RESCUING HEAVEN TAKES FLIGHT IN SRINAGAR WITH ATHARVA SINGH KAUL IN THE FRONT ROW
HT Cafe
Nagma Siddique
Srinagar
On a day when Srinagar’s streets were still echoing with chants from his final election rally, Atharva Singh Kaul chose to step into a quieter, more intimate space. The chief ministerial candidate of the KDP was present at the launch ofRescuing Heaven, the debut novel by Kashmir-based author Iram, at a packed bookstore in the heart of the city.
Kaul, often referred to by supporters as a messiah of change, admitted he is no longer an avid reader.“I don’t have that luxury anymore,” he said with a smile, before pointedly addressing the author,“With this book, who knows? I hope you can bring me back to reading.”
Iram, whose literary journey spans a library in Leh, years of blogging, and now a full-length novel, describedRescuing Heavenas“a tale of love, loss, and human emotion that is strong enough to conquer mountains,” set against Kashmir’s politically charged backdrop but free of ideology. Kaul echoed the sentiment, clarifying that the book does not profess any political stand.
Yet it was not just the literature that drew attention. From Iram’s stint at KDP’s communications department to persistent questions about their appearances together at a recent typhoid camp, whispers about their closeness hovered in the room. Both declined to elaborate, maintaining public distance.
As the crowd moved toward book signings and refreshments, one question lingered in the air: where does professional association end and something more personal begin?
Samar clicked out of the article and locked his mobile. He did not need to glean more media material. KDP was finishing its final rally in Srinagar, and Atharva could not stop playing the lovesick fool. He glanced up and found Atharva in deep conversation with Toru Ray of Star, the post-rally party in full swing.
Toru Ray stepped back from him and moved away. Samar saw her run into a man he knew. Khalil Khan. He checked for Atharva but he was nowhere in sight anymore. Samar took his eyes to Khalil Khan instead. The Head of North for Star. He was now talking to his star journalist, his eyes meeting somebody’s in the distance and smiling. Samar followed that gaze and his blood stilled in his veins.
Amaal.
She was walking towards them.
Khalil extended his arm mid-conversation with Toru Ray and Amaal went into it like she belonged there. The three of them made a circle, talking. But what remained remiss was Khalil’s arm around Amaal. And Amaal’s complete ignorance of the fact.
Or maybe she was aware.
Welcomed it.
Samar felt the still blood in his veins turn stone. It shouldn’t. It should keep flowing.
Khalil’s hand reached the ball of her shoulder and he stroked it up and down.
Samar had never touched her there.
Or anywhere.
She was the kind of girl you didn’t touch.
She was the kind of girl you admired from a safe distance, counting your lucky stars you got that front seat.
She was now not only in Khalil’s arm but also leaning back into him. Smiling. Turning her jaw to look him in the eye and laughing.
That dimple. That deep dimple. That fucking deep dimple that popped like an anomaly and stayed like a star.
His buzzing phone made him take his eyes off her face. Samar focused on the message he had just received.
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