Page 190 of The Circle of Exile
Suno sajna papihe ne…
“Khhhwhkkskkks,” he mock-snored.
“Eighteen minutes now.”
Atharva saw in the rearview — a mouse of a man jump under the covers. He smirked.
Suno sajna papihe ne… kaha sabse pukaar ke…
He smiled, driving up the winding road of drizzly hills. His coat was buttoned and yet the damp had found its way in. Monsoon in these hills had a way of being both everywhere and nowhere at once — a film on the windscreen, a chill in the bones, the muffled hiss of tires on wet tarmac. For the first time since he had come here, Atharva did not detest the rains. The morning was draped in mist, deodars and pines were dark green sentries canopying the way, apple orchards, tin-roofed villages and prayer flags burst into his eyes every now and then.
Noora’s twenty minutes turned into hours. Atharva did not mind. He was feeling more alive than he had in months. The remote valleys, the bends and the curves, the emerald trees tunnelling out into rust-shaded mountains — and the promise ofdoingafter a long time. He hadn’t felt more wired than he did in the ten hours of that drive.
————————————————————
Atharva turned into the village of quaint homes at the crack of noon. The flat roofs over homes were tamped down with green stones and sheets, looking like an extension of each other. The only structure rising out of them all was the village gompa, at the very edge of the settlement. It was made of grand sandstone, but embellished with nothing except colourful prayer flags strung together.
He parked the car in the village square. Noora was pretending to sleep in the backseat.
Atharva reached behind, found his leg twitch, but just grabbed the folder of papers he had brought along and exited the car. He shut the door with a thud and pressed the lock button.
“Eh! Big Brother!” Noora’s banging shook the window behind him. Atharva glanced from left to right, the village square deserted save for a stray dog and a few pedestrians looking curiously at him. Their eyes went from him to Noora’s antics behind him and Atharva begrudgingly unlocked the car. He did want publicity but not the comic kind.
“I will not talk to you,” Noora informed softly in his ear before jumping out of the car and stomping towards the only place in the square that did not look like a shop or a house. The HDP office.
Himachal Development Party
Chitkul, Distr. Kinnaur
Atharva followed Noora, smiling at the old woman who was staring at him without blinking. Her stare wobbled, but she smiled back, shying away and turning towards the lane leading away from the square. A trio of men was carrying a load on a wheelbarrow, eyes on him. Atharva nodded. Two of them nodded back.
The sky behind them was a pristine cobalt blue — clear, with thick white clouds. The mountains weren’t barren unlike the road here but rich with deciduous trees. Even the village smelled lush and pure and green, wet too, thanks to the stream that flowed behind it. Iram would have loved it here. Yathaarth would have stared at all this nature and eaten three meals without fuss. Atharva grabbed his phone, snapped a photo and texted Iram.
ATHARVA
Reached Chitkul
IRAM
Shiva misses Noora
And Junior Janab misses you
He smiled to himself, thinking about taking them to his next recruitment drive. Provided, it was in a safer zone. This one was a high-risk zone not only for its altitude, air pressure and connectivity but also because of its proximity to the India-Tibet border. The last village of India.
Samar had sent him the itinerary for Spiti-Lahaul, which started from Chitkul in Kinnaur. This was the village that, if captured, would prove strategic. Because any ruling government at the Centre would vie it for itself.
Atharva tucked the padded folder of membership drive and panchayat election strategy under his arm and walked into the HDP office. Empty. Save for Noora and one other man sitting side by side on a table, dipping Parle-G biscuits into a cup of tea.
“So, you work full 12 hours?” Noora asked, biting into the non-soggy part of his biscuit.
The man popped his biscuit whole into his mouth — “Sometimes.”
“Smart man,” Noora grinned, dipping the soggy part again into the tea and cramming it whole into his mouth. ‘Does everyone here work like you?”
“There is just me and Tsering.”
“Who is Tsering?” Noora chewed, catching his eye. Atharva stood unmoved, seeing this play out.
