Page 68 of The Circle of Exile
“Hmm?”
“Atharva Bhai asked me not to ask you but…”
Iram rose to her feet with Yathaarth’s nightdress and a change from last night. These clothes felt so tiny, so precious in her hands. But she held back on savouring their feel and stared instead at Ada — “You can ask me.”
She bit her lip — “Mirza also wouldn’t tell me anything. They both kept me in the dark… but… did you find somebody there?”
Iram could read it. Plain and simple. Skepticism. Jealousy. Fear.
“There is one sister and one brother.”
“Oh.”
“Both strangers.”
Ada looked at her with disbelieving, accusing eyes.
“I am not going back to them. I am here, with you. Ok?”
The look lessened but did not go away.
“I am here, Ada. I am yours. Ok?”
A beat. Then she nodded. She trudged to the bed and changed the song on her phone, trying to act nonchalant.
“Provided somebody remains here,” Iram remarked pointedly, shifting gears on the mood of the room. “Instead of running off to Ahmedabad.”
“One more year,” Ada remarked to Yathaarth, singing along, grabbing his hands and making them dance along. “Jiya bekarar hai, chaayi bahar hai… aaja more baalma tera intezar hai!”
“Why are you playing old songs to him?”
“That’s been our ritual ever since he came home. He does not like nursery rhymes. He likes all grandfather songs… I have a whole playlist, see?” She held her phone up. “He even smiled first time to some old song. I can’t remember the name. Atharva Bhai does…”
Iram grinned. Her baby boy. Her grandfather-playlist-loving boy. He had enjoyed every beat of that playlist in her womb. No surprises there. Iram bent down and booped his nose with her. His mouth opened by reflex. She preened, then leaned down and did it again. His gurgle was loud, his palms flailing to catch her face. She held steady, letting him get her. His palms smacked on her cheeks for two tries and finally stuck. She set hers atop his and booped his nose with hers again, rubbing it to the beats of the newest song.Woh chaand khila woh taare hase…
Her eyes caught on a soft toy on the nightstand. Two unicorns joined at the rainbow tails. Suddenly her chest began to roar. Bad thoughts. Bad feeling. Nothing felt right inside. She tried to push it away. Tried to pull herself out of it. Didn’t work.
Yathaarth’s hands fell away from under hers and she stared down into his eyes. They were still smiling — dark grey almonds. She smiled, continued to smile at him, feeling like she was disconnecting from herself. Like she was evaporating again.Hold me, somebody hold me.She tickled the space under his chin, hoping for his chortles to bring her back.
“Oh, good you are here, Iram,” Begumjaan’s voice found her. “It’s his milk time. I gave him a bottle early this morning but do you want to breastfeed now?”
“Yes,” she answered on autopilot, shifting on the bed.
“Ada, go get some breakfast for Di,” Begumjaan relayed. “Eat while feeding him.”
“I am not hungry,” Iram began to massage her chest, feeling the fullness begin to burst. Begumjaan lifted Yathaarth and brought him to her — “Hunger is not an option, Iram. If you feed, you have to eat. Here.”
Iram unbuttoned her kurti and accepted her son, this time better equipped to hold him, push his head to her breast, latch him. Also better prepared. But as he began to slowly suckle, her thoughts were still stuck there. In the bad. She prayed herself to come out of them, to look at this blessing in her arms. Ada came with a plate of some food and began to feed it into her mouth. She chewed, unable to recognise what it was, beseeching herself to come out for her, for Begumjaan, who was folding tiny clothes of her son.
Iram couldn’t.
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“Call Amaal for me,” Atharva ordered Zafarji as soon as he stepped on the CMO floor.
“How was your railway inauguration?” Amaal asked, smiling, walking alongside him as if materialised from thin air. He kept his expression schooled until his staff, secretaries and security fell away and only he stepped inside his office. Amaal followed.
“Close the door.”
