“We know about the degrees. Tell us something beyond what’s there on your resume.”
“I am a diehard skincare enthusiast?” She responded cheekily. And made Atharva Singh Kaul laugh. His partner, though, remained stoic. Did he not understand humour? Amaal ignored him and went on — “I come from a Kashmiri family. We migrated out of here when I was in 3rd standard. The plight of Kashmir that my parents understood then, probably I didn’t. I only saw loss of home, not the escape that my parents provided with great difficulty for us. Like so many Kashmiris escaping here, London became our haven, but not home as such. My Masters was in South Asian Politics. And as you can guess, the memory of home always pulled me into every debate and research paper that had Kashmir’s name on it. When I completed my studies and the mandatory six months at Reuters to show on my resume, I came to Mumbai in search of something more concrete in Kashmir media. I was appalled to find that there is nothing. Kashmir doesn’t even have a dedicated beat or journalist in most major news agencies. And where it is, there’s nothing but op-eds glazing over our lived history. That’s when I saw your opening.”
“You do know that the Kashmir of today is just as torn as that of your school era, right? On the surface it is still, but there’s lava bubbling just underneath.” Atharva Singh Kaul said quietly. “Militancy is not a great backdrop for a cushy job.”
“I don’t think you know what a media coordinator’s job is.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s far from cushy,” she enlightened. “And as for the militancy, lakhs of Kashmiris are living in this state right now. I will live like them, too.”
The brows of Atharva Singh Kaul’s face relaxed. His eyes, grey and bright, softened, amused maybe at a 23-year-old’s tall claims. Amaal knew they weren’t tall claims.
“For somebody who has lived in London through their formative years, you don’t have an accent.”
“My parents speak plain English mostly. And my accent switches with people’s accents.”
“Are you here for the long haul or is this a stepping stone to something else? Your answer will not affect your candidacy for this job.”
“I am here for the long haul.”
Atharva Singh Kaul nodded, pushing up to his feet. “Thank you for coming in, Ms. Durrani. This was a very interesting conversation.” He held his hand out. She got to her feet, taking it. He gave it a firm pump, his eyes smiling. “I am happy to have met you.”
Not a standard ‘It was a pleasure to meet you.’ Amaal could see why his speeches worked so well on YouTube. Amaal could also glean why he looked so handsome now. Imperfect because of the slash on his cheek but commanding with his eyes. A young man from the military, out to wade into the cesspool of politics. She had felt an aura in the room when she had entered. She now knew why.
There was earnestness.
Either it was a brilliantly built facade, or it was true and rare as the rarest black lotus. If she worked with him, she would know which one for sure.
The movement to his side caught her attention. Dr. Samar Dixit got to his feet, pushing his hands into his pockets. He was so tall that she had to crane her neck to look at him.
“You got three things wrong,” he pronounced.
Amaal held his eyes.
“One — we did not go for fencing to hold back wolves. If you had done your research competently, you would have discovered that the wolves were attacking the village due to a mass Pakistani infiltration bid from the forests across Kishanganga. ISI-trained terrorists, setting camp in the wolves’ homes, pushing them across the river. We did it all to stop that.”
Amaal kept staring at him.
“Two — we did not lose elections after that due to lack of communication. We lost because we fielded the wrong candidates.”
Amaal didn't even flinch.
“Three — We are not in a bid todip our toesinto this election.” He glanced at Atharva Singh Kaul. He got a nod, as if he was allowed to say it out loud. “We are going into Jammu Kashmir Legislative Assembly Elections 2014 to form a government.”
Amaal glanced at his partner. Atharva Singh Kaul blinked with a nod to diffuse the tensed air — “Thank you for coming in, Ms. Durrani. We will be in touch. Are you in Srinagar for the foreseeable future?”
“Yes,” Amaal nodded. “Until the 5th.”
“Then we will make sure to give you an answer before that.”
“One way or another, you will make at least one Durrani happy,” she chuckled.
“What does that mean?”
“I would be happy to work with you, my father would be happy if I am not working in Kashmir. It’s a win-win. So, take your time.”
Atharva Singh Kaul burst into a low laugh. “Now that has taken the load off.”
