“This one is big,” Atharva muttered, eyes on his laptop.
“I agree. But we don’t have to say yes to everything Amaal comes up with.”
“Have you sat in on any of our meetings?”
“No. Why?”
He snorted. “I say yes to 1% of what she comes up with.”
Samar’s eyes widened — “What else does she come up with?!”
Atharva shook his head, smiling triumphantly at his screen. Samar knew the ass was smug about this hire.
“She is working beyond the limits of her responsibilities,” Atharva remarked, reading his mind.
“The Kashmir Times fiasco…”
“She is impulsive, but that’s because she is young and trying to prove herself in a world that is ageist towards youngsters. And Kashmir Times wasn’t a fiasco. Itcouldhave become one.”
“Exactly my point.”
“Yes, I agree she needs more mentoring. But with time, I can see her passion transforming her into a solid leader.”
“Political leader?”
“Media leader. I am already letting her lead strategies and events. Speaking of,” he finally switched his gaze from his screen and reached for his mobile. “Where is she? We were supposed to discuss this Badamwari Bloom speech… Hello, Ehsaan? Is Amaal there…? Hmm… I didn’t know, I was on tour yesterday. Let me check.”
Samar pulled Atharva’s laptop closer and began reading the speech he had been working on. Samar was the last person to vet literature. Reading and writing for him had been limited to his medical college. Fancy words, heavy language, motivational jargon — that was Atharva’s thing. Samar was a doer. If he was given a roadmap, he executed it. To the T. It didn’t quite translate into writing or giving speeches, though.
“… are you feeling better now?”
Samar whirled his eyes up to Atharva.
“No, don’t worry about that. If the doctor says it’s typhoid, then rest… hmm… It’s common here in this season… Ok, let me know if you need anything.”
“Typhoid?” Samar asked as he ended the call.
“She has headache and high fever every evening for the last two days. Her doctor says it’s typhoid because it’s going around like every year in spring.”
“What? Without a blood test?”
“Apparently.”
Samar gaped — “Headache and high fever…” he muttered to himself. “Is her fever persistent or comes and goes?”
Atharva offered his phone — “Ask. And give me my laptop back.”
Samar traded the laptop for the phone and punched the last-dialled contact.
“Hello?” Her voice was nasally.
“Amaal, it’s Samar.”
“Hi. I just spoke to Atharva, I won’t be coming in today or the weekend…”
“I know. I didn’t call about that. You said you had typhoid?”
“Yes.”
