Chapter 6
Iram searched for him. She kept running towards him. But the smoke between them was too heavy. It was blinding. Her eyes watered, her breath didn’t come. She pushed them out of her stomach, screaming his name with them. Another scream deafened her. A child’s scream. Gul.
Iram turned around and pushed up the hill, floundering, her hands out, trying to seek her.
“Gul! Gul!” She screamed — one more scream among many.
Nothing.
“Gul!” She reached the stall of chestnuts and a tiny tug on her pheran caught her attention.
“Khaaalaaa!”
“Gul?” Iram ran around the chestnut stall.
And there she was, huddled under the abandoned stall, hands fisted, eyes half-closed, half on her, head bent.
She bent to retrieve her but got shoved facedown instead.
Iram staggered, breaking her fall with her hands on the ground, quickly slipping in with Gul to escape the trampling.
“Khala, khala,” Gul cried, scrunching her pheran and pushing her head into her chest. Iram embraced her to herself, turning her away from the heat of the primus burning over the stall.
She rubbed Gul’s back, keeping an eye out for rushing footsteps.
People were tumbling over each other, running into and over each other.
She couldn’t see clear space between legs.
“Khala…”
“Shh. It’s ok.” Iram kept rubbing her back, not able to hear her own voice through the screams. People fell, and the heat over her back kept rising, getting unbearable even on this cold afternoon. She had to get out. If this cart tumbled or if the kerosene lit to life…
Khala… Ammi… Ammiii! Gul’s cries vibrated in her chest. Iram couldn’t hear them. Her ears were ringing, like they had on many such occasions.
Then she saw footsteps thin away. An opening winked at her.
From between legs and shoes, she could see a patch of clear road.
She put Gul’s head down and pushed her own out to check.
The smoke wasn’t as heavy. Clean air. She pushed her hand out and shoved, trying to create a gully between running legs, then pushed her chest out.
A hard elbow knocked the side of her head and sharp pain shot up her eyes.
They watered, and her vision blurred. A steely taste invaded her mouth.
Iram tried to breathe through it, tried to keep her upper body out to make more space.
A hand caught her bicep and then she was being hauled up, the world whirring.
She was whirled from between running bodies, and came face to face with Atharva.
Her mouth opened. No breath came. A sob rose.
But did not erupt. A gasp was ready. Did not push out.
The first syllable of his name on her open mouth — stuck.
He pushed his body between her and the crowd, forcing her away from the stall.
And reflex kicked in. She began to flow with him, bogie to engine. But someone was left behind.
“Gul!” She screamed, bodily hauling back. He pulled her but she clawed at his hand, pushing away and under the stall. “Gul!”
Before he could tug her again, she pulled Gul out, her body curving to safeguard the space.
Iram turned and recoiled at his horror. There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation though before he reached down and lifted Gul into his arm, his hand reaching for hers.
This time when he pulled, Iram went without thought.
They cut through people and smoke, running downhill.
He made way for her and she kept his back from being pummelled, her fingers locked around his hand.
The road was slippery, the people coming from both sides.
His hand tightened around hers, the back of his head constantly turning to seek her.
She tightened her hand and squeezed even harder.
It would have to be cut off at the wrist to separate her from him.
A loud crash echoed and she found her hand pushed out of his.
Iram floundered but he shoved her away and turned in time as a beam fell between them. A burning beam.
“Atharva!” She began to run to him but he jumped over the beam and took her hand again.
This time he pulled her under his free arm and pushed her face into his side, leading their pace.
She matched his steps, panting, not looking anywhere but at the road under their feet, anchoring her fingers in his shirt and nowhere else.
People pushed her into him and she was shoved away from him.
But he kept her tight in his side. And she held onto him, death holding onto the only hope of heaven.
Iram glanced up just in time to be led into an empty side alley where a car screeched to a halt.
The door was thrown open and Atharva shoved her in, sliding in beside her with Gul in his arms. It was then that she noticed it — he hadn’t run with her alone.
A whole entourage had run with him — his security, and Altaf.
He shoved inside the passenger seat and their car sped away.
She glanced out of the window and it was a whole convoy. His convoy.
