Chapter 38
It is only winners that always win, not heroes, child. Yamma had told this to her once, or maybe more than once. She couldn’t remember the exact events or occasions. But she remembered those words. Like she remembered her father’s words.
Iram smiled to herself. Only a year ago, she hadn’t been able to call Abba her father.
Even to herself. How time turned. How it tore open wounds.
And how it sutured them back too. She stepped inside their dim bedroom and tiptoed towards the bed.
After Samar and Amaal had left, Atharva had taken Yathaarth to bathe him and do his bedtime.
She checked — Junior Janab was sound asleep in his cot.
Senior Janab… her ears perked up at the click of the bathroom door.
“Daniyal went to sleep?” Atharva asked, rubbing his towel over his head.
“Yes. He got bored after everybody left.
Noora is also not here.”
“Life has been merciful this past week,” he grunted, opening the balcony and hanging his towel out to dry.
“It will be dew all over by 4 in the morning. How will your towel dry?”
“It will remain wet inside too.” Atharva shut it, pushing the sleeves of his sweatshirt to his elbows as he went around the room in the dim light, plugging on the charger of his iPad, grabbing the extra thick duvet that they stored in a spare trunk to keep their bed smooth all day, bending down to check the heater.
“Noora is coming back on Wednesday, by the way.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Iram grinned — “You have said his name more times than all of us put together. Admit it, you miss him.”
“I wish he has more bank work. And stays in Srinagar forever.”
She padded to him and caught his shoulders just as he rose to his feet, “Do you have some time to spare, Janab?”
Atharva turned, brows pinched together.
“There is something I want to show you.”
“What?”
“You will have to come with me.”
“Arth is asleep.”
“We will take his baby monitor.”
A yawn tore through his mouth and he held it back bravely.
“What is it, Iram?”
She did not want to reveal it. She wanted to show him. How he did not know yet was beyond her. Once upon a time, he had always kept apprised of such events.
“Iram?”
“There’s a meteor shower tonight.”
Grey eyes blinked, silent. Hers widened — “Won’t you say something?”
His lids fell, squeezing tight. “I am really sleepy.”
“We don’t have to go anywhere. I checked, it will be visible from the observatory. Not very clearly but we will switch off all the lights and it will be good enough. I have also…”
“I have been reading a lot today. I cannot keep my eyes open. You go up, I will be here with Arth.”
Iram pushed a smile to her lips, holding it up with immense difficulty for him as he crossed her to reach his side of the bed.
She saw him settle down, push his feet under the duvet and reach for his pillow.
And Iram turned around. She left the room silently.
Heartbreak, hurt, tears… those were for rookies.
She had come too far in life and in marriage to take this personally.
But she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that this felt like a defeat.
Every plan, every event, every offer that Atharva refused had been feeling like that. But she powered through.
Iram went down to the silent, dark hall, crossed it to the spiral staircase and began to ascend.
She had left the lights on when she had come down after setting things up.
She didn’t want to go up alone. She did not want to see stars alone.
She did not want to listen to his grandfather playlist alone.
But if she didn’t, he would lie beside her in guilt all night.
And Iram did not want Atharva to bear more than he already was carrying on his shoulders.
She reached the top and the magnificence of the dark sky covering the ceiling took her breath away.
Yathaarth’s mattress had been rolled out in the middle of the observatory, cushions she had brought up from the sofa downstairs had been thrown around it.
A warm woollen shawl, two mugs, a thermos of coffee.
Dark greens of pines and deodars ensconced the room from all sides.
It was like floating on top of a jungle, with the stars so close.
She wished Atharva could come and see this.
Come and enjoy things that used to light up his eyes once.
She trudged to the gramophone. The record was already set. Iram hesitated. Then picked up the stylus and set it on the edge of the vinyl.
Haaye, isharon isharon mein dil lene wale… bata yeh hunar tune seekha kahan se
Iram lowered herself onto the mattress, hugging her knees to her chest. The song of their night, the song of their most honest conversation, the song of that first dance which had never happened.
Now tears came to her eyes. She looked up at the sky.
The stars were still. No shower yet. And tears turned thicker in the rims of her eyes.
The life, the ups, the highs, the grand story that they had left behind in Srinagar.
