In that emptiness, where nothing had been able to take root, Amaal’s voice now remained.
It refused to go.
You are ok.
The door was shut between them, but shewason the other side.
Shewas.
Sit here quietly.
There must be something good inside him, that she had come running into his arms. And stayed.
III: The Result
27. Samar stared at Sayyid Butt…
Five Days Later…
Samar stared at Sayyid Butt, the firefighter of Awaami Party. Sufiyaan Sheikh’s mentor. White beard, hazel eyes, lean body — an unremarkable Kashmiri grandfather in his bandhgala. Mohsin Sheikh and Aamir Haider’s third partner, as old as them, and probably more shrewd than both of them put together. Now, he was the only founding member of Awaami alive.
His eyes were ancient, sharp, focusing on him through rimless spectacles identical to his. Silent. The man behind him grinned. Samar found his eyes moving onto him — the animal. Sufiyaan Sheikh waved from the ledge of the low windowsill of the dilapidated room they had first met in.
“Sayyid sahab,” Samar addressed the mentor. “I only agreed to meet you, but this is going nowhere. We agreed on conditions and he has breached them.”
“Where did you make me sign? Show me.” Sufiyaan Sheikh hissed back.
Samar pressed his mouth tight, regretting the day he had first stepped foot inside this small house.
“No answer?” Sufiyaan smirked. “Just let it go, Dr. Dang… In any case, what’s the big deal? Both of them escaped alive, no?” He lounged back, one foot draped out of the windowsill.
“You bastard,” Samar lunged, but stopped short when Sayyid Butt stepped in front of him.
“We agreed on only keeping Iram away from Atharva,” Samar maintained. “You wanted to have her back in your party and that is why I gave you their location!”
“So, I did talk to her,” Sufiyaan shrugged. “But she wouldn’t listen without some… effort…” he thrust his hips.
“I don’t know how I trusted your brotherly rant about her…”
“Because you hate her.” Sufiyaan shot to his feet, all traces of humour gone. He advanced on them — “You wanted her gone from your friend’s life. Any means possible. You are as much an animal as me.”
Samar crossed the room and had Sufiyaan by the collar before the man could blink. Sayyid Butt couldn’t even come in his way. Even so, Sufiyaan grinned. And then that perfect grin was wiped off when Samar pushed him back and half down the window.
“Ayeee!” Sufiyaan screamed, flailing wildly, grasping Samar’s shoulders, his shirt, grasping for the sides of the window. Samar pushed him further down and Sufiyaan’s hands slipped from the sides, most of his body out of the short railing. “…the fuck are you doing?!! Pull me back, pull me…” Samar only held him by his collar now, eyeing the people going about their work in the street, glancing surreptitiously up and then scuttling away.
Samar sensed Sayyid Butt behind him, old fox eyes trained on his hand as it held Sufiyaan half in and half out. The fall would be nearly three floors, he calculated, appraising the surroundings. Worst-case scenario — he would be injured, hands and legs broken. Best case scenario — he would have a paralytic attack and lose some physical and mental function. Whatever happened, it would be a service to mankind.
“Come now, Samar sahab. You know as well as I that you won’t be able to leave here alive if you drop him,” Butt soothed from behind him, his voice calm and collected, not in the least bit worried that Samar held Awaami’s future between life and death. “Get him back, he will apologise to you.”
“Never,” came a hoarse shout from down below. Samar loosened his grip.
“Ayee… hey!” Wild arms flailed and Samar caught the collar back, yanking hard to bring the bastard to his feet. Sufiyaan crashed into the low table, breaking his fall with two hands.
“Get ready to apologise to Iram Haider and the public.” Samar spat. “I refuse to honour an agreement that was not honoured on your side. So I am free to talk to the police, to the public and to Atharva.”
“No, Janab, you will not,” Sayyid Butt suggested.
“And why wouldn’t I?”