She glanced ahead and the black of the seat in front of her blurred. Blast, smoke, Atharva, beam of fire, her babies… bad thoughts. Breaths didn’t come. They were stuck. Her eyes began to roll back. Black spots became blackness.
“Down,” strong fingers gripped the back of her neck and pushed her head down. Her first instinct was to fight. “Breathe.”
His voice. Atharva. Her mouth opened wide and she gasped, the breath stuck inside her finally bursting free. He had come. He had come for her?
“Phew…” she breathed through her mouth. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck and into his fingers.
Her chest felt like hers again. Iram finally felt the heat inside her begin to cool.
The world felt like the world again. She popped her eyes open and stared at the mat between her feet.
Then turned her head to look into blank grey eyes trained on her.
Their gazes held.
Her breathing slowed.
The space behind her eyes burned.
“Khala!” Gul’s mouth burst open in a wail. “Aaaah! I can’t hear anything… aaaaa… Khalaaa…”
Atharva’s eyes zapped from her to Gul in his arms.
“Ok,” his eyes gentled. Smiled. “Ok,” his mouth opening wide on that word. His head bent to look into her eyes. “You are fine,” he mouthed, pushing her hair behind her ear. He pulled his phone out, swiped the torch and checked her ear. She cried more, trying to jump to her.
Iram sat up and held her steady.
“Gul,” Iram came to her senses. She tried to smile, wiping her tears with her thumbs. “You are fine. Fine, Gul, fine… Atha…”
“It must be the shock and the loud noises, it will come back,” he nodded, massaging the back of her ear, caressing her cheek. “Water?” He reached down and showed her a bottle. She shook her head.
“Come here,” Iram opened her arms and Gul instantly crawled to her. She gathered her in her lap and took the bottle from him, tipping it to her mouth. The car was speeding, bumping on rough roads. The water splashed from her mouth. Gul cried more.
“Here,” Atharva’s hand came to her nape. He held it steady and Iram poured the water. She drank thirstily, whimpering.
“Khala?”
“Yes?”
“I can hear something…” she cried between sips. “Whistle.”
Iram grinned for her sake and patted her cheek — “That’s good.”
“Good?” She confirmed.
“Yes, very good.” She kissed her head, her eyes clashing with blank grey ones again. As if a scab had been torn again, all the bad came rushing back. This time she steeled herself and held steady, kept breathing, kept looking at him.
It was time. She had begun to trace her steps back to him and already he was here. She hadn’t prepared yet but she would. She would.
He was here. He was here. Here for her. Her.
Iram. Myani zuv. Iram Kaul. He was here for her.
She was Iram. She had been Iram for far longer than she had been Noorie.
She had been this girl, this woman, this human — and whatever she had been at whatever stage of life, he had a hand in painting a stroke of that picture.
She had taken it all away from him. All the colours, all the hopes, all the future and those two children.
And yet here he was. Across a barbed wire that was never without fresh blood.
She kept staring into his eyes, not caring where they were going or what the repercussions were until the car trailed to a stop.
She glanced up, and a winding road led up to some monstrosity of a hotel.
“We need to take Gul to my…”
“Later,” he cut her off, his eyes widening but only marginally. She knew that look. Don’t talk here.
Iram glanced at the two people ahead — Altaf and a driver.
She had never seen this driver. Iram nodded, eyeing Gul.
Her eyes were closed, her head lolling on her chest. Iram’s chest constricted; that warm weight feeling like everything.
A child, trusting you enough to fall asleep in a world like this.
She cupped her head and patted slowly. Gul whimpered but cuddled closer, scrunching her pheran tight.
“Bubble formation,” Atharva barked, bringing her eyes back to his face. He was still staring at her.
His side of the door was thrown open and it was a flood of his security. Iram frowned, eyeing him as he got down and reached inside to take her bicep.
“Keep your head down,” he murmured to her and helped her out. She did as he asked, holding Gul on her shoulder. And it was like she was engulfed in a human bubble of men — his security.
“Move,” he commanded, and like a well-oiled machine, they all began to move, her footsteps in sync with his. Her eyes caught the jacket sleeve closest to her and recoiled. It was wet, the steely iron stench heavy in her nostrils.
“Are you bleeding?” She gasped, not having a free hand to reach for him.
“It’s alright.”
She blinked, gaping in horror. The fabric was singed.