She whacked the pillow across his mouth this time.
39. It was a whole month before they met again…
It was a whole month before they met again. And they met in a whirlwind, for a moment.
Amaal sat for a regular scheduling meeting with Adil and Qureshi for government and party obligations in Srinagar. Samar was optional on the table, because he did not need scheduling with the Press Secretary. And he wasn’t even in the city. He had been travelling through Gurez and surrounding valleys for the Panchayat elections, pushing pro-Indian agendas and KDP membership drives along with promoting the free clinics and diagnostic centres that the government was opening up in every district. She spoke to him whenever the network was within reach for him, which was once every few days.
Their last conversation had been two days ago, an exchange of update messages.
Reached? Reached.
When are you returning? Next week mostly.
That was why Amaal sat up, zapped when she heard his voice behind her.
“Good morning.”
“How was Gurez?” Qureshi asked.
“The same. Anti-India, pro-Pakistani,” he relayed, closing the conference room door and walking on quick footsteps that played in sync with her heartbeat. Amaal moved her fingers around on her trackpad, keeping her eyes on her laptop screen until she could bring herself under control.
“What’s the use of you running drives there if it doesn’t turn?” Adil quipped.
“The CM should do more events there.” Samar came around the long horseshoe-shaped table and sat down in front of her. Amaal looked up quickly at him and flashed a polite smile for the other two occupants’ benefit.
“How are you, Amaal?” Samar took off his specs and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. She looked at him again. He looked tired.
“Good. You look tired.”
“Hmm. Long weeks. But I am pleased to inform that KDP membership in West Kashmir has crossed the one thousand mark. And it’s distributed across all districts. No place is left without KDP.”
“That’s unprecedented.” She sat up. “But if you ask for the CM or these ministers for more events…”
“Actually, I do.” He sat up too, putting his specs back on, eyes challenging.
The door pushed open and she heard Atharva’s voice as he talked to Singh Sir quickly. Nowadays he was always running.
“How is it that Atharva has no minute between two meetings and you have half an hour to spare, Qureshi?” Adil asked as Atharva still talked at the door.
“Difference between CM and Commerce Minister,” Qureshi deadpanned. “And let’s ask your secretary if you even go for meetings.”
“Look at this entire system,” he pointed to the state-of-the-art screens running the length of the old-school conference room. “Multiply this by all government offices of the state. That’s me.”
“Hello, thanks for waiting.” Atharva closed the door and strode in, Zafarji on his heels.
“It’s just us, you can drop the formality,” Adil pointed. Amaal smiled at Atharva as he took the chair at the helm.
“Then take this meeting off the record,” Atharva nodded at Zafarji.
“Yes, sir.” He went and sat down on one of the secretary chairs lined up on the side of the room. They were just the six of them in the massive conference room now, no mics needed. Like old times. But the temperature of the room was not as warm as the old times. Because Atharva and Samar were present in the same room.
“Ok,” Amaal broke the silence. “We are here to schedule for the next three months. I have spoken to each of your secretaries and we have five overlaps that need to align, non-negotiable. They wouldn’t agree and I got the honour of all four of you in the same room.”
“You know what’s important and what’s not, Amaal,” Atharva cut to the chase. “Feel free to override my secretaries.”
“REALLY?” She made an amused sound, eyeing Zafarji over her shoulder.
“The CM only does what the CM wants to do.” Zafarji deadpanned.
