Chapter 14 #2
“No, Atharva, no. I am enraged too. What she did kept my friend in that state for months, away from home, away from all of us. I saw her when she landed. Ok? I saw her. I sat with her on that drive from Kargil to Srinagar. I see you. It is bad. But we don’t have to make it worse. Let me handle this.”
“How?”
“I have given her a leave of absence for now. She is not directly employed by the government so that is one headache less. I will speak to Samar about transferring her to one of Himachal Development Party’s leader’s PR team…”
“And she won’t take this gossip there?”
“She won’t.”
Atharva stared at her. “What is the dirt?”
“I will not tell you.”
“Amaal.”
“I will not tell you, Atharva.”
“You want me to waste the same resources again to find out? You know I will.”
Her mouth pursed. “Her family has tax evasions compounding to hundreds of crores, a large chunk of it is in her name as she has been a partner in her father’s firm since she turned major. It’s enough to tie her up in IT, ITAT and CESTAT.”
“Why CESTAT? What did she do with Customs?”
“Under invoicing of exports.”
“To Pakistan?”
“Among other countries. We ran background, it’s not for any ideology. Just money-making.”
"I want her out. Out of my parties, out of my city, out of the fucking world if that is possible.”
“Not immediately. She should think that the transfer is her punishment and that opening her mouth would mean worse. Let her bury this for self-preservation and let things quieten. Then I will slowly make things unstable enough for her to resign herself. Let it be amicable, Atharva.”
He sat silent.
“Atharva. Very rarely do I see you react so emotionally. This time, I cannot blame your reaction but what I am suggesting right now would have been your first idea if this were not you and Iram involved.”
He hated that she was right.
“Keep her within striking distance but cocooned under the party. At least for the next year, until things settle.”
He eyed her.
“Trust me. I will keep an eye on her.”
“I want her out of this state.”
“Yes.”
“Out. I mean it.”
“Got it.”
“Get Samar to transfer her immediately and revoke all her media access passes. I have already ordered Altaf to revoke her pass into my office and private spaces.”
“The transfer will take a few days, the rest will be done.”
He gave a nod.
“Great,” Amaal got to her feet, rubbing her hands. “So I will see you at home this evening.”
“I will still be here.”
“Ada is here, Mirza is here. They were planning to order pizza. I even asked Adil.”
“I am neck-deep here,” Atharva grabbed a file from his pile and showed it to her. “You all enjoy.”
She held her hands up — “As you wish.”
Atharva grabbed his glasses and put them on, burying his head inside the file. The moment Amaal left, he slapped the file back on his desk and pushed his head back on his seat. A moment. He needed a moment of peace.
His phone rang.
“Yes, Zafarji?”
“Sir, the railway project you inaugurated this morning has been vandalised. ‘Go back India’ was found sprayed on the walls.”
————————————————————
It was past midnight when he drove home, hoping everything had quietened and he would get a moment of peace here.
The day had taken a turn for the worse as soon as he had left the house this morning, going worse and worse.
He wasn’t even surprised anymore. Ever since Usama Aziz had been eliminated, his Secretariat had been a war zone, even when the streets of Kashmir had relatively quietened.
His intel was working overtime, telling him this was far from over.
The Haq Force was just getting started, recalibrating their efforts to destabilise the valley after two peaceful years when they had skittered into their holes.
And their master in Pakistan — Atharva had a name and a face to him now, was pumping maniacal amounts of money into it.
The rate per boy for stone pelting had gone from 200 per day to 500 per day.
“Sir.”
Atharva startled at Altaf’s signal and followed his gaze.
Rahim was standing at the gate of his house.
Hunched, taking the support of the gate's pillar, eyes squinted in the headlights of their cars.
He began to push towards his window as his car slowed for the turn into the estate but their convoy was quick.
“Why is this man standing outside?” Altaf relayed into his earpiece. Heard the answer. Then — “Send him away.”
Atharva collected his stuff, sliding his iPad into his laptop bag as the car stopped outside the main door of the house.
“He has been waiting here since this evening, sir. He came yesterday too but it rained and he left.”
“Hmm.”
“Should I ask them to barricade 100 metres up and down?”
“If it’s a security concern, then go ahead. I don’t have any personal bone to pick with him. Let him stand and tire himself. He will stop coming eventually.”
Atharva pushed the door open, stepped out and strode into his house and down the alley.
The lights were dimmed, the house asleep.
He opened his office door and reached his table, setting his laptop bag down and finding the bottle of water blindly in the dark.
He had no energy left to heat up the food or even eat.
He finished the water in quick gulps, knowing he had to go and check on Yathaarth.
Begumjaan had called him this evening with happy news — his son was slowly latching onto Iram, breastfeeding, spending time with her.
Atharva felt the twinge. A tiny, unwanted, jealous twinge.
He hated that he felt it, but he did. He was jealous of Iram for getting their son all day.
And he was jealous of his son for being so easily reunited with the woman they had both been born to love.
But he did not fight the feeling. Dr. Baig was right; it would come and pass. He had to let it pass.
Atharva sighed, reaching behind his desk and switching on the lights. He needed ten minutes to just be and then he would go up to his son.
He pulled back and did a double-take. His house of cards was still standing on his desk.
