Page 205 of The Circle of Exile
She smiled — “Fair. And your son has become very demanding lately.”
“He needs zuv-zuv’s attention all the time.”
“Genetic problem.”
“I see now, I feel what you must have felt then. Or maybe a fraction of it, at least. The living in half, the drifting in water without any roots. It’s taking me everything to go from one day to the next. How did you live with that and give birth to our babies, myani zuv…” Atharva’s face began to crumple but she cupped his jaw, steadying it all.
“There is no competition. And, jo beet gayi so baat gayi. Hmm?”
He gaped at her.
“You once told me, that there are two of us in a marriage. One of us is enough to pull through at any given point. This time, I am pulling through. You rest. Take your time. Play with Arth…” she ran a finger down his nose, making an amused grunt pop out of his mouth. “If you don’t like working at HDP, don’t. We are not strapped for finance at this point. You have secured your land income. My second book is coming out and you know the hype that has already cashed in. I am starting with the third one and this time I will not stall. I will ride this momentum.”
“I know,” his eyes sparkled. “When you run, you rattle, myani zuv.”
“See?” Iram grinned. “We are in a good place. Look at this,” she nudged her chin up at the clear ceiling, bringing the shooting meteors into their space. “This is a good house, an observatory, space enough for Arth to tumble down and run around and grow up. Even if we do not return home for now, we will make our home between the two of us. We will look at stars, play our records, go on dates which — when I propose, you have to accept. You will take us for long drives, hop cafes to find the best white pasta and black coffee, play the guitar, sing to Arth…”
“And to you too.”
“And to me too. Go back to workouts in the morning…”
He huffed. Iram held his jaw — “You need to get back to your routine, Janab.”
“Scared of a husband with a paunch?”
She reached down and tapped his belly. It wasn't a paunch yet but half a year of sedentary lifestyle was beginning to show. “I like my husband any way I can get him. But you need to go back to feeling in control of your mornings. Move your body again, run, because that’s where you feel the most alive. Captain Kaul, holiday is over.”
He smiled, his lips turning down. And what a smile that was!
“Life will not be like we imagined once, but it will still be ours,” Iram ran her knuckles down his stubbled cheek, down the scar that didn’t even stand out to her anymore. His lips turned down further, telling her his entire soul was smiling at her. “We did not win this time, but that’s not what heroes do, isn’t it?”
His hand snaked up and behind her head. He pulled her down — “You’re right, myani zuv. Heroes don’t run to win. They run to live.”
And her mouth was captured in his.
39. There was a sadhu once…
There was a sadhu once, hair matted, beard streaked with frozen dirt and frost, eyes slits, peeping from between folds of tired skin. There was that sadhu once, on a winter evening in the mountains of Ladakh. In a saffron dhoti and a plain cloth draped over his shoulders. He filled his belly with one final meal, took one last drag of his chillum. Then threw the chillum, shrugged off the cloth from around his shoulders and began to march back to the mountain’s peak in searing cold.
Atharva popped his eyes open even before his alarm went off. The sun was yet to streak inside, yet to even rise. He checked on his son, freshened up, changed into his jogging gear and sat down on a chair to tie his shoes.
“Atharva?” Iram’s sleepy croak rose from the nest of comfort he had just left.
“It’s early. Go back to sleep, myani zuv.”
Frowning brown eyes peeked up at him from behind the duvet. And then something magical happened. The dawn hadn’t broken blush yet but her eyebrows turned from a frown into a smile.
“Welcome back, Captain.”
He grinned. Got up. Took quiet steps back.
“I’ll be back.”
She nodded.
“Go back to sleep.”
And her eyes instantly fell shut.
