Page 85 of The Circle of Exile
“He was on the phone.”
She glanced at Begumjaan and decided to start. No point in waiting, especially for Safiya Begum. However fit she looked while caring for Yathaarth and her, Iram could see the exhaustion weighing her down by night. She was used to eating and going to bed by 8. In Budgam, life set with the sun and woke up with the sun. Unlike here, where it woke up with the sun but set with Atharva’s arrival home — usually post 9.
“Begumjaan,” she served her the gravy. “This is my special recipe.”
“The famous green gravy,” she sniffed, no doubt decoding the spices and the seasoning.
“He has told you also?” Iram went to Yathaarth’s cot and peeped inside. He was happily playing with the mobile over him.
“He has been badmouthing you,” Begumjaan pointed. “Time to avenge yourself, Iram.”
She grinned, an idea forming. Iram filled his plate, hurried into the kitchen, chopped up three dark green chillies and sprinkled them into his gravy. She mixed it up to hide the darker green inside the green and came back just in time for him to stride out of his office.
“On time, Janab…” she trailed as he stopped over Yathaarth’s cot too, tickled his belly, and only then came to the table. Iram set the plate in front of his chair and he did not even look at what was on it. She observed, unnerved, as he broke the paratha, scooped up the gravy and ate — “What have you all been up to today?”
Iram met Begumjaan’s eyes. She noticed it too. But she launched into conversation easily. Iram couldn't. She saw the bites go into his mouth, the chillies bring red water to his eyes. He kept eating, like nothing was wrong. He drank his given glass of water, finished the food that had been served on his plate and pushed to his feet — “I have a call to make. I am sorry.”
“Go, go,” Begumjaan gestured with her hand.
And he was gone. Just as aimlessly as he had come.
Iram glanced at Begumjaan.
Go,she mouthed.
Iram didn’t have to be told twice.
————————————————————
Knock. Knock.
No answer.
Knock again.
“Yes, Shiva?”
“It’s me.”
Pause.
She depressed the handle and pushed in, only to find that there was nothing out of the usual. He was on his chair, his laptop open, his iPad in one hand and glasses perched on his nose.
“What happened?”
“Is everything ok, Atharva?”
“Yes. I had a call.”
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
“How was the food?”
“Good, why?” He took his eyes back to his iPad.
“It wasn’t too spicy?”
“Maybe a little, but you know I like spice,” he answered.
