“You know her?”
Samar stared at her, his eyes in hers for so long after long years. The difference was, once he had stared at her out of playfulness or frustration or plain habit. Right now, it was… some malady. Some craziness. She took a step towards him, but he turned on his heels and stalked away. Yet again.
Amaal stood there, lost. From the day, from the wavering paths her mind was jumping across, from Samar, all over again.
————————————————————
Samar bulldozed his way up to Atharva’s bedroom and slapped on the open door. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”
Atharva was at his window, arms crossed across his chest. They stared at each other, without a word. Samar stepped inside and quietly shut the door. He couldn’t raise his voice in here anymore without that girl hearing them, literally sitting on the top of their heads.
“Explain.”
“I judge people on the basis of facts. When Haider and his wife were murdered, she was chased by their killers but got out alive. She hasn’t been back in Srinagar ever since. Background is running, but her story is more or less corroborated.”
“More or less!” Samar caught on. “Do you not see how mental this is? Who saved that girl from those killers? Mohsin Sheikh and Sayyid Butt! Who else? Everybody in Srinagar was out for Haider’s blood at that time!”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“Why are you hellbent on having her here? She wrote a speech and some kids clapped. SO WHAT? Don’t you see this is a trap?”
Atharva turned. Samar stared at his back, his tongue running uncontrolled, his eyes seeing nothing but red.
“You are losing it, Atharva!”
Atharva did not budge. He was looking out of his window. He kept doing that. Atharva never did that! He never didn’t listen to him! And the red around Samar’s vision darkened.
“What do you think you are doing? This girl, she is Aamir Haider’s daughter. How can you let her live here, let alone work withus?”
He still did not budge. Or turn. Samar tried reason —“We have the odds in our favour Atharva. We have penetrated more than 3000 panchayats, won 74% of the municipal and district councils, the grass-root is ours. This election will be ours, and that too by a majority. For a first time party! Don’t you see we are riding a high wave?”
Atharva didn’t even flinch. Was this some soft spot opening for her poor little facade?
“Don’t waver from our goal. Don’t let that girl become a distraction.”
“Iram. Her name is Iram.”
Samar wanted to turn him around and punch his face.
“IramAamir Haider,” he sneered, holding himself back by superhuman effort.“That is her identity. Remember that. She doesn’t need anything from you. Kashmir needs it. Bring your hero complex out for Kashmir.”
Atharva was still closed off.
Samar turned around, pulled open the door and stormed down the alley and the stairs and ran smack into the spawn of Haider. She acted startled, clutching a bottle of water to her chest. “Hi,” she tried to act coy. Samar stared at her. She was so guileless in her appearance that there was no possibility that it was real. Her face was Kashmiri, her cheeks red, her eyes brown. A living, breathing Haider when a Chaturvedi had been massacred.
His nostrils flared. Aamir Haider had massacred Sia Chaturvedi. And then gone and pampered this daughter. How could he? How could his daughter still live, be happy, have the audacity to walk into this world,theirworld and insert herself here? In Atharva’s head?!
“Can I pass, please?” She smiled. And he stormed around her and down the rest of the stairs.
Samar went straight to Adil’s office, the space winding down around him. He still controlled himself and opened the door like a civilised man. Qureshi was there too. Perfect. There were three other junior members.
“All of you, out. I need a second with Adil and Qureshi.”
Within a moment, his command was obeyed. The door clicked shut, and he stared at the rest of his partners standing around the desk littered with computers.
“Are you both aware of what Atharva has done?”
“What?” Qureshi asked.
