He exhaled, closing his eyes. They burned.
The day of grave emergency had reminded him of his typical day in SFF, running and checking patients, a hundred and one thoughts, diagnosis, prognosis, names of medicines playing in his mind, hands numb after taking sutures, eyes burning without sleep or food. Working like clockwork on human bodies.
Catching a quiet corner behind the outhouse, he made the call he had been dreading. Thirteen missed calls from Sufiyaan Sheikh and one from Sayyid Butt. He pulled out a SIM card and started to insert it into his phone. He glanced around, catching Amaal’s bedroom light streaming from her window. But she wasn’t home. Amaal had left for a night out with her media team to celebrate one of their birthdays. He wondered why he was looking at her window and thinking about her. Why did he even know her schedule?
Maybe it was because she had been the kindest to him today, aloof but kind. He had been at home all morning, not turned up for any of his commitments. And out of all the people who should have called to check, only Amaal had. She was not that girl who had once walked around worshipping the idea of him. It was all professional now. It gave him relief. But as he was putting together the burner phone, his eyes still on her window, Samar couldn’t help but think of Sia.
Whenever he saw Amaal nowadays, his mind reeled back to her. Sia Chaturvedi had been nothing like this kind, intelligent girl. She had been a tough mind interwoven with threads of patriotism and misplaced passions. Nothing soft, nothing warm about her. He had joked with her, quarrelled with her, bickered with her… even wrestled with her. Never had he experienced anything warm with her. Except, on that night when he had confirmed her suspicions of pregnancy. In captivity.
Sia’s tough personality had often kept him awake long after midnights in his cantonment clinic, sitting beside injured soldiers, dying soldiers, thinking about her iron core. Even when he knew she was gone.
Amaal didn’t make him stay up nights, she didn’t feature in his thoughts. He didn’t think about her or miss her when she wasn’t around. And then he realised it. Hewasthinking of her in the confines of his loneliness.
The small burner phone booted up. Grateful for the distraction, Samar dialled Butt.
“Oh ho, Samar sahab finally calls back,” Sayyid Butt’s cool voice emanated from the other end.
“Hello, how can I help you?”
“By ceasing your movement in Hajan right away, for starters.”
Samar perched on a low ledge. “Let Hajan come to KDP.”
“No.”
“You can’t do anything now. I was there, I saw it. Your Mayor is swayed. Spend a fortune on Hajan right now, or rest easy because anyway we are heading for a coalition.”
“And what if we don’t? What if you refuse at the end moment?”
“In your own words, Butt sahab — A complete majority will never be possible in this state, neither for you, nor for us. You take Muslim majority with the way Sufiyaan has been going about his rallies, we take Ladakh, Jammu and pockets. And why wouldn’t I join hands with you? We have our deal. I am working here. Even though that has jeopardised Atharva’s trust.”
“What?”
“He knows about the train attack. My deal with Sufiyaan.”
“How did he find out?”
“I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.”
“If there’s a mole in my ship…”
“It’s in mine. But the point is, I need to regain his trust.”
“And that is through Hajan?”
“It’s a step. Don’t touch it now. Let it go.”
“Have I told you about that time I made three consecutive ruling governments in this state?” Sayyid Butt offered. “Not been in any, made them.”
“I know what you mean.”
There was a pregnant pause. Samar waited it out. This was a dangerous three-side tag he was playing. He was sinking hard and fast in this quicksand, not sure if he would remain in the party tomorrow. All he had left were empty bluffs and hollow leverages. And lord help him if he wouldn’t use every last one of them.
“I don't hand out favours for free, Samar sahab.”
“I don’t expect you to.”
“You owe me, then.”
