“She has been in Leh for the last twelve years. Worked in a library, lives on rent. She is here to publish her book. The process has been initiated. Nothing worth flagging, except one thing.”
“What?”
“She has reopened a case to claim her father’s house. The one next to where you live.”
“Hmm.”
“And Atharva has asked for the papers from SMC.”
Samar’s hand tightened on his thigh.
Their car crawled a few inches. The interiors remained silent. The lights flared in his eyes in the dark. And that feeling returned. Of being in the middle of a marsh. Iram Haiderwasthe marsh. She was consuming him, Atharva, KDP, all of them — without anybody realising it. They were all standing still while he fought. And the more he fought, the more she engulfed their space.
He had tried everything. But time was not in his favour, nor was circumstance. She was making friends in KDP, doing work to impress Atharva, slipping under every radar. She had gone and established herself in the main house, in Atharva’s attic no less. She had weaselled her way into Amaal’s and Adil’s good books. She had proven herself innocent of being an Awaami spy, in spite of being caught red-handed in front of their office. Her father was the founder of Awaami, and none of these fools he called his friends could see through it. She had become the helpless, pitiable damsel, and Atharva ran after her every chance he got. His hero complex was clouding his judgement.
Samar knew the SOP. Her father had come into their unit’s strategy like this. A wolf in a sheep’s garb. A civilian there to help. A politician with connections. A local, promising cooperation.
And then…
Samar ground his teeth, the scream shuddering inside him. Her name mumbling inside him. He controlled his rapidly rising breaths.
“Faris,” he said instead.
The man’s face turned over his shoulder again. Samar stared at him. He had gone with his impulsive instincts with Iram Haider until now. It hadn’t worked. And Atharva was right — the more you pushed the marsh, the more it engulfed you.
It was time to cut through it with Atharva’s brand of brutal calm.
“Put a man behind Iram Haider. Somebody new. Somebody that Atharva, Adil or Qureshi do not recognise.”
Faris nodded.
————————————————————
It was after 1 am that he finally walked to the outhouse, his head’s heaviness now also weighing on his chest. Samar stopped outside the main door and glanced at the windows. They were all darkened. The car’s weren’t there in the driveway. Was nobody home tonight?
Then he remembered. It was a Friday. They would have gone out to some corner of downtown Srinagar to party. Suddenly, he did not want to go into his room and fall asleep. He wanted to breathe some air. Quieten his mind. That would avert a bad night. He had been having more of those lately.
Iram Ha…
He stopped himself. Not again. Not tonight. He had to prep and quieten his head to fall asleep.
Samar stomped around the house and to the backyard. Out of sight of everybody — from the main house, the security and his roommates if they came home sooner.
He leaned back on the wall of the outhouse, looking up at the sky. Moon. Stars. All of that. None of it made him slow down. Samar looked down at the grass between his shoes. Dried and frosty. Nothing extraordinary. He grabbed his cracked elbow under his coat and squeezed. Pain. Pressure. Lingering long after he released his grip. Not enough to make his mind stop. Samar ran his tongue over his lips. Cracked. Tasting of the chai they had sipped on the highway. Sweet. Spice. He was in thenow. His head began to quieten. The whirring in his chest settled. His resting heart rate began to lower.
Why was he in this?!
That thought came out of nowhere and tore the calm he had painstakingly built. Samar gritted his teeth as his mind went out of his control again, hating how his rage multiplied.
Atharva had chiseled this team. And Atharva had encouraged his role as the damage controller, the cleaner, the shepherd who shot the wolves. And now he was himself protecting Iram Haider! The wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” Samar pulled the branch closest to his hand and snapped it. He panted. “Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” He crumpled to his haunches — his skin, his bones, his insides shaking. What was happening to him? He was going back to that. He was regressing. He couldn’t keep control of himself.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Get a grip.
Aamir Haider had betrayed them and Atharva had let him and Chaturvedi had died.
Iram Haider would betray them again and Atharva would let her again and…
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”
