“Landing. ETA 2 minutes 19 seconds,” Altaf relayed into his satellite phone. Iram glanced at him sitting across from her. Atharva had remained in contact with him all through their journey from the closed, lonely airport of Gilgit till here. Atharva must have asked something on the lines of permissions because Altaf reached for his second phone, scrolled, then relayed some technical-sounding aviation words.
“Please fasten your seatbelt, Madam,” he relayed to her.
“You too,” Altaf eyed Rahim Chacha by her side, who hadn’t stopped murmuring prayers under his breath as soon as they had taken off.
“Chacha,” Iram reached out and helped him fasten the seatbelt. He had been fearless, a constant source of strength to her as they had crossed the LoC on foot amid circumstances worse than this.
“Sir wants to speak to you,” Altaf held out his phone. Iram accepted it.
“Hello?”
“Amaal and Captain Husain are waiting for you on the tarmac. You will be staying at a hotel until sunrise and then take the road. If my engagements here end on time, we will land in Srinagar around the same time as you reach there.”
A squeak sounded behind him.
“Is that Yathaarth?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He woke up for a feed.”
“You are feeding him?”
“Yes.”
Iram’s heart clenched, imagining him monitoring her safe undercover return to Srinagar while feeding their son. The image it conjured was both tender as well as caused a deep, aching longing inside her. She still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she had a son.Theyhad a son. And that… Atharva was taking care of him. Begumjaan had told her a little. How Yathaarth had been born with a heartbeat, then it had stopped, and then been revived. He had suffered for two full days in the NICU with a low heart rate before Dr. Shankar announced that he would pull through.
And Atharva. Begumjaan did not tell her what Atharva had been doing then and Iram didn’t want to imagine what he was doing while their son was fighting for his life, their daughter… gone, and she had run off, abandoning him to it all.
“Hand me back to Altaf, Iram.”
She dutifully passed the phone back, setting her head back on the seat as the plane began to circle the tarmac. The Indian tricolour fluttering in the wind was the first sight she witnessed in the middle of the bright tarmac lights. The military airstrip was lit up for their plane. And Begumjaan’s words stirred echoes inside her ears.If you can’t recognise yourself, remember that this land, this place, this mud remembers you. It holds you in its bones. This land recognises you.
The plane touched ground and the hair at the back of her neck rose stiff. An unbelievable thrill coursed through her body. She hadn’t acknowledged it to herself on the way here but every second in a foreign land had felt like a ticking time bomb. Snooze was hit now.
Iram gasped quietly. She had called that land foreign in her head. That meant she recognised this land,herland,herhome. Srinagar. Not Nagar. Her Srinagar. Not Aamir Haider’s Srinagar. Not Atharva’s Srinagar. Her Srinagar.
The plane taxied and trailed to a stop. Iram didn’t get a chance to even glance out of the window as Altaf rose to his feet and strode to the door, unlocking it and rolling it down.
“Madam?”
“Yes,” she pushed to her feet and walked down the small aisle, Rahim Chacha behind her. She stopped at the door and turned to face Altaf — “Thank you.”
His stoic face softened momentarily before he tipped his chin in front of her. Iram turned and the icy wind slapped her in the face. The icy fangs of Ladakh. She had forgotten this wasn’t Srinagar but Kargil. Still home. And there stood the woman who made this beautiful home so much more beautiful. One single car was parked behind her, Captain Husain with his hands clasped in front of him.
Iram descended the stairs and Amaal was walking towards her, running.
“Oh, my god,” Amaal embraced her even before she had walked halfway across the tarmac. The warmth of her arms dispelled the cold of the night. Ice was cleared on both sides of the tarmac, as well as from inside her.
“I’m so sorry,” Iram said, squeezing her tight, burying her face in her shoulder. She didn’t know what else to say.
“It’s alright.”
Iram didn’t realise how soothing those two words felt until somebody said them to her.
“Come on.”
