Page 20 of The Circle of Exile
3. Your name is a bubble, faint as a whisper on my lip…
Your name is a bubble
Faint as a whisper on my lip
Pinging off the walls of my heart
Lived far too long
As long as our separation
I wonder why it never burst
Why its walls never tired
Of holding the weight of nothing
But then I remember
That death is easier than love
And when has my heart ever chosen easy
Where you were concerned?
The Karakoram Ranges parted away, opening up a clear, wide sky and more snow-capped mountains in the distance. The ones in their proximity were bright orange, burnt with the trees of the same colours that he had seen back home. The mountains stood like sentries in repose, allowing the dusty road to wind down from Gilgit Airport to the valley of Hunza. It was like being in the mind of God himself, ruthless and merciful — all at once. Like standing between wars — security that you knew was deceptive.
Atharva glanced at their driver — their state-assigned driver. He knew he wasn’t just a driver or even an experienced security personnel at that. The set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head, even the purposeful shag of his haircut gave him away. An operative. Atharva knew Altaf’s senses were also attuned to this man, sitting beside him on the passenger seat.
Yathaarth made a squeak, and his hand went to his stomach, rubbing circles, the belt of his carry cot a hindrance. His son made another sound, and Atharva knew he wanted to be set free.
“Come here,” Begumjaan turned in the seat on the other side of Yathaarth and popped his bottle into his mouth. He latched on — always hungry.
“You owe me for disrupting my sleep,” Begumjaan cooed to Arth. “And your Ammi owes me three trips to tend to the farms. It’s harvest season.”
Atharva held back his smirk. She was the wife of an ex-soldier and the shrewdest military advocate out there. She was alsotheSafiya Begum. Of course, she saw through pretences and appearances too.
“You can keep mother and son both once she is back from Ada’s,” Atharva added to her fairytale. Naughty green cat eyes gleamed at him — “You will say that only. Eh, Janab? Midnight feeds got to you so soon? This is just the beginning, let the teething start.”
“She can deal with that. If I don’t get my 6 hours at night, I cannot function,” he laughed quietly. His insides were roaring.Change my name if I don’t find you sneaking away to your attic leaving these two to me.
“Is this the silk route?” Atharva asked the driver, sitting up as they entered a new cut road. It was paved smoothly, a charity of China’s — on paper. Behind the scenes, it was a strategic security infrastructure against India. Atharva knew this was indeed the ancient silk route, connectingXinjiang to the northernmost edge of Kashmir and onwards to Kabul. And a road built by a foreign country in an occupied land that belonged to him. To India.
“Ji, Janab,” the driver replied eagerly, ready to engage him in conversation.“This is the ancient silk route that connectedKashmir and Xinjiang in China.”
“Was it developed recently?” Atharva prodded.
“No, Janab. These roads were paved around 20 years ago by the Mir of Nagar. Not the current Mir, his father. Since then, the Pakistani government has to be thoroughly harassed every year to maintain it.” The driver laughed lightly, evoking some comment, some reaction, something from him.
So that’s how China had come in — using the Mir as the facade,Atharva noted. He threw his own googlie — “Are royal titles still recognised here?”
If the driver was bemused, he did not show — “Ji, Janab. You mean the Mir of Nagar?”
“Yes.”
“The Mir’s titles are only for name sake now, like you have in India…?” He went on, giving away his own in-depth knowledge about Indian royalty. Not that good of an operative then.
“Now what’s happening is, the Gilgit provincial government and Pakistani army commanders rule here. The Mir, our current Mir, that isMir Faiz Qadri Rehman Ali, he is very young. And a little crazy. Faiz’s father was also not as strong. Though Allah knows he tried. He was too ambitious for his own good and kept waiting for some miracle to happen. What miracle only Allah knows…”
