Chapter 33
Musafir jaayega kahan
Wahan kaun hai tera?
Atharva saw the tricolour lowered from the top of his house.
On a warm June morning, with the sun shining bright, the house of his grandfather packing up around him, he stood beneath it as his guards pulled the string of the pole slowly.
Inch by inch, gliding just as majestically as it had been hoisted, the flag was brought down.
Atharva did not take his eyes off it as two of his guards stood on opposite sides, the flag stretched between them, folded lengthwise.
First the orange, then the green. And then the white, folded underneath the navy Ashok Chakra.
The guard held it out on his arms and began to walk towards the storage.
“Give it to me.”
Atharva heard his command echo in the silence.
“Government property is supposed to be stored until further notice, sir,” Zafarji informed him.
“This is not government property. This is my father’s flag.”
The guard took an about turn and marched towards him.
Atharva held his arms out. The wind of Kashmir swayed.
It filled his chest. He ought to feel something.
Anything. Rage, loss, sorrow. Nothing. He had cycled through them all in the last three days.
Now, at the hour of departure, he was left with nothing.
The silky material of his father’s flag touched his forearms. His palms cupped to hold it still. His fingers shook. Not feeling anything, his body shook.
“Where is Iram?” He asked out loud, hoping to hold his body still with that firm bellow.
“She is upstairs, packing,” Shiva answered, scuttling down from the house behind him, one metallic trunk in hand. He went straight for his Land Rover.
“Where are you going?”
“To put my bag.”
“Shiva,” Atharva called him. He stopped, face turned over his shoulder.
“I have spoken to Samar. You will go back to work for the Boulevard Road headquarters. Same salary, same perks…”
“But I am coming with you.”
“We won’t need you there.”
“Won’t you eat food?”
Atharva clicked his tongue, at a loss. In that split second, Shiva shot like a bullet to the boot of the Land Rover and was pulling it open.
“Not there, the Innova behind. That’s for luggage,” Atharva called out, unable to fight this one out. He had been losing so many battles lately. This one seemed pointless. The driver of his luggage Innova got out, opening the car’s rear that had been completely flattened to pack up their household.
Noora crept up from some bush behind the car and ran up and into the driver’s seat. The driver rounded the car but he shut the door and locked it from inside.
“Noora, get out,” Atharva ordered.
“I’m driving.”
“You are not coming.”
“I am taking a transfer.”
Atharva’s mouth fell closed. Through the glass of the windshield he saw it — that rare, solemn side of the man-child. His hands were on the steering wheel, determined.
“Sir,” Altaf walked up to him and clicked his heels. He held out a bunch of keys — “Everything has been cleaned and locked. Water lines have been shut and I will shut off the mains once you leave.”
“Thank you, Altaf.”
“Are you sure you do not want security, sir?”
“I am sure. Thank you.”
“You can put in a request to get yourself covered, considering the threats coming your way.”
“They are harmless. I know the real ones from the fabricated ones. Don’t you agree?”
Altaf nodded, begrudgingly. Atharva didn’t have anything else to say to him.
“Can you have this laid safely in my car?” He handed the flag into Altaf’s arms and accepted the keys. “I will get Iram.”
————————————————————
“Iram?” He called out, taking the steps two at a time. “Iram! Myani zuv?”
“Bababaabaaa…” he followed the babbles of Yathaarth into his grandfather’s gramophone room.
Iram was on the floor, manically packing the records into a cardboard box.
The other two boxes were already filled, overflowing with her books.
Yathaarth was inside an empty box, banging happily on its flaps.
“Thava! Thava!” He began to call out to Iram. Atharva reached down and scooped him up. “Bababaaa!” His mouth banged into Atharva’s shoulder. He kissed his hair.
“Iram, we are already late. We have sixteen hours of drive ahead…”
“Just five minutes. I forgot to pack this last night! How did I forget?!”
“It’s alright. Anyway, there is no space left in the car.”
Her horror-stricken face whirled up to his. It had been nothing but panicked these last three days as she had worked on packing up their home.
“We can’t leave these behind. That gramophone also needs to come with us…”
He glanced at the ancient piece of heritage. His grandfather’s most prized possession. His own prized possession. Atharva shook his head — “It’s alright. Pack it and leave it here.”
