She smiled. “Hmm.”
Samar stepped back from her, turned, and rushed down the steps, needing to turn around and see her once but forcing himself to keep going without a backward glance.
————————————————————
Fifteen days turned the entire politics of Jammu & Kashmir on its head.
Atharva resigned. Qureshi swore in. And the SIT investigation took a backseat as per Yogesh Patel’s promise. If Atharva was not in constant public eye, it would be easier to settle everything until public memory moved on.
Samar finally flew back to Himachal, without meeting Amaal, because even though he had an hour on the day he left, she was in a soup — managing the newly sworn-in CM in a government that was largely still Atharva’s. Samar knew a change in cabinet, bureaucrats, designations was incoming. Qureshi had given him feelers to join in too. Health and Housing were still Janta’s, but Qureshi had offered Commerce.
Samar had declined.
He parked his car outside the Dak bungalow that HDP rented from one of its local Shimla members. This had been his residence over the last few months. Samar pulled out his mobile and saw Amaal had texted a couple of hours ago. He must have been on the plane.
AMAAL
You left without meeting me?
SAMAR
I’ll be back soon
AMAAL
Typing…
Then nothing. She went offline.
Samar looked up at the dark sky. Stars were pricking through but they weren’t enough. He was doing his best, but it wasn’t enough. He had felt a little perverse pleasure for a moment when Atharva had to step down. How was that good?
Samar unlocked the double doors, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. He switched on the lights, and the large hall with a double ceiling lit to life. Even the chandelier lit up. He switched it off, and all the rest of the lights except a small corridor bulb. He set his bag down, took off his shoes and made his way into the kitchen, turning on the faucets to let the water and debris flow. The fridge was empty because he had emptied it before leaving Shimla. He had gotten a bag of fruits. He washed the apples and cut them, then peeled a banana and bit into it. He made a mental note to call up the milkman and ask him to resume tomorrow, as well as the newspaper guy. He would also need to call the cook to resume.
His knee was knocking bad today. The fatigue of the last three weeks fell onto him. His mind was tired, his body more so. And he realised that it would be one year to the explosion. It would also be one year to Yathaarth’s birth.
His mobile beeped with a battery drained alert and he put it to charge in the hall. Samar finished his fruits and went to his bedroom. It was not as bare as he was used to, because it had come furnished. But it was just as the owner had left it. He emptied the clothes from his bag and threw them into the washing machine, then stripped out of his clothes and stepped inside the shower. He had stopped looking at himself in the mirror again. Once upon a time he didn’t care for it, now, he was consciously trying to not care about it.
Samar pulled on his loose shorts, threw his night medicines into his mouth, gulped water and fell onto the bed. He went to sleep before the next thought could hit him.
He woke up to the shrill pinging of his mobile in the distance. He squinted. Where was he? Samar looked around, and figured out which city, which house, which room he was in. His mobile was still ringing. He got off the bed and limped out into the hall. The small light guided his way because he couldn’t navigate this place in the dark yet. His knee was hurting and his back felt extra numb. He rubbed it, feeling the dry, scaly skin scrape his palm. The muscles were sore. Age was catching up. Or was it the abuse his body had taken in the last twenty years?
His mobile went silent, then picked up again. Samar reached it in time to see Atharva’s name.
He disconnected it from the charger.
“Hello?”
“Were you sleeping?”
Samar pulled the mobile down to squint at the time.
“It’s 3.30, what do you think?”
“I am being externed.”
“What?”
“I have to leave Srinagar in the next 72 hours.”
