“Top shape.”
“Sir, please.”
“Yes, one second…” Samar held up his finger. “And what about the tapes?”
“I have not found any time to work on them in all this.”
“Right. Ok.”
33. Tectonic plates under KDP were shifting…
Tectonic plates under KDP were shifting. An assassination attempt was made on Atharva in Jammu, he flew out to meet the Union Home Minister — Yogesh Patel of Janta Party in Delhi, and suddenly KDP was thinking of allying with Janta Party.
Kashmir Development Party, which had looked strong enough to form an independent government only two months ago, before Iram Haider arrived, was now reduced to garner post-poll support in the eventuality that the results tanked and went towards Awaami. Sufiyaan Sheikh as the Chief Minister of Jammu & Kashmir was a nightmare even for the devil.
That left Samar in a lurch. On the one hand, he was in favour of this decision simply because it was a last-ditch effort to get them a shot at forming government; on the other, he was hounded by Sayyid Butt because…traitor. On the one hand, where he saw an alliance with the ruling central government as a major boost for their work in the valley, on the other, he foresaw the practical challenges of working with a new set of people, ministers and members from another party. The anticipation of that friction gave him sleepless nights. He wasn’t a man built to work well with strangers.
And while nobody could predict if KDP’s decision to tie up with Janta Party was right, one fine day Samar discovered why it had been made.
Adil’s incessant evasion about the tapes finally ended. From “I haven’t gotten the time to do it,” “The files have gotten corrupted,” and “You broke my equipment, asshole,” Adil finally announced that the recordings were permanently damaged.
“They are irretrievable now.”
And, Atharva changed the password of the office safe. The one that belonged to all four of them.
It was on a bright summer mid-morning that Samar found himself in Atharva’s house, at a time when neither Atharva nor Iram were home.
“Saab aur Bhabhi nahi hai[99],” Shiva droned as he strode into the hall.
“Office toh hai na.” Samar droned back, turning and walking towards the alley, files in hand. “Atharva ko bolna yeh office mein rakh ke jaa raha hoon.[100]”
Samar turned the handle, pushed open the door and stared at the office. Light flooded in, bringing in all that was gone — the good old days. He closed the door, locked it soundlessly and strode to the safe behind Atharva’s desk. The changed password had been communicated to all of them. Samar entered it. The safe beeped ERROR. Samar’s suspicion turned stronger. Atharva wanted them to enter the wrong password, confront an ERROR, contact him and have him in the room when they opened, if they did.
Samar had another minute before Shiva turned suspicious. And in that moment, he recalled the last time he had seen Atharva use the safe a week ago to retrieve bank locker keys. His arm had moved in the same old pattern. Old password. But he had said he had updated the password before that…
Like a flash of lightning, one of Atharva’s craziest strategies whizzed past him.
Update a manual for all, let it slip through the cracks, and go back to the old one.
Samar input the old password. The safe whirred.
He pulled the door open.
Everything was as it is. Nothing out of place. Samar memorised the positions, and began taking everything out. Bank locker keys, insurance papers, policy jackets, party papers, ledgers of investments, stacks of cash. And there it was, a hard disk cover he had never seen before, stacked behind boxes of gold bars. He opened it, and found a hard disk inside.
When the entire locker was emptied, and nothing else came out as suspicious as this, Samar began packing it up. In a minute, he had packed it like he had found it. He closed it, stuffed the hard disk under his shirt and pulled out his phone. He toggled it to silent, reduced the brightness and plastered it to his ear, stalking out of the room.
“…Yes, get it done.” He closed the door and stood in the alley, nodding, humming, pretending he was on call. Shiva’s eyes were on him, and he continued to stand there, at the door, whiling time.
“No,” he droned, then strolled to and fro in the alley. When a good minute had passed, Samar ended the call. He pocketed his mobile and walked out of the house. Probably for the last time.
————————————————————
“Haider saab, bohot arse ke baad humara radio connect kiya. Copy?”
“Copy that. Yahan problems badh rahi thi, army roz checking ke liye ghar par aa padti hai. Iske baad aapse phir kab baat kar paaye, maloom nahin. Shamsuddin saab ko keh dijiyega ki abhi toh jung ki baat bhul hi jaaye.”
“Hume maloom hai. Kashmir ke Assembly elections radd kar diye gaye hai. Aap ki party ke jeetne ke toh waise bhi dur-dur tak koi aasar nahi the.”