“But…”
“We will come back to it soon anyway,” he said, hoping it was true. “Tape up your books and I’ll send Shiva to carry them. Two can be stuffed in the Land Rover. Are you ready?”
“Yes. I need to get Arth’s bag…”
“Get it. I’ll take him.”
Atharva turned with his son in his arms and strode down the corridor. He walked down the stairs, one hand on Yathaarth, the other running down the smooth, polished banister. It gleamed in the early morning light.
“Shiva!” He called out.
“Ji, Janab.”
“Go and bring Iram’s boxes.”
Atharva continued down the hall, the furniture being covered with old bedsheets.
He looked away from the sight, walking towards his office.
He pushed the door open and went around the space, switching off lights and jamming away any stray chargers.
He went to his wall of windows and stared out at the sight that was his estate.
On one side was his backyard, sloping up into the thickets.
On the other were his gardens, now alive for one last time as guards, officers, packers moved around.
“Baba tee…” Yathaarth squeaked.
“Yes,” Atharva nodded distractedly.
“Teeeteee!” He pushed this face into the glass. Atharva followed his happy banging on the window and saw the unfinished treehouse. His unfinished treehouse. He had been showing it to him at different stages of its construction.
He wanted to feel the weight of this sorrow. Yathaarth was smiling at the half-finished treehouse, finally having learnt to speak its name. Atharva stepped back. His son’s hand fell away from the glass.
Atharva pushed a button on the blinds’ remote.
They began to whirr. Second by second, they came down, rolling and dunking the room in diffused light.
He turned. Surveyed his office one last time.
He reached inside his drawer, scooped out the keys and strode out.
Without thinking too much about it, he shut the door and locked it, slipping the keys inside his pocket that were already heavy with so many bunches.
“Atharva?” Iram was at the end of the alley.
“Coming.”
“I am ready.”
He strode down and found her standing, in her mango-coloured salwar kameez, smiling at him. One shoulder had Yathaarth’s travel bag, the other had her own purse. She smiled even bigger at him — “Let’s go.”
“Let’s go.”
He began to take her load off when his fingers froze. The spot he had surveyed only a while ago passed through his eyes. His estate. His backyard. Mama.
“What happened?”
“Can you take him and go sit in the car?”
Iram frowned but held her arms out. He began to transfer their son but he rebelled, sticking to his shoulder. “Baba! Babaa!”
“I am not going anywhere without you.” Atharva consoled him. Lately, his son had begun to identify that they were going out and would cling to him until he was safely buckled inside the car.
“Come here, Dilbaro,” Iram plucked his protesting body. He cried his tearless cries. Atharva swallowed.
“Go.”
“Two minutes.”
He turned his back on them and strode away.
“Baba is taking you out, shhh, shhh…” he heard Iram console Yathaarth and continued to stride, pushing the back door open. He took quick steps, his path leading up, straight to the edge of his property. To Mama’s tombstone.
Atharva stopped in front of the stone. He knew he had to come here. His legs had carried him this far without any thought but to be here. Now that he was here, he didn’t know what to do. He wasn't one to talk to graves. Never had been able to.
Atharva bent on his haunches. Koels were singing.
A cicada was whistling. The wind was whirling wet.
He found his hand reaching out and laying on the cool stone.
A second, two, and he stood to his feet.
He tore his eyes from his mother’s grave, turned and began to stride away.
He did not look back, his eyes finding Iram and Yathaarth waiting for him at the back door.
Yathaarth was now howling, real tears flowing down his crinkled eyes.
“Come here,” he held his arms out and his son fell into them. Atharva cradled him close, meeting Iram’s eyes. They were watery too. But she smiled.
“We will come back soon,” she said.
“We will.”
————————————————————
They locked all the last doors of the house and stepped out into their driveway. Two cars and countless staff members stood. The Innova was groaning with the weight of their luggage, Noora at its helm, idling the engine.
Atharva nodded at the private security lined up on one side, Shiva’s minions on the other. Zain clicked his heels together. “Sir.”
Atharva handed Yathaarth over to Iram and reached inside his pocket for the envelope of salary cheques. They were leaving mid-contract, but he had covered a three-month severance package, plus some more. He handed it to Zain.
