Chapter 24 #3
I have taken an extended leave to take care of Elena and Atharva, but I will have to report back by February-end.
Elena wants me to take peace-time posting in Srinagar or discharge honourably.
I cannot do the latter, but I am trying to get the former.
She is alone in a new place with a new baby, I understand her concerns.
Mouji asked her to come to her house but Elena is used to independent living.
She will not be comfortable in a joint-family home.
These concerns do trouble me on and off, but that’s life.
We have to solve problems and move on. If we think too much about them, then they become mountains.
That’s all from my side. You tell me how is your research going? Write to me about that India-England match you had tickets for. Did you get to meet Sunil Gavaskar and take his autograph? Send it to me as your congratulations on Atharva’s birth if you have!
Yours truly,
Mahendra Singh Kaul
“Apt for today,” Atharva managed, smiling at the words he had read multiple times over the years since Professor Raina had AirDropped the photos to him.
“Did you name Yathaarth for this reason too?”
“Hmm?” He tore his eyes from the letter and glanced at her.
“Yathaarth. It means the truth, isn’t it?”
Atharva swallowed. “A loose translation is ‘the truth.’ But what it really means is — just as it was supposed to be. When I named him, I did not know if I would find you again. I wouldn’t rest until I did.
But if that took too long and he grew up to understand his circumstance, I wanted him to know that… ”
“He is exactly what he was supposed to be.” Iram completed for him.
“Yes.”
“He is,” Iram reaffirmed. “And so are we.”
He felt the melancholy of the moment lift. Atharva smiled — “Oh, I don’t doubt that. Now can I have more of that mango milk cake?”
She burst out laughing, pushing to her feet. “Only if you are planning to eat it.”
“What else will I do with it?” He asked innocently, folding the letters neatly and pushing them inside the envelope.
“You…” She stuttered.
“I what?”
Her nostrils flared — “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. What do you mean, myani zuv?”
She opened her mouth to retort when his phone rang.
Atharva picked it up — “Altaf.”
“Sir, Momina Aslam is at the gate. I got the notification from the guards.”
“Why is she here?” He got to his feet, walking to the windows overlooking the driveway and lawn. There were lights in the distance. Headlights.
“She says she came to wish you. Should we admit her?”
“Admit her. We don’t want tomorrow’s headlines to say that the CM locked the LoP outside his house.”
Atharva ended the call and pushed it inside his tracks pocket.
“Who is coming?” Iram came to his side.
“Momina Aslam.”
“What? Why? This late?”
“To wish me.”
“Is it safe?”
“Of course, myani zuv. Nothing like that happens inside houses with leaders involved. Most leaders of houses and LoPs are even friends.”
“I didn’t mean bloodshed. I meant… she is a lady here, in your house, at night.”
“You are also here.”
Her fleet of cars rounded his driveway and the burst of headlights softened. Atharva unlocked the door and stepped out onto the verandah. “Get a coat, Iram. It’s cold.”
She went in search of her coat and he stepped out as it is just as her car door was pulled open by her security. The woman always wore her dupatta over her head. Today, a shawl was wrapped over her head, a long coat covering her from top to bottom.
“Kaul sahab,” she stepped up to the verandah, a bunch of flowers thrust into her hands by her assistant. “I couldn't find you in Vidhan Sabha today. And sending these to your house seemed impersonal.”
“Thank you,” Atharva accepted her flowers, passing them onto Altaf.
He would not only run security but also check if she was leaving any clues inside them.
Atharva’s palms twitched. If she was here after a month, she was for a reason.
And it was to tighten the trap. He wanted to know it so that he could think ahead.
“Assalamualaikum, Madam,” Momina craned her neck, her eyes trained behind him.
“Waalaikum assalam,” Iram greeted, her tone switched to that of the perfect hostess. “Please come inside, don’t stand there in the cold.”
“I hope I am not disturbing you. Now that I see your lights are dimmed, I didn’t even think I was coming to the house of young parents.”
“It’s no problem, please come in.”
Atharva stepped aside and let her pass, closing the door behind him as Iram seated her on one of the sofas, all his gifts cleared.
“What would you like? Tea, coffee? Cake?”
“Allah, I would kill for some coffee. But I avoid caffeine in the evenings. Is this the birthday cake?”
“Yes. I made a mango cake. Would you like some?”
“Of course. Thank you for taking the trouble.”
“No trouble at all.”
Iram turned on her heel and left. And Atharva sat down on the armchair farthest from the long sofa that she occupied.
Iram was right. It didn’t sound good for a lady LoP to be inside a male CM’s house so late at night.
It was good that the cameras in the hall were all working, and also fitted with mics.
“Congratulations on your Kupwara operation.”
Atharva nodded.
“You are doing fine work in spinning new narratives.”
His gaze sharpened.
“But I came here to tell you not to panic. I understand, it was personal, whatever it was. And I don’t intend to ever speak it out loud.”
Atharva remained silent.
“Let’s be honest, we both know your wife returned from PoK to India. And we both know that can’t be proven. Unfortunately, a plane come to pick up nappies and formula milk isn’t a confession.”
“I see you talked yourself into a fantasy and then talked yourself out of it.”
“Denial is safe. But the longer it is overplayed, the less credible it becomes, Kaul sahab.”
“I don’t have anything to deny since you have spun nothing but stories so far.”
“Forget about me. I see you, I see your family. Backing off on the grounds of my conscience is not difficult for me. But some in my party don’t see it that way.”
Fuck. Who else knew?
“They think I have something on you and are suddenly confident about some wins,” Momina smiled. “They are uncovering your travel memos and notes and trying to poke holes. We don’t want them to reach somewhere unsavoury, do we?”
“First of all, my travel memos are classified. Second, even if they are not, I have nothing to hide. Poke away.”
She sighed. “Kaul sahab, don’t trust your staff so blindly. Your travel memo from 27th October has a glaring three-hour gap titled sightseeing.”
“Which was exactly what I was doing.”
“A CM’s travel notes are a bit more detailed, wouldn’t you agree? Places, time stamps, security note.”
“Are you here to tell me how my CMO should write my travel memos?”
“And there are no corresponding tickets or bookings in your wife’s name from Srinagar to Ahmedabad on that day or the day before, as was communicated officially,” she went on, unperturbed.
“Momina Madam, how my wife travels, or what mode she takes, is not up for public scrutiny.”
“You mean she took the road?” Her eyebrows rose, mocking.
“To ease both of our lives for the foreseeable future, consider my request. Let us bury this together. It’s not much.
Amrohi Associates needs help with this new insurgency case you have opened against them.
Why would the army think they are linked to militants? Help them out, Kaul sahab.”
“Or your funding is in danger?”
“Or your wife is in danger.” Momina rose to her feet. “Is it worth it? To spend days without peace of mind? To keep spinning narratives in hopes of becoming the messiah they thought you were back in the day?”
She reached for her bag and set the handle over her wrist. Iram walked out with a tray of cake slices in hand and Momina Aslam’s serene smile widened some more — “I am so sorry I have to leave. I will come back another time to eat your cake, Madam.”
Atharva stood up, unmoved as she nodded at him, pushed her hand up in salam and walked out of his house.