Chapter 27
In real-time, the window of lag between Momina Aslam’s first threat and this open firing had been months — three to be precise. But as Atharva saw the report play out on live television now, he felt those three months shorter than that millisecond.
“Momina Aslam is sitting for a press conference,” Amaal burst through his office door, Zorji and Fahad already there. Atharva stood quiet, eyes on the screen.
“She is going to present our leaked memo,” Amaal added before Momina Aslam’s face filled the screen. She pulled her flimsy duppatta over her head and leaned into the mics lined on the table.
“Leak her Amol Developers records!” Fahad shot out.
“Shhh,” Amaal cut him off. “It doesn’t work like that. Not immediately, at least.”
“Dear members of the Press, thank you for gathering here tonight,” Momina Aslam addressed, prim, proper, articulate.
“I have come here to present some facts and findings to our state through you. Our fight against the dictatorial regime of the KDP government under Atharva Singh Kaul has been tireless and unwavering. CM Kaul has many sins to his name, anti-nationalism isn’t one of them.
Or so I thought, until I stumbled upon these. ”
She held up a paper — “A copy will be circulated among you all. This is an internal memo from the CMO, detailing the CM’s itinerary on the day he landed in Gilgit in Pakistan-occupied Kashmir.
It reads — Touchdown at 7:09 hours, Arriving at the Silk Route Hotels & Hospitality at 8:24 hours.
There is a detailed breakdown of the CM’s meeting with the CM of Gilgit-Baltistan, breakfast, and then a blank.
A three-hour blank from 11:40 hours to 14:45 hours when a call with the Additional Principal Secretary in India is slotted.
This gap is very conveniently titled ‘Sightseeing.' Ironically, the PoK government has today admitted a leak of their memo, a similar note made on the occasion of the Indian CM’s arrival in Nagar. The memo reads — ‘A brief, symbolic stop at Nagar Jami Masjid has been extended to the Honourable CM of Jammu and India-occupied Kashmir. Time window proposed: 12:30–13:00. This gesture, if accepted, will be seen as a mark of goodwill across regional communities.’”
Momina Aslam set the memos down and reached for another piece of paper under her table. A photograph.
“This is the place our CM was invited to and this is what happened at that place at that exact time. So my question is — did the CM go? If not, then why wasn’t it mentioned in his memo?
If he went,” Momina Aslam leaned into the mic.
“And I have a hunch he did — who is he protecting, and why? Allegedly, an attempt was made on a sitting Indian Chief Minister’s life in a foreign country.
My question to our Prime Minister is — why don’t you know it and will India avenge it?
And lastly — will India and Jammu-Kashmir hold CM Kaul accountable for these answers? ”
“She was not coming for Iram,” Amaal murmured. Atharva felt her gaze on the side of his face. “She was coming for you.”
“What does our new memo say?” Fahad asked.
“A detailed breakdown of sightseeing,” Zafarji answered. “Palace visit, riverbed, forts, museum and silk route. The twenty minutes of Jami Masjid have been covered in travel.”
“Then we must oust that…”
“Now that memo is of no use,” Zafarji intoned what Atharva had surmised the moment the Pakistani memo had leaked.
“But why? It’s not like our people will trust them over us.”
“It’s not about who the people trust anymore,” Atharva finally voiced out.
He tore his gaze from the television and looked at Fahad, the man who had come with him to this minefield.
“Momina Aslam has been quietly pulling out confirmations out of me through our conversations. She made me change my travel memo to a detailed list of sightseeing. I can’t deny I was out that day.
And it hits too close to home to what the PoK memo says.
I was trying to protect Iram’s travel plans and she pulled out my travel plans.
I don’t know if those conversations were recorded.
But we always expect the worst case from her. ”
“So then what? We confess that an attempt was made on your life there? Bhai, this is not even a press trial then. This is a real trial. Amaal, fucking say something!”
Amaal remained silent. She was usually the sanest and the loudest voice in a room. Now, she was staring into thin air, piecing a puzzle.
“If you say you did not visit the mosque,” she finally began to lay it out.
“You open yourself to perjury, especially if she starts bringing evidence or witnesses. She is clearly in touch with contacts in Pakistan. If you say you visited the mosque and hid this attack, you open yourself to unconstitutional conduct and anti-national allegations, leave aside the recurrent question — why you kept quiet.”
