“Leave it to me.”
————————————————————
Amaal had just turned 24. But she knew how to speak like she was 42. Or older.
She gathered her hair up. Twisted it, twisted it, twisted it. She wrapped it tight and pinned it in place. She filed her nails over each other, taking her eyes to the window. The media room was empty now, and she let a minute pass, telling herself that she was the head of this entire system. She was the Media Head. The woman who called the shots here. She told herself that KDP was the party that was about to win the election. And that she was sitting on four leaders’ profiles whose five minutes were worth lakhs.
“If not you,” she remarked to the thin, still air in front of her. “Ten others will line up.”
Amaal cracked her neck, picked up her mobile and punched CALL on the number Ehsaan had forwarded. Kashmir Times’ senior journalist, Sana Shaikh.
“Hello?”
“Sana Shaikh,” Amaal pronounced in her thickest British accent. In her short stint here, she had discovered that accents worked like magic in intimidating people. Indian English was the most easily understood English, and yet Indians were mesmerised by somebody speaking in an American or a British accent.
“Yes,” she went solemn. “Who is this?”
“Amaal Durrani, KDP.”
“I already spoke to your PR person. Can’t recall his name… we have revised a quote for the interview. It’s heavily discounted after your sponsorship request for the Lit Fest was processed. It should be in your mailbox.”
“We will not pay money.”
“Then we will not run an interview. The pages you inquired about are paid pages.”
“We did not inquire about any particular page.”
“Political coverage this month is all paid for between pages 4 and 7.”
“Surprising, because I am looking at Mohsin Sheikh’s op-ed on Page 6.”
The woman laughed — “That’s the CM, dear.”
“The op-ed is his take on the devaluing of the Indian rupee against the dollar. A union list subject that has nothing to do with his position as the CM.”
A pause. Then — “Listen, we will not be running any free press for you.”
“Now you came to the point.” Amaal sat back, crossing one leg over another. “Forus.”
“Excuse me?”
“Kashmir Times has been running extensive promotions for Awaami Party even in the non-election season. The only two smaller parties in the state get minor to zero coverage. Doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”
“I am busy. If you don’t wish to pay, this conversation is pointless.”
“I will pay,” Amaal countered. “But not in cash.”
“Ok, I am repeating — your sponsorship of the Lit Fest is not payment enough.”
“But an exclusive on something big next week is.”
Silence.
“Come again?”
“Think about it, Sana. Let me know by,” she glanced at her wrist watch. 11.25 am. “11.45. Kashmir Times may be one of the three premium newspapers of the valley, but there are many more journalists of your calibre for the exclusive.”
“What exclusive…”