“Two of your staff are enough to guard now. Safiya Begum will have spare keys for the house. She can come and go at any time.”
“Yes, sir.”
"Thank you for everything.”
Zain nodded, his face turning to Iram and softening at Yathaarth. “Ma’am.”
“Thank you, Zain.”
“Sir.” Altaf strode to him. “The mains are now off.”
Atharva nodded.
“Madam,” Altaf tipped his chin to Iram.
“We will see you again, Altaf,” she smiled. Atharva had never felt more pessimistic. But she was making up for it, holding Yathaarth up for Altaf’s open palm. Their son smacked Altaf’s palm and laughed.
Atharva steeled himself further and strode down the steps, walking to the open door of his Land Rover.
It had been years since he had driven it without a whole convoy around him.
It had been years since he had driven it on an open road, not behind half a dozen of a fleet.
He opened the rear door and settled Yathaarth’s car seat tightly.
Shiva was settling himself in from the other side.
“Here,” Iram called from behind him and Atharva took their son, pushing him into the car seat and buckling him in. He was grinning his gummy grin, drooling from between wide, happy lips, eyes sparkling. Atharva wiped his mouth and smiled back. Then gently clicked the door shut.
“Do we have everything?” Iram panicked again, patting her purse.
“We have everything,” he affirmed. “Come.” Atharva opened his hand. Without a single second’s delay, she lay her hand in his and let him guide her the rest of the steps down.
As she rounded the car to get into the passenger seat, he got behind the wheel. Atharva did not glance at his house again. He did not try to count if he had forgotten anything. He did not let this be goodbye.
He push-started the engine, clicked his seatbelt, turned the wheel and drove down the estate road.
The sky opened and under a bright, shining sun, rain began to drizzle on his windshield. It didn’t need the wiper yet. The bend of the estate rose ahead. And even when this wasn’t goodbye for him, his eyes went to the sideview. Once.
————————————————————
The slope spiralling down the hill of his house took him away from the closed gates, the rain turning heavier.
Atharva toggled the wipers on, keeping the car slow, waiting for Noora to get his bearings behind him.
When he was sure the Innova was stuck to his rear, Atharva glanced ahead and accelerated.
Then screeched to a halt as a blur came in front of his car.
Iram screamed, throwing her arm back to hold Yathaarth.
Atharva pulled the handbrake. “Is he ok?”
“Yes, laughing…”
He peered ahead at the blur that was now straightening to his full height, backpack and a suitcase loaded on his person, head bent under the rain.
“Daniyal,” Atharva growled.
He ran around and to his window. Atharva pushed the button.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?”
“Sorry, Atharva Bhai. Can you… give me a lift to my Nani’s house?”
Atharva stilled. He peered into the boy’s eyes, eyelids tittering under the drizzle.
Daniyal Qureshi had the time of his life in his Nani’s house but he wouldn’t be caught dead being there again.
In his own words, all the ‘action’ for him was here.
Atharva stared at him, hard. He squirmed, scratching his shaggy jaw, then pulling nervously on his nose.
“What did you do?” Atharva asked, making it easy for him.
His mouth turned down — “I left the house.”
“Daniyal!” Iram leaned forward. “Does your mother know?” She began to reach for her mobile.
“She knows, and she is helpless like always. I am nineteen. My boards are over. I don’t want to go to college here.”
“You can’t just leave like that! Let me call Sarah…” she began to swipe her phone up.
“No, Bhabhi…” “It’s ok,” Atharva stopped her. To Daniyal, he gave a curt nod to the back of the car. Eager and scared that the invitation would be rescinded, Daniyal ran around the car, opened the dickey, stuffed his bags and came to the rear door.
“Install Arth’s seat to the centre,” Atharva directed. Then kept an eye on the rearview as Daniyal slowly unbuckled the seat, playing with Yathaarth, and set it on the central cushion between him and Shiva. Iram checked the fastenings.
“All set, Bhai.”
“Atharva,” Iram warned him with her eyes. This is madness.
He blinked reassuringly. She didn’t look convinced but she sat back, clipping her seatbelt on.
Atharva depressed the handbrake, put the car in gear and inched forward slowly. Before tipping his window closed, he pushed his hand out and held his palm up. Qureshi’s old Tavera parked in the shadows blinked twice with flashlights.