Chapter 29
“When NIA and NSA enter, your exit routes are sealed.” That warning echoed in Atharva’s head as he stepped out of his car and onto solid, firm ground of the Administrative Tribunal Complex.
It was an unassuming red sandstone block, situated on the Secretariat road, behind his own office.
It looked cool in the soft light of the post-dawn sky.
The May sun wasn’t bright yet, the sky wasn’t even completely lit, but the media circus behind him was making a party out of it.
“Kaul sir, were you there on the blast site in Nagar?”
“CM Kaul — resign! CM Kaul — RESIGN!”
“Are you hiding an act of war?”
“Tuhund chu yiman CM hund pad tchhivnav?”[45]
“The NIA is digging into your financial records. What do your KDP partners have to say about this?”
Atharva ignored the yells from behind him and powered through the compound, Altaf and his security behind him, Zorji walking slower beside him.
He had swapped his pheran for a black coat after a decade.
He nodded, his ancient eyes enough to power Atharva.
Nothing needed to be said between them. They had spent long hours, long days prepping for this.
The silence that had detonated louder than any blast had to be broken today, and broken strategically.
For the last two months, the Special Investigation Team constituted by the joint Parliamentary Committee along with the Supreme Court of India, had worked through its investigation.
Records, conversations, memos, staff, travel itineraries, witnesses.
Everything had been combed through. Atharva had sat back silently and let it happen.
He had been able to do so because Momina Aslam had also been gagged.
This SIT was sealed for now. Nothing related to the case could be made public until the SIT produced its final report — which would ideally take 18 months, if expedited.
Just get through these first six months quietly, we will see then, Yogesh Patel had told him.
Atharva wasn't naive enough to believe him, because then the National Investigative Agency had entered the scene.
The National Security Act was governing his case now, which meant the repercussions, if he was proven guilty, were far worse than just vacating office.
Atharva was seeing his frenemies slowly tighten the loop around his neck.
It wasn't as if Yogesh Patel had threatened him.
And there was a slim-to-none chance of him acting out any of these worst-case scenarios.
But the man was creating leashes. Atharva couldn't help but let them hold him because getting out of the biggest soup of his life was more important for now.
And getting out without any lingering trails.
Nothing could reach Iram. No breadcrumbs.
No open ends. No memory of any witness even slightly slipped.
The door of the makeshift SIT headquarters opened and closed behind him.
The noises cut off. He slowed down. Walked mindfully.
The soldier in him still believed in watching shadows and counting exits, registering smells of tea brewing and early morning stillness stirring to identify which rooms were filled and which were not.
His security and Zorji matched his footsteps.
“Mr. Kaul,” the secretary of the SIT Chair met him outside the room, hand outstretched. Atharva shook it. “Would you like some tea or coffee sent in?”
“No, thank you.”
“Your security will have to stand down from here on out, sir.”
“They were looking forward to the show,” Atharva smirked. But Altaf and his team were already stationing in the alley before the secretary had voiced his concern.
“This is my lawyer, Advocate Zoravar Rasool,” Atharva introduced.
“You did not mention bringing a lawyer…”
“Last-minute addition.”
They had deliberately kept this piece of information off the communication.
Things you prepped to ask a loner and things you asked him in his lawyer’s presence were two different plans.
Of course, it would not deter the hard questions, nor follow-up investigation summons.
But Atharva wanted to lead through the first session, create a record that would be diverted away from things he wanted to keep hidden.
That control would come to him only if he wrested it from the get-go.
The doors opened for him. He walked through.
It was a standard official room. He had been inside one while discharging from the SFF 15 years ago. That procedure had been long and gruesome, sped up only marginally due to internal factors, including his superior’s mess-up. Plus, Zorji’s counsel.
This hearing room was a little more spacious. There were more windows here, stained glass ones patent to Srinagar. Bottled water. A single long table.
Dust motes floated in the sunlight. At the head of the room sat five of his interrogators.
Retired Justice Nalini Thakur, one intelligence officer and an NIA representative to her left, a RAW representative named Ashfaq Khan to her right, along with Lieutenant General Sharma of the Gorkha Regiment.
He sat in his civilian clothes, as did the entire panel.
“Chief Minister Kaul,” Justice Thakur nodded, her glasses perched atop her nose with a silver chain running around her neck. It matched the silver in her hair.
