“Yes, my mistake, Dr. Samar Dixit, where… you…” she stumbled, then stopped. “Look, I am not a journalist so I don’t know what I am doing… if I say something out of line…”
“How did you do it with the others?”
She shrugged. “We just ended up talking…”
Samar looked away.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Jammu,” he answered, keeping his gaze off her.
Seconds ticked, and she said nothing. He glanced at her. “That’s the answer.”
“Right.” She looked down at her screen, then back up — “Why did you join the military?”
“Because I wanted to.”
“There must be a reason? Or someone inspired you?”
“No.”
“Uhh… ok, so… How… you were a doctor, right. So… How challenging was it, being a doctor on the battlefield?”
“Pushing in hanging intestines with hail pelting right inside my soldier’s open stomach and enemy just across the ridge we took cover behind. That’s not even the top 10 worst.”
She was scandalised. And rightly so. He did not pull any punches.
“How was your experience… in the military?”
“Good then bad.”
“What made you leave the military and choose politics?”
“Your father.”
She smiled. “So… how did Aamir Haider inspire you to become a leader?”
Target locked.
“He brought about the massacre of my company and almost killed me.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Safety unlocked.
“What happened Iram Haider? Can’t handle answers to the questions you asked?” He pushed his feet harder into the floor beneath them. “Then don’t dare ask again.”
“What did you say about my father?”
He plucked his specs from his shirt and slipped them on, then stood to his feet. “We are done here,Ms. Haider.”
“My father was a good ma…”
And fire.
“Oh shut up. Your father was a murderer and a traitor of the highest order. Andyou— stop going around like an angel in this Party. That Aamir’s Haider’s black blood flows through you and I have seen it show in your cunning acts.”
“Stop it, you don’t…”
