Page 145 of The Circle of Exile
“Oh, I am not feeling guilty.” Iram glanced at her. “I am just happy to discover that I could dip into the thought of my daughter and come back to my son without getting lost. That’s a big win for me today.”
Amaal’s mouth opened to say something when her eyes fell behind her and her smile froze. Iram frowned, glancing over her shoulder.
Samar stood there, sweet boxes in hand. He looked uncomfortable, glancing from her to Amaal, then back to her — “Uhh…” he trailed. “Amaal, where did you want these?”
“In the kitchen. I’ll take them,” she strode to him and accepted the boxes. “Iram, I brought chocolate barfi for everyone.”
Amaal’s voice disappeared inside the kitchen and Iram stared at Samar. The sounds of the ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ outside were now amplified in the silence of the hall, the mildly warm air thick.
“How are you feeling now?” Iram asked.
“What happened to me? You were… unwell,” he said tactfully.
She glanced at his arms, covered in full sleeves till the wrists where some scars still showed. His eyes landed there and his mouth rounded. “Right. It’s fine.”
Iram nodded — “I asked Amaal for any dietary restrictions…”
“There are none,” he cut her off.
She nodded.
More silence.
More awkwardness.
More looking everywhere but at each other.
“Atharva and everyone are outside,” she finally gathered the courage to break it.
“Yes. I saw. I’ll be out.”
“Oh, no, you can sit here. I didn’t mean it like that. If you want to lie down or something, the bedroom downstairs is also open.”
Samar’s mouth, that stiff, pursed, tight line of a mouth curved slightly. His glasses slid down his nose as he tipped his chin down — “I am fine. It’s been close to a year.”
“Oh… yes,” she forgot that his accident was as old as her son. He had saved the life of her son, her daughter and her. Debts worth three lifetimes, as Atharva had put it.
“How are you doing now?” Samar asked.
“Who, me?” Her brows shot up. “Oh, I am doing fine. Really, good.”
“That’s good. I’ll go out.”
Iram worked to smile, feeling something thaw but still half there. He turned on his heels and disappeared outside, his gait quick but a mild limp visible. Iram stared after him. Some people — you did not understand why they were in your lives. They played big roles, but the in-between was all vacuum.
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Stuffed full with chole-kulche, rajma-chawal and tandoori dishes roasted fresh in the garden, Iram ran her eyes over the troop settled in the garden. The patio table had been cleared of their dinner vessels and was now laid with Amaal’s chocolate barfi — a Jammu speciality everybody seemed to be fond of, the blondies that she had baked last night and hidden from Atharva, and salted caramel ice cream to go with it all. Maha was on her way to her third serving of all three desserts and Amaal was competing with her in polishing it off.
Atharva was deep in conversation with Adil and Samar, his miffed mood after he had discovered that there was no mango dessert now forgotten. Daniyal, though, stared blankly in the distance, his father’s eyes on him. Iram grabbed the glasses of water and walked to the table, Sarah behind her with pitchers filled with iced water that they knew would be gulped within minutes thanks to so much sugar inside everyone’s systems.
“Is he asleep?” Iram asked and Sarah peeped into Yathaarth’s cot that they had parked in the garden, covered with his mosquito net.
“Snoring. How do you manage alone? I had my mother both times and still I was exhausted.”
“I get tired too. Most days, I cannot see two feet ahead after midnight. It’s been months since I stayed up past 1 in the night. But this is the life I prayed for.”
“You sometimes say something so simple and make me wonder how wise you are.”