“Justice Thakur,” Atharva nodded. “Thank you for doing this in Srinagar.”
“You wouldn’t come to Delhi.”
“I didn’t refuse to come to Delhi, I only asked for an extension since we have the summer session commencing here this week.”
“Take a seat. Who is this?” She asked, her eyes widening at the sight of Zorji. Atharva saw the spark of recognition, as well as awe. But she kept her features schooled.
“This is my lawyer, Advocate Zoravar Rasool.”
“Please take a seat, sir,” she droned, nodding, her eyelids remaining lowered a second longer in respect. Zorji might not have seen the inside of a courtroom in more than a decade, but his name and influence had outlived his practise.
Justice Thakur opened the hearing with a nod. “Chief Minister Kaul, we will speak on record. You may respond as you wish. This is a sealed chamber for now.”
Atharva nodded.
“If you have anything to say off the record, this is the time.”
“I have nothing to say off the record.”
He pulled the chair out from in front of his long table after Zorji was brought one.
Atharva lowered himself on the seat, pulling his mobile out and laying it on the table. He began to toggle the silent button when the screen lit up.
IRAM
Chin up, soldier osdhwepwiepwheifbefj
He held his smile back amidst this tense moment. Yathaarth had developed a new habit of banging on any phone screen that was unlocked in his vicinity. Atharva didn’t glance at the cameras mounted conspicuously in the corners. He clicked the phone to silent.
“You are on record now. Chief Minister Kaul,” Justice Thakur started. “October 27th, 2016. Were you invited to Nagar Jami Masjid by Chief Minister Dilshad Khan of Gilgit-Baltistan in Pakistan-occupied Kashmir?”
“Yes.”
The room was silent. But now, it turned eerie.
He had taken their follow-up questionnaire and made it redundant.
No cross-questioning about the leaked memo, no questions on the timing of his landing, check-in, meeting with Dilshad Khan.
Moreover, no questions about his sightseeing tour before they reached the mosque.
“Did you agree to visit the mosque?”
“At first, no.”
“That means later you did.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you agree? It wasn’t on the list of cleared places for you on the pre-approved itinerary.”
“I went there on a peacetime visit for cultural exchanges. When I was invited to visit their mosque, and Dilshad Khan was going to accompany me, I agreed. I carry discretionary powers with me even when I am on pre-approved itineraries abroad.”
“Was your security consulted about the visit?”
More like threatened.
“Yes.”
“Did you visit the Nagar Jami Masjid between 12:30–13:00 hours on that day, Chief Minister Kaul?”
Atharva could feel the collective held breaths of the room. Zorji, though, was relaxed.
“If I say I did not go, Zorji, then I am opening myself up for a lifetime of fear. Any time something crops up, I will go back to check if it isn’t this.”
“That’s the way to keep your office, Atharva. A CM who lied under oath, proactively worked to hide a non-cognizable offence on his self on a foreign, hostile land — that’s a CM saying goodbye to his office.”
“It can’t be the only way.”
“What do you want to do then?”
“I want to not have a mark on my back. Or Iram’s back. If ever this is resurrected, Iram’s journey to Nagar is potentially resurrected.”
“Yes,” Atharva answered.
If the room had been eerie earlier, now it was a graveyard.
“Chief Minister Kaul,” Lieutenant General Sharma leaned forward. “To clarify on record, you said ‘yes’ when asked if you visited the Nagar Jami Masjid between 12:30–13:00 hours specifically.”
Atharva felt grateful for this fraternity. Wherever you went, whatever you did, even if you were strangers, they always stood up for you.
“Yes, Lieutenant General,” Atharva agreed. “I said yes.”
His grim mouth tightened further under his moustache. Justice Thakur, though, looked half enraged but schooled her expression well.
“Were you on site when three low-intensity missiles were targeted around the structure, Chief Minister Kaul?”
“Yes, Justice Thakur.”
“Then is it safe to say that the target was you?”
“My client is here to answer questions to the best of his knowledge, not give wind to assumptions, Justice Thakur,” Zorji interrupted.
“My question is to the best of the CM’s knowledge, sir.”
“Your question is to get the CM’s thoughts on a matter that is, at best, conjecture.”
Justice Thakur wound down. But her questions turned more pointed.
“Where were you when the first missile went off?”
“A few feet away from it.”
“The second missile?”
“The same.”
“The third?”