“And if I say that this is the last political suicide that will kill your career?”
“How many political suicidesamI allowed?”
“Please, Atharva,” her eyes squeezed shut.
“Fine,” he agreed to keep the snark out. That was all he had left to make his life, his conversations, his meetings palatable in this grim time. He curtailed it. “I will still go, Amaal.”
She opened her eyes, and Atharva was sure he saw her stance wobble.
“I want nothing more than for her to come home. But there are other ways.”
“No.”
“Atharva, we can send Mirza again…”
“No.”
“He is a good undercover journalist, you have sent him on missions before…”
“I said, no. He got scared the last time and look what happened! He was so close to her and couldn’t get in touch with her.”
“That’s because you hadn’t told him to…”
“Hogwash, “ he scoffed. “Mirza has never stopped because of my orders.”
“Do you know what the latest situation is like?”
“I know…”
“Not from your daily pile of newspapers and high level meetings. The real, behind-the-scenes psyche? The public is in a state of vacuum. Confused. They don’t know what to believe, who to believe. And that’s the most dangerous situation, Atharva, because vacuum is easy to fill. Quick to fill. Flowers or fish, whatever you fill first. And this is me telling you honestly — we are losing the narrative war. Forces beyond our control are working to turn you into a Hindu Soldier Dictator in Kashmir —those exact keywords.”
“Foreign funding, pseudo-liberals, communal forces…” Atharva began to count. And one Pakistani man, he counted in his head, thinking about Sayyid Butt’s accomplice.
“Whoever they may be, they are winning,” Amaal pushed. “And by going to Pakistan at such a crucial time, you will make an enemy out of the Indian Defence Forces too — the only group supporting you. The Centre too. Imagine, when both sides hate you, who will be left to support you then? Momina Aslam is already rallying that you have become weak in this crisis…”
“A loophole right there. I am weak or a dictator — cannot be both.”
“And that’s our attack for tonight’s debates. But you get what I am saying? If this blows up on the Indian military side, you will have zero support going forward. And right now, it feels like this situation will devolve. Take some time. Think…”
“I will not lose time on ifs and buts. I will go, and I will bring her back. I will also hold Kashmir together. There is no either-or.”
Silence. Amaal shook her head. That was as close as she would come to acceptance of defeat.
“How are you proposing to come out unscathed from this trip of yours?” She asked, this time curious, as if taking notes.
“I will go on an official peace tour to PoK.”
“Peace tour?” She snorted. “What fairytale are you planning to sell? Because let me tell you, there are no buyers right now…”
“The invitation of which is dated two months ago, before all this started.”
“Wha… how?”
“After we didn’t find her in Leh, before I dispatched Mirza to Nagar… I anticipated that it might come to this. So I had secured an open invitation from Azad University in PoK. We know people in the management there, they owe me favours. They will organize a peace festival and welcome me and the Chief Minister of Gilgit-Baltistan to inaugurate.”
“Wow, and you thinkthatis not scandalising?”
He took a deep breath.
