Page 236 of The Circle of Exile
“Ok.”
Atharva ended the call and set Yathaarth down on his feet. The moment he did, his son broke into a run and was out of the kitchen in a blink.
“What happened? The results have been declared?”
“You weren’t checking online?” He pushed his phone back into his pocket.
“I was tempted to check, but I wanted you to tell me,” she turned over her shoulder, her eyes hopeful.
“Myani zuv,” he warned. “This is just a stepping stone.”
“I know,” she smiled. Her full-white-teeth smile. “But you have been working very hard for two years and nobody will even acknowledge that today. I am here to appreciate it. Well done, Janab.”
He felt his facial muscles stretch.
“Dhaniwal kitna?[66]” Shiva droned.
“Dhaniwal hai, kitna bhi dalo[67],” Iram retorted.
Atharva bit back a smirk. Ever since she had been crowned the queen of their kitchen, Shiva had constantly tested her limits. It was a love-hate relationship that Atharva liked to stay away from.
“I am leaving for the HDP office, Iram. I don’t think I’ll be back for lunch. You will take Arth to phonics?”
“You are taking the car.”
“I am taking the Land Rover, the Hyundai is still here.”
She made a face.
“You have stolen my car over and over, doesn’t mean I present you the keys with my own hands.”
“If only you knew how many hands have touched those keys…” she muttered under her breath.
“Oh I know it.”
Her eyes widened.
“Speaking of, where is Daniyal?”
“Gone to meet friends.”
“Is final year of B.Com nothing but meeting friends and going for 9 am shows?”
She shrugged — “We wouldn’t know because you were sweating it out in NDA and I was a full-attendance student during those years.”
He snorted. Daniyal had been a good boy. He wouldn’t score extraordinarily, but he had not brought a single complaint home. The college had his number on file as guardian, and in the last three years, Daniyal had given them no chance to complain. His attendance was just over the required amount, his tests just over passing marks, his finals decent enough to move to the next year. Atharva had sat him down a few times to ask him what was next, but he was as ambiguous in words as he seemed in thought.
Atharva knew that conversation wouldn’t happen with his father for now. Sarah came regularly to see him. Qureshi had come once, last year, and that hadn’t gone well. The day had been awkward, lunch as well as dinner. Iram had been hard-pressed to play the generous, courteous hostess but she wasn’t as good an actor as she thought she could be. Had Daniyal picked up on her discomfort or was it his own reticence with his father talking, Atharva couldn’t say. But he had not spoken at all that day, just nodding and grunting and checking his phone. The only time he had smiled was when Maha had talked his ear off.
Qureshi hadn’t come back again, trying to send gifts and covers of money through Sarah. Not for Daniyal but for Yathaarth. Atharva had sent them all back with greetings.
His relationship with Qureshi was a two-edged sword. The man was one of the two gatekeepers of his return home. His chair there was secured by Atharva’s exile. But, his son was against him, sheltered in Atharva’s home. It was a terrific mix of mutual interests and clash of interests, which made it doubly important that Atharva nudge the second gatekeeper to open the doors. And nudge him hard.
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The HDP headquarters in Chhota Shimla was deafened by the booms of crackers. The party members were celebrating as iftheyhad won the election. Atharva walked into the President’s office, a massive space with its own round conference table that was already populated. Samar was the only one missing.
All eyes turned to him, the volume of phones and iPads running news going down. Most of them were local HDP leaders. Two of them were from Jammu, having followed Samar here. They all nodded, smiles and grins. Atharva returned their smiles.
