“How was the offsite?” Atharva asked distractedly, eyeing the roof of the outhouse.
“Good.”
“You reached after dinner started.’
“Then why are you asking?”
Atharva stepped back from the door, studying the windows of the outhouse. There was a line of those, running the length of the wall.
“I am thinking of converting this outhouse into an employee’s quarters.”
Samar let the silence linger. Atharva marched to the back of the house, and came back after a long recce.
“Some of our talent has come from outside, and one of the outcomes at the offsite today was that they are not satisfied with their salaries, especially with the rent and utilities in Srinagar inflating the way they have been this past year. And the travel here. Rickshaws have started to charge a bomb. Adil said that was one common complaint. And I agree with him. We are here with our motivation set in stone. Not everybody can buy into it without any big returns.”
“Hmm.”
“Words, Samar.”
“Raze that Aamir Haider’s house across the wall and make a building there.”
Atharva chuckled. “No words, thank you.” He looked at him, coming and standing by his side — “You come into the main house, we will share the upstairs. This can be converted and offered as rent-free accommodation for our outstation staff if they want it.”
“And what if the number of staff exceeds the number of rooms?”
“Currently we only have eight outstation people. I figure, not all will choose to live in dorm-like rooms. But our responsibility is to offer, at least until the election is over or we can figure out another office space closer to the city. They save on rent, utilities, travel. Food is anyway served here all day. Shiva is managing fine.”
“And when this house fills up and there are still more people needing housing?” Samar pointed.
“First come first basis. If it’s full, it’s full. What do you think?”
“I am keeping my room, do whatever you want with the rest.”
“Are you sure? There will be people living here. Are you ok sharing?”
“My things are settled. I am fine.”
Atharva looked at him for a moment, then nodded.
“Let me know if you change your mind. The main house is always open. I will catch an architect tomorrow and pull out old plans for this one. We may need to do some work on plumbing and heating.”
Samar tipped his chin, pulling out his key and opening the main door. He heard Atharva’s footsteps recede in the background.
Without putting on the lights in the long hall, Samar walked through the dark to the furthest alley that housed only one corner room. He pushed the door open and switched on the light.
The bed was bare, just a sheet that he had changed this weekend. No pillows. His bag lay open on the table. His change of clothes.
It was winter, he wouldn’t need a bath. Hecouldnot take a bath or he would start feeling sleepy. He rubbed his hand over the swelling on the back of his neck. If he went to sleep with a possible concussion, chances were, he wouldn’t wake up tomorrow.
Samar divested of his jacket, pushed his feet out of his shoes and sat down on the bed. He turned to the window, the dark outside a contrast to the bright light inside. He went to switch off the bulb but stopped, realising it would instantly make him fall asleep.
Taking a deep breath, he crossed his legs and began counting the next areas of Srinagar that needed to be taken over. Batamaloo was down, Khanyar was ongoing. Shahr-e-Khas was next. Another Badamwari was not happening on his watch. Her face invaded his thought map breaking the static. And cleared away instantly. Samar shut his eyes. Sleep was close. He popped them open, staring at the night sky outside the window. And began plotting again — If he took Rainawari right now and controlled it, it would not only bring dominance over Shahr-e-Khas but also give Atharva leverage in negotiating with the Kashmiri Pundits he was wooing for funding. Her face came again. And again he shut his eyes. Sleep again.
Samar opened his eyes, far from frustrated. In a battle between her and sleep, he had to choose wakefulness. And he always did what he put his mind to.
It would stop happening in a while.
It had to.