Atharva knew this, and was two steps ahead.
“I am going to first make sure that PoK machinery is tightened and maintains complete silence on this.”
“How?” Amaal countered. “Dilshad Khan wanted to kill you and go to war with India to get Kashmir.”
“Mir Faiz will make it happen. If not for me, then for Iram.”
“You yourself said that boy is a weak puppet.”
“Not so weak. He cleared the airspace for an hour. He can do this too.”
Amaal stared blankly at him — “Let’s assume you manage to do that. What next?”
“I will get the Centre to impose an independent inquiry on me.”
“Fuck that!” Fahad objected. “Are you serious?!! Bhai? Amaal, is he serious? Zafarji, please tell me he is not serious!”
Atharva met Zafarji’s ancient knowing eyes.
“It’s a good enough solution,” Zafarji said quietly.
“What the fuck? Amaal! Why are you silent?”
“SIT?” Amaal asked him. Atharva nodded.
“A Special Investigation Team? What’s next? Suspension or President’s rule?” Fahad roared. “There has to be another way. Hang on. Let us think…”
“Take tonight to think,” Atharva consoled him. “It’s late. Go home.”
Fahad stared at him like he was a ghost.
“It’s a crisis on your personal and professional character and you want us to take the night, Bhai?”
“Scampering is not going to do us any good, Fahad. Go. If not home then go to your office and think. Get your teams together.”
“I think you should talk to Zorji first, Atharva,” Amaal voiced.
“That is what I will do first thing we break here.”
“Hmm… this SIT, you will be bringing it upon you. Are you sure it won’t backfire?”
“It will be the devil we can reasonably control, as opposed to a media trial which is a free beast. The moment this issue goes to SIT, everybody will have to shut up in public. Momina Aslam, even if she has more to say, will not be able to make any public statement. She will have to come to the committee with her allegations and evidences. A closed committee.”
“And what about the investigation and trial?”
“We will try our best to pull it to the end of public memory. The next big thing will come and this will be buried.”
Amaal’s nostrils flared. “This sounds good on paper but you and I both know that there are many moving parts in real life. Are you sure this SIT will not come to bite you in the back?”
“That is why, take the night. I will speak to Zorji and think this through.”
Amaal nodded. “Fahad, come with me.”
“Bhai, there will be another way,” he pressed. “We will find another way.”
Atharva smiled at him.
The two of them exited his office and he was left alone to stare at Zafarji. In silence.
“I did not want your hands to get dirtied,” Atharva said.
“And I told you — if your hands are dirtied, mine are too. Do you want me to patch you up with Zorji?”
“Yes, please. Secure line. If anybody from Janta Party’s circle calls — tell them I will speak to Ali first. If anybody from KDP calls except Adil, Samar and Qureshi — ask them to wait for my briefing tomorrow.
I will have to brief the core team, then the executive committee, and then the party before I do anything. ”
“Yes, sir.”
“Give me two minutes before you patch Zorji.”
“Yes, sir.”
Zafarji stepped out of his office to the quiet space outside, shutting the door with a loud, echoing click behind him.
Atharva stared at the darkwood door for five seconds.
His heart was thudding fast. The storm was too close.
But now at least he knew it was heading for him and not his family.
He channeled his inner soldier. A visible enemy, a battlefield, lights on the horizon that you knew were danger.
Finally he had a target. He drew courage from that fact and silenced the tiny surge of fear inside him.
Before talking to anybody else, he strode to his mobile and dialled Iram’s number. Atharva glanced at the clock. 1.35 am.
“Atharva.” She answered on the third ring.
“You saw?”
“Yes.”
He smiled, even in this gloom. His wife was a proper CM’s wife, knowing how to talk on unsecured lines.
“I just called to say I am spending the night here. You go to sleep.”
It’s starting but I will take care of it.
“Hmm. Arth cried a lot.”
I am scared.
“Must be the change of season. Once he gets used to it, he’ll sleep better.”
We will get through this.
“I’m sorry I am monopolising your time, go now.”
I am sorry I did this. Go and save yourself.
“It’s alright, zuv. I’ll see you.”
You are zuvzuv. Our lives two times over. It was more than worth it.