Iram had not allowed herself to feel homesick in all these months.
She had to make this Atharva’s home. But the sound of this song rattled something kept deeply locked inside her.
It was sweet, that she had gotten the years she had gotten in Srinagar.
After that exile of 12 years, she had gotten Atharva, she had gotten masale tchot, she had gotten Dal and Jhelum, she had gotten Jamia and the pigeons.
The stained glass windows and the lotuses.
She was today grateful for those years. But she was also bitter about how cruelly fate had snatched it all away.
And how there was no way back in sight now.
Not only for her but for all of them. Her one mindless mistake, one thoughtless step, whatever condition it was taken in, had changed the trajectory of Atharva’s hard-won life.
Warmth engulfed her back. She startled as a coat landed on her shoulders.
“This room does not have a heater.”
Iram’s eyes squeezed shut. A soft laugh escaped her mouth as her head fell forward. Of course, her personal heater would come. She pushed her head back up, and Atharva was sitting beside her, eyes on her. His thumb rolled under her eye, catching the tear that was contained inside her eye.
“I didn’t think my rejecting your date proposal would make you cry.”
Her mouth dropped open. Iram grabbed a cushion and threw it at his face. He caught it and threw it away. She pushed at his chest. It did not budge. But she enjoyed the huff of a chuckle. His head dropped back until his eyes were on the sky — “Where is the meteor shower?”
“Hasn’t started yet.”
His arm circled her upturned knees, thumb stroking back and forth as the song began to wind to its finale. His eyes went smaller and smaller, working doubly hard to remain open.
“You are sleepy, Atharva.”
“I am fine.”
She pushed his arm off, stretched her legs out and pulled his shoulders down until his head was in her lap.
Baharon ko bhi naaz jis phool par tha, wohi phool humne chuna gulistaan se…
Grey sleep-heavy eyes blinked up at her.
She caressed her knuckles down his forehead.
His eyelids fell shut. Then opened again.
Silent. In this dark, with nothing but the stars as their light, how could she make out every contour, every feature, every single unique part of his face so clearly?
Maybe it was part memory, part intuition.
Something winked above them and they looked up in unison.
A faint trail. Then stillness. The valley was a dark bowl of silence underneath, its edges dusted with scattered pinpricks of light from far-off homes.
But the sky was an expanse so clean, it looked polished. And then it started. Like a whisper.
Another streak, this one not that faint. She gasped. “Is that a meteor?”
“Yes,” his low whisper was just as awed. The wonder in that voice was so precious that she did not have the courage to look down and see anything but amazement. So Iram only inhaled his voice.
“It’s like silver arcs that come and go, no?” She cued.
“Let it pick up speed, and then our eyes won’t have time to even count.”
And they came in droves then, arcs of quicksilver flares scattering across the dome of stars, some short and sharp like thrown sparks, others trailing a faint, glowing tail that lingered for longer than a heartbeat.
Every so often, one fell brighter and slower, almost defiant, before it was swallowed back into the dark.
“What is it that the movies say? Tootta tara…” she smiled, caressing his hair.
“These are rocks, not stars.”
Iram whirled down in shock. Grey eyes met hers and smirked — “Did I just destroy your childhood?”
“No,” she laughed. “But… rocks?” She looked back up and now it was a full disco in the sky. “How are rocks flying in the sky and looking like stars?”
“Most meteors are crumbs left behind by comets or asteroids. When Earth swings through the debris trail, gravity pulls those bits in. They hit the atmosphere at… thirty, forty times faster than a bullet. The friction makes them burn. That’s your glowing streak.”
“Trust you to compare anything to weapons.”
His head shook on her thigh, rattling with quiet laughter. She felt ten feet tall then.
“How do they not fall to the ground?”
“Burned before they hit the ground. Most of them, at least.”
“So we are basically looking at Earth being pelted by cosmic bullets?”
“Pretty much. A beautiful kind of violence.”
“You should have led with that,” Iram met his eyes.
“You wouldn’t have believed me.”
“I will always believe you.”
Their gazes locked, held tight, filled the vacuum between them after ages.
“I have not been fully present.”
“I do not ask any more,” she stroked the edge of his eye.
“You should. You once expected more from me.”