Atharva squinted, bending down to bring his face to eye level.
The top floor had moved a smidge, the angles of the bottom layer were greater.
How? He had Shiva come in to clean the room every afternoon.
And even if he did not touch it, the wind of working around was enough to topple it.
He went around the table and opened one of the three windows. Cool wind hissed inside. The house quivered. He waited for the top floor to blow away. It didn’t. Atharva opened another window. He started to feel the sting of the wind and a few stray twigs but the house did not fall.
He strode to the table and flicked the top. The entire house toppled. As one.
Stunned, Atharva picked it up between thumb and forefinger and found that the entire thing was glued together. He examined the edges, the joints looking shiny with dried Fevicol.
The wind rattled the half-open door and he glanced up, shifting to go and close it when Iram’s shadow darkened his door. He recognised even her shadow. How did he not recognise her anymore?
Atharva trailed his gaze up her legs, her tummy, her chest, her neck.
She wore a new pair of night clothes — a white frilly maternity top with ribbons over loose bottoms. She looked…
so beautiful. With her hair flying in the wind, her eyes hopeful, shining in the reflections of his office’s light, she looked like a new mother, soft and vulnerable.
“You did this?” He held the house up.
“If things fall, they can be put back together. You taught me that.”
He set the thing down and took a seat. “How was Yathaarth today?”
“He was… good,” she smiled, stepping inside his office. “He loves grandfather music.”
His lips curved at the thought of his tiny baby dancing to the beats of his gramophone. “His muscle memory has been updated from before birth.”
Atharva glanced at Iram the moment those words came out but she did not look startled. Or like she was going away from him. Instead, her lips remained curled in a soft smile.
“What was that song he smiled to first?”
Atharva chuckled. “You won’t like it.”
“Tell me.”
“Shola jo bhadke.”
Her mouth dropped open, the grin transferring straight to her sparkly eyes — “You played flirty songs to our son?!”
“I didn’t realise when the record turned. But he had a blast.”
“Ada has a whole playlist to dance with him.”
“She stole that from me.”
“I told her… some of the stuff.”
“Why did I think she would listen to me and let you be?”
Iram slowly reached his desk, her hands on the back of one visitor’s chair. “Thank you.”
He remained silent, not about to ask her something that his eyes were capable of communicating.
“For taking care of everything here behind me,” she enunciated. “Are you tired?”
You can’t imagine how much.
“I’m fine.”
“Did you eat?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
He smirked, feeling that thrill pass down his spine at the return of her investigation tactics.
“I can’t remember.”
“I’ll heat up the pizza. We also ordered pasta and I saved a white sauce box for you…”
“I am not hungry, Iram. Just give me ten minutes here and I will come up.”
Her tongue came out to wet her upper lip, then her lower lip went between her teeth as usual.
He thought she would turn around and leave.
But she pulled the chair and sat down. Atharva did not have the energy to ask her why she was hovering or deal with the consequences of his cutting words.
So he just closed his eyes and pushed his head back.
One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths. In, out, in, out.
Thoughts coming in, circling his mind, going out.
In, out, in, out… soft fingers on his forehead.
His eyes snapped open.
She was standing beside his chair, her face close to his head, thumbs jamming into his temples. How had he not sensed her coming closer?
Atharva stared up at Iram, his mouth dropping open as her fingers buried into his hair.
“Ten minutes,” he stated, quietly pleading for her to give him ten minutes of nothingness. He couldn’t do emotions tonight. Not the bad ones, not the good ones.
“Ten minutes,” she repeated, jamming her thumbs and rubbing tight circles on the warm skin of his temples.
His muscles became water. Without thought, his head fell forward and she caught it on her chest. Her fingers didn’t stop working.
They broadened their area of ministration, going from the back of his head to the back of his neck.
He felt her nose bury in his hair and he did the same into her chest, fisting his hands by his side lest he embrace her and pull her into him, inside him.
In the state he was in tonight, he wouldn’t put it past himself.
“Why are you angry at me, Atharva?”
He stilled. It wasn’t an accusatory question, it was a curious question.
“I know we understand each other, sometimes even before we understand ourselves. But this time, I am unable to. And if you don’t tell me, I don’t know how to figure it out. I am losing touch with myself now and then. I cannot lose touch with you.”
His eyes squeezed shut.
“Atharva?” She pushed back, her fingers still working on the skin behind his ears. Desperate brown eyes met his.
“You do not want this burden.”
“I want it.”
He shook his head, pulling back, letting her fingers slip from his shoulders and hating himself for it.
“You need to bond with Arth, heal, feel connected with life back here. We will talk about this some other time.”
Her fingers tugged him back before he slipped fully away.
His eyes widened at how his body snapped back to her — “There is no connecting with life here without connecting with you,” she held his face in her hands.
Her thumbs outlined the space under his eyes, massaging the bones of his cheeks.
“And what will I do with life here if I don’t have you? ”
His chest caved.
You had to think that before abandoning me.
“Go up and sleep, Iram. I am not in the mood.” This time he was brusque, cutting, finding no other way to send her away.
“I was working to come back,” she began to say instead. “I swear I was coming back to you, Atharva…”
“You shouldn’t have left in the first place!”