Chapter 23 #2
“Listen, listen. Let me rewrite them. I am already done with two. Give me this week and I will send you the lot. Read it, then tell me.”
“TIME. TIME!”
“Once we are on the same page for Taj, I will take 30 days to finish the book.”
“30 days?”
“Flat.”
Sherry’s eyes went to her son — “Do you think your mom is L.Y.I.N.G?”
“No, she is very, very S. U. R. E,” Iram stood her son up between her legs and he waved with both his hands, thinking he was bidding goodbye to his Baba because this was his exact position whenever Atharva left for work.
She had learnt this from Sarah, to stand him up between her legs on the floor and help him understand balance even if he was just starting to crawl.
Sherry sighed. “As if I can tell you anything else. You had to go and marry the Chief Minister of Jammu & Kashmir.”
“Then 60 days.”
“No! Iram, enough. Not a day beyond 30 or I am coming there and snatching your laptop and running away with it.”
She laughed — “You can threaten the CM’s wife just fine. Ok, I’ll email you these three chapters tomorrow.”
Sherry huffed. And a quick goodbye later, her video box disappeared.
“You think we can finish the third chapter today?” Iram turned Yathaarth and nuzzled his nose. He giggled, kicking his legs.
“Let’s try to put you to your nap for that to happen!”
————————————————————
“Where are you running off to?” Qureshi caught his shoulder after a long session in the Vidhan Sabha. “Come and have tea in my office.”
Atharva glanced at Captain Husain standing amid his security entourage. The man’s face was as blank as ever, but his neck veered to the right. The operation was underway.
“Later. I need to be back at the Secretariat.”
“What is happening?” Qureshi stopped, pushing his arms behind his back. “You didn’t sit with Samar and me for the municipal elections ticket distribution either yesterday. Is there a mission I don’t know about?”
Atharva blinked. And Qureshi understood.
“Right. Ok. I’ll see you then.”
“Is there something urgent?”
“It can wait. Go.”
Atharva turned and thundered down the steps and right into the open car door.
“Status?” He asked.
“8 out of 12 neutralised,” Captain Husain relayed, slipping in beside him as Altaf pushed into the passenger seat.
“Let us reach closer and then flag off.”
“Yes, sir.”
Atharva sat back and waited, quiet, listening to the updates coming to Captain Husain and then loop out as he passed on new orders.
The convoy sped down the cleared roads of Jammu City, covering the ten-minute distance between the Vidhan Sabha and the Secretariat in record time.
He got down outside his office building and strode in, Zafarji standing up as he stormed past.
“Call Amaal.”
“The anti-terror raid in Kupwara is being telecast live, sir,” Zafarji informed, a rare smirk on his face.
Atharva pushed open his office door — “Please send Amaal, Zafarji.”
The door closed behind Captain Husain and Atharva rounded his desk, taking a seat and reaching for his office line. He dialled Major Banot.
“Sir,” he picked up on the first ring.
“I saw it on TV.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Nothing can be done now. Are they all neutralised?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Congratulations, Major.”
“Thank you, sir.”
A knock sounded on his door.
“Come in.”
Amaal pushed the door open and strode in. “It’s live, sir.”
“I just spoke to Major Banot,” he pushed back in his chair. “Good job, guys.”
“If that is all, sir, I’ll get in touch with the reconnaissance team for the hills around Bangus.”
“Go ahead, Captain.”
Captain Husain nodded at Amaal and left the room. The door fell shut behind him.
“Sit, Amaal.”
“Phew,” she collapsed on one of the chairs. “What’s with you and these adrenaline missions?”
He smirked, feeling a little better — “Old habits.”
“I had the national news pick it up. Debate topics are ready. The narrative is ready to spin back in your favour where the army is concerned.”
“Good. Because I have calls with three heads of military units today and I want them all to feel the win.”
“Here…” she reached for the remote on his desk and switched on the TV.
It was already tuned to a local news channel and as predicted, it was streaming the place of encounter live — all dense jungles of Kupwara, men in green and khaki, running ops together, holding back the press barrage, the neutralised hut in the distance.
“…and it’s a bold move, breaking protocol.
The Chief Minister personally green lit this joint strike, pushing for rare coordination between the Army, J&K Police, and air recon — a move that’s already sending ripples through both political and military circles.
This launch pad is alleged to have been used for the bomb blast near St. Joseph’s Convent in Srinagar this July to protest the killing of Usama Aziz.
CM Kaul has avenged the death of children that… ”
Amaal sat back, turning her eyes from the TV to him — “You are no longer the man who crossed into enemy territory. You are the man who took the fight to the enemy.”
