Page 29 of The Circle of Exile
“Sir,” Altaf brought his menacing presence and voice closer. “We need to leave for the hotel. Your son is ill.”
Atharva nodded apologetically at the Imam — “Maaf kijiyega, Imam sahab, mujhe jaana padega. Main waapis zaroor aaoonga.[34]”
The man was left flabbergasted, his head nodding vigorously.
Atharva felt his socked feet leave the cold marble of the mosque and step out on the warm sunned threshold. He stepped down, eyes panning the market, the roofs, the trees in the distance. The buzz of the locals was loud, the market alive with chants of dry fruit vendors and lace sellers. He wasn’t known in this part of the world, and yet Atharva felt curious eyes sizing him up as he slipped his feet into his shoes and bent down to tie the laces. Altaf was by his side, one finger on his earpiece.
“The cars have been sent to the back of the mosque,” Altaf murmured in his ear as he straightened. “They have been called back.”
“Quick,” he muttered under his breath.
“Allah haafiz, Kaul sahab,” the Imam’s light voice made him stop.
Atharva turned to let him pass, nodding at the man’s salaam. He pointed to the intricately carved blue names in Devanagari and Urdu on the white marble of the door’s arc. Atharva followed his finger, took a moment to absorb the few names before his heart stopped.
There was something about the woman staring at him from across the hilly road. He felt it in his peripheral vision. She stood beside a chestnut seller, her head covered in a dupatta, eyes half-hooded under the mild rays of the sun. He turned, and saw into his wife’s eyes. She saw into his. His throat constricted and his legs shook. Atharva started walking in her direction and she into his. His gaze didn’t leave her. Altaf began to whisper words in his earpiece behind him. Atharva didn’t listen. Nothing worked inside him except his legs, his feet, his arms — all taking him in the direction of Iram. She broke into a run too, and he ran faster. They were crossing people and spaces and yet the distance between them felt like a life of forever.
That distance just extended for a few more lifetimes when a loud shattering sound went off behind him. He froze, because she froze, her eyes wide at the spot behind him. Atharva turned, and the spot he had stood at outside the mosque had gone up in smoke and flames. Atharva turned to her. The market exploded in chaos. She was looking at him, her face not clear in the plumes of smoke that suddenly engulfed the space.
A missile came and blew up the place where he stood in the middle of the market, but he didn’t realize that he had been bubbled into a human shield and pushed. His eyes only remained on Iram, getting fainter and fainter as distance and smoke kept getting thicker and thicker. Until that second, he didn’t realize that he was being physically restrained by two of his bodyguards and was fighting like a madman to get away. That a wall of men stood in front of him. He didn’t realize until the buzzing from the bomb died down in his ears that he was shouting her name, screaming, wailing. But she wasn’t in his sight anymore. People, distance, smoke had separated them.
6. Iram searched for him…
Iram searched for him. She kept running towards him. But the smoke between them was too heavy. It was blinding. Her eyes watered, her breath didn’t come. She pushed them out of her stomach, screaming his name with them. Another scream deafened her. A child’s scream.Gul.
Iram turned around and pushed up the hill, floundering, her hands out, trying to seek her.
“Gul! Gul!” She screamed — one more scream among many.
Nothing.
“Gul!” She reached the stall of chestnuts and a tiny tug on her pheran caught her attention.
“Khaaalaaa!”
“Gul?” Iram ran around the chestnut stall. And there she was, huddled under the abandoned stall, hands fisted, eyes half-closed, half on her, head bent. She bent to retrieve her but got shoved facedown instead. Iram staggered, breaking her fall with her hands on the ground, quickly slipping in with Gul to escape the trampling.
“Khala, khala,” Gul cried, scrunching her pheran and pushing her head into her chest. Iram embraced her to herself, turning her away from the heat of the primus burning over the stall. She rubbed Gul’s back, keeping an eye out for rushing footsteps. People were tumbling over each other, running into and over each other. She couldn’t see clear space between legs.
“Khala…”
“Shh. It’s ok.” Iram kept rubbing her back, not able to hear her own voice through the screams. People fell, and the heat over her back kept rising, getting unbearable even on this cold afternoon. She had to get out. If this cart tumbled or if the kerosene lit to life…
Khala… Ammi… Ammiii!Gul’s cries vibrated in her chest. Iram couldn’t hear them. Her ears were ringing, like they had on many such occasions.
Then she saw footsteps thin away. An opening winked at her. From between legs and shoes, she could see a patch of clear road. She put Gul’s head down and pushed her own out to check. The smoke wasn’t as heavy. Clean air. She pushed her hand out and shoved, trying to create a gully between running legs, then pushed her chest out. A hard elbow knocked the side of her head and sharp pain shot up her eyes. They watered, and her vision blurred. A steely taste invaded her mouth. Iram tried to breathe through it, tried to keep her upper body out to make more space. A hand caught her bicep and then she was being hauled up, the world whirring.
She was whirled from between running bodies, and came face to face with Atharva.
Her mouth opened. No breath came. A sob rose. But did not erupt. A gasp was ready. Did not push out. The first syllable of his name on her open mouth — stuck. He pushed his body between her and the crowd, forcing her away from the stall. And reflex kicked in. She began to flow with him, bogie to engine. But someone was left behind.
“Gul!” She screamed, bodily hauling back. He pulled her but she clawed at his hand, pushing away and under the stall. “Gul!”
Before he could tug her again, she pulled Gul out, her body curving to safeguard the space. Iram turned and recoiled at his horror. There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation though before he reached down and lifted Gul into his arm, his hand reaching for hers. This time when he pulled, Iram went without thought.
They cut through people and smoke, running downhill. He made way for her and she kept his back from being pummelled, her fingers locked around his hand. The road was slippery, the people coming from both sides. His hand tightened around hers, the back of his head constantly turning to seek her. She tightened her hand and squeezed even harder. It would have to be cut off at the wrist to separate her from him. A loud crash echoed and she found her hand pushed out of his. Iram floundered but he shoved her away and turned in time as a beam fell between them. A burning beam.
“Atharva!” She began to run to him but he jumped over the beam and took her hand again. This time he pulled her under his free arm and pushed her face into his side, leading their pace. She matched his steps, panting, not looking anywhere but at the road under their feet, anchoring her fingers in his shirt and nowhere