ab aaye ho?[107]”
Amaal smiled — “Aapko yaad hai?[108]”
“Phir?” He grinned. “Abhi bhi saath mein kaam karti ho?[109]”
The ice cream in her mouth melted and froze her brain all at once.
“Ji.” Samar answered for her. “Aapki tabiyat kaisi hai?[110]”
“Badhiya.[111]”
“Aankhein kamzor hoti jaa rahi hai.[112]”
“Maine bohot sambhala, phir bhi ab tak chal rahi hai![113]” Panditji joked, making even Samar chuckle.
A bike stuttered to a stop beside them. “Lo, mere pota aa gaya. Yeh bhi daactari kar raha hai. Aapki tarah dactar banne wala hai.[114]”
“Kaha padhte ho?[115]” Samar asked.
“GMC mein, Bhaiya.[116]”
“Bhaiya ne hi meri aankhon ka operation karwaya tha[117],” his grandfather filled in.
“Samar Bhaiya?” The boy pushed up from his bike.
“Bilkul, har election mein inko hi vote dena hai.[118]”
“Aapko hi vote dete hai, Bhaiya![119]”
Samar nodded.
“Chalo, Daaxsaab, main chalta hoon. Kal ki tayyari bhi karni hai. Abki baar jaldi aaoge ya phir panchvarshiya yojna?[120]”
Samar stalled.
“Jaldi aayenge, Panditji,[121]” Amaal promised when Samar did not say anything. He stepped up to pay him, but this time Panditji was faster. He hopped onto his grandson’s bike and tapped him — “Chal, chal.[122]”
Amaal was left staring at a stunned Samar, standing on the curb of the road with money in his hand. He turned to her, his mouth open, and she burst out laughing.
“Your ice cream will melt,” he grunted, glancing at the money in his hand.
“It’s finished already.” She held the leaf upside down. Not even a rivulet of melted milk was left.
“Let’s go.” He pushed the money inside his pocket and began walking towards the car.
“Samar?”
“Hmm?” His head turned over his shoulder.
“Khalil and I are not together.”
He halted.
His body turned completely towards her. The wind howled, and the traffic zipped past.
“We went out for a few weeks,” she said. “We tried to patch our long-distance and timings. It didn’t last.”
“Because you both are far away from each other?” He asked.
She shook her head.
“Then?”
She shrugged.
“But Varun…”
“He knows Khalil, and saw a Facebook post that was not even supposed to be uploaded. It was taken down immediately.”
“What post?”
“In a moment of drunk fun he changed his status from single to in a relationship with me.”
“Bu…”
“Three of his friends saw and we deleted it.”
Samar nodded, looking away at the zooming vehicles on the road, his eyes wide. She sensed that he himself didn’t know that his eyes were wide. Or that he was nodding. She had never seen so much movement in his body before.
“Can we go now?” She asked, hoping to break his shock.
“Yes,” he startled. “I mean, hmm.”
He whirled and stalked off to his car. She followed him, opened the passenger door, and settled into an interior that felt like a sudden vacuum.
He drove through town, and she only spoke to supply directions.
He did not ask anything else. He did not ask anything more about Khalil.
Or her. Or her life. But he did not need to.
The silence was charged enough to tell it all.
She could feel it. Something. Something dark.
Something deep. The kind of electric feeling that was asleep, latent, but there.
Charged now, more palpable than it had ever been, it made her skin feel tingly.
She swallowed, without a sound. And the veins in his neck tautened even though his eyes were straight ahead.
Amaal inhaled, the sound hitching the air in the car.
And his Adam’s apple worked a swallow, audibly, eyes behind no-nonsense specs fixated on the road ahead.
The silence was screaming. The night outside was piercing. Then they reached her house, and he jerked.
“Are you serious?” His eyes widened, looking at the vast bungalow gates in front of them. Samar glanced left and right. “You live here? Since when?”
“Khatriji has a house here already. So he offered me his government accommodation because my rental was far away from the Secretariat.”
Amaal got out of the car, walked to the gate and opened it.
He drove his car through the paved driveway that was long enough to accommodate a line of Z security vehicles.
The bungalow itself was big enough to accommodate twenty family members.
It was a single storey bungalow with four gardens on all four sides, seven rooms, two kitchens and two grand halls.
Samar got out of his car without even turning off the headlights or shutting the door and came barreling towards her — “What the fuck is wrong with Atharva? He is letting you stay here?”
“He does not let me do anything. I am responsible for my own housing.”
“Where are your watchmen?”
“He will come by 11 for his night shift.”
He stared at her, incredulous.
“I am not even home in the day!” She argued.
Samar turned away from her, walking to his car and retrieving his mobile.
“Who are you calling? Don’t you dare call Atharva…”
“Hello, Faris.”
She stopped in her tracks.
“Those Jammu robberies, they are happening on Wazarat Road, right?”
“They are not happening in this lane!” Amaal whisper-shouted at him. He held up a finger, listening.
“Where… yes, right now.”
“Samar!”
He turned away from her, walking towards the bungalow, dismissing her as if his phone call was more important than what she was saying.
She stared at his back, at the way he was talking.
No robberies had happened in her lane! He kept talking, his voice getting muffled as he went farther and farther away from her.
She waited for him to turn back, to finish, to listen. But he was on his own mission.
And finally Amaal snapped.
“Samar!” She stalked behind him, picking up speed to physically snatch that mobile off his ear if she had to. “Samar!” She yelled. He did not turn. “SAMAR!” She bellowed. “You are not…”
He turned around and caught her in his arms, twirling her with the momentum of her body and pushing his mouth over hers.
Her voice cut off. As did her breath.
She stumbled, still twirling until his body pressed her close to his and his tongue pushed inside her mouth. Her stomach clenched.
Strong fingers meshed into the hair at the back of her head and angled her head.
Amaal could do nothing but flow with it, feeling not only his tongue but his entire being inside her as he pressed her head closer to his, feeling the edge of his specs bite into her skin and relishing the pinch.
Tears burst out of her eyes and she wracked, finding her body curving backwards to take him even as everything inside her was at war with each other. For what, she didn’t know.
He pulled back.
Dark eyes peered into hers, a strong hand holding her waist steady. “I don’t want to say I am sorry,” he whispered. “Are you crying because you didn’t want this?”
“What the hell was this?” She glared, panting, tears streaming down her face.
He stared, silent, looking appalled.
“What the hell was this?!” Her facial muscles began to crumple.
His throat worked a swallow, eyelids falling down until dark eyes were lowered. His arms began to loosen from around her.
“What the hell was this, Samar?!” She hollered louder and made his arms freeze where they were, half on her, half off. His eyes still remained lowered.
“This.” His scraped voice sounded. “Us.” His eyes rose. “If you still want it. If not, I am genuinely sorry…”
Her eyes widened.
His arms began to lower from around her.
“What’s the guarantee that I am not staring at the man I last saw in Srinagar?”
His mouth tightened. But Amaal saw hope flicker in his eyes. He was so expressive suddenly, or had he let another window open for her?
“There is no guarantee of life itself,” Samar said to her; solemn, brutal, honest. “But I am not here to cause anybody any harm knowingly, and if I can manage, even unknowingly. Least of all, you.”
“Why do you want this?” She snarled, stunned, tears still flowing down her cheeks and into her neck. “After all this time. Why do you want this?”
His thumb came to her jaw and wiped it clean. “Because I think now I can finally be the person who will be ready to work to deserve you.”
Her head felt too heavy to hold up, falling forward. And his hand was at its back again, pushing it to his mouth.
“Hmm?” He whispered on the skin of her forehead.