Atharva kept watching. “If we find more, I will kill more,” he said. “Bangus may have another hideout and now they are trapped.”
“You can kill that bird with your stone but mine is already dead,” Amaal got to her feet.
Her giddy mood dropped as she gazed at him — “Don’t worry.
I am on top of this. Neither will Momina Aslam blurt about you and Iram in PoK, nor will people believe her.
The discrediting has started already. Slowly we will build a firewall strong enough to insulate you both from any threats. ”
“And the alibis for Iram?”
“Ready. Three in Ahmedabad, five here in Srinagar. None related to you or your circle. Iram was in India when you went to PoK. Momina Aslam can go around shouting and we will shout back harder.”
He nodded. “Could you dig out what exactly she knows?”
“Not yet. There is a possibility she knows that Iram flew from Gilgit to Kargil on that plane but there is no way she can prove it. Now, we need to make sure that she cannot prove that Iram was in Gilgit. What did your OTP say?”
“All tracks were wiped off.”
“Then wait and watch.”
“Yeah,” he scoffed, letting his head hit the back of his chair. Momina Aslam had come to his son’s Annaparashan, dropped the bomb, and then gone radio silent. Her behaviour in Vidhan Sabha? Just as usual — fighting inside, polite outside. She had given zero clues about anything else.
“Atharva. Don’t worry. Keep your mind busy in helping me build your insulation. Tomorrow you are going to the encounter site, with all the media fanfare.”
“Yeah.”
“And then all the way to Zachaldara to celebrate your birthday at the military base.”
“Got it.”
“Be accessible to the media.”
“Why don’t you come with me?”
“Take my sidekick.”
“You have become lazy in public office.”
“Excuse me! I have done nothing but put out fires three times a day for you since I joined office. Take your lazy and shove it up your…”
Atharva threw his head back and laughed, feeling a little lighter. She scowled.
“What did Samar do today to make you like this?”
“Don’t ask,” she pointed an accusing finger at him. “And do not take his name in front of me.”
He smiled, seeing a woman scorned and keeping his nose out of whatever Samar had done to make that happen. The man, if he was serious about making a life with Amaal, would learn soon enough that a woman scorned was ok, but a wife scorned was the hottest hell burning under and over your life.
————————————————————
Atharva ran a palm down his wife’s bare thigh, caressing its smooth, milky texture ripe with fine puckered stretch marks. They pebbled under his touch. The winter of Jammu wasn’t as harsh as Kashmir’s, and yet her skin paled every time. Shivered. Dried.
He reached down and pressed a kiss to the goosebumps, trailing his knuckles up her half-languid body lying spooned in his arms, turned towards the window.
“You aren’t sleepy?” She caught his hand and brought it around herself, tracing circles on his palm.
“I was summoned for an interrogation tonight,” he pushed his leg between hers, the insides of her thighs wet from their activities a few minutes ago. “Iram, we need to start using protection again, even for your safe days.”
“Hmm. I had spotting this month but my period is coming back. I can feel it.”
“Exactly,” he pressed his lips to the edge of her shoulder. “Iram?”
“Mmm?”
“What do you think about another baby?”
Her breathing slowed.
“Maybe not a good time to talk about it,” he began to pull away. She caught his hand and continued to run circles — “No, no, I was thinking.”
“We don’t have to discuss it right now. Or ever, if you don’t want to.”
“I want to.”
He stilled.
“Atharva?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I say something without making you sad?”
“Hmm.”
“I wish Hayat would come back.”
I wish Hayat had not gone away in the first place.
“I made you sad.”
“No… yes. I mean, the thought of her has become easier to bear with time. But it is still more painful that she went, than happy that she came for even that short a while.”
“It will get better with more time, Atharva.”
“It will, myani zuv.”
“Then what I mean to tell you is that… whoever this new baby is, we will have it. In a few years, we will be ready for it.”
“Three years?”
She thought for a moment. Then nodded.
“You’ll be 41 by then.”
“But I’ll look 31.”
She snorted. And he kissed the back of her head.
“I will be beyond the age most men have kids. But our lives started late, myani zuv. And I want to give Arth time with us. I want to give you time to thrive again. You are thriving, don’t get me wrong.
But… for now this feels complete. The three of us.
There is space for a fourth but I know in my heart that it’s not now. What do you think?”
“I think,” she pushed her fingers through his. “That you are right, Janab.”
“How painful was it to admit that?”
An elbow went straight into his stomach. He winced, laughing.