Page 175 of The Circle of Exile
“What?”
“If the order comes tomorrow, it may not give us more than three days to leave.”
“But Yathaarth’s birthday is this Sunday…”
She saw Atharva’s eyes fill with horror. Then the horror went, replaced by rage, which was slowly dead in the fumes of blankness. It hit. Now it hit. Iram felt a shiver set inside her bones.
“Where will we go?”
They weren’t alone anymore. They had a son.
“What will we take along?”
Their son was tiny but his things were many.
“How long will this last?”
Should she pack for one month’s trip or an alternate household?
Iram met his eyes. And he had no answer. Neither of them had any answer between them.
33. Musafir jaayega kahan…
Musafir jaayega kahan
Wahan kaun hai tera?
Atharva saw the tricolour lowered from the top of his house. On a warm June morning, with the sun shining bright, the house of his grandfather packing up around him, he stood beneath it as his guards pulled the string of the pole slowly. Inch by inch, gliding just as majestically as it had been hoisted, the flag was brought down. Atharva did not take his eyes off it as two of his guards stood on opposite sides, the flag stretched between them, folded lengthwise. First the orange, then the green. And then the white, folded underneath the navy Ashok Chakra.
The guard held it out on his arms and began to walk towards the storage.
“Give it to me.”
Atharva heard his command echo in the silence.
“Government property is supposed to be stored until further notice, sir,” Zafarji informed him.
“This is not government property. This is my father’s flag.”
The guard took an about turn and marched towards him. Atharva held his arms out. The wind of Kashmir swayed. It filled his chest. He ought to feel something. Anything. Rage, loss, sorrow. Nothing. He had cycled through them all in the last three days. Now, at the hour of departure, he was left with nothing.
The silky material of his father’s flag touched his forearms. His palms cupped to hold it still. His fingers shook. Not feeling anything, his body shook.
“Where is Iram?” He asked out loud, hoping to hold his body still with that firm bellow.
“She is upstairs, packing,” Shiva answered, scuttling down from the house behind him, one metallic trunk in hand. He went straight for his Land Rover.
“Where are you going?”
“To put my bag.”
“Shiva,” Atharva called him. He stopped, face turned over his shoulder.
“I have spoken to Samar. You will go back to work for the Boulevard Road headquarters. Same salary, same perks…”
“But I am coming with you.”
“We won’t need you there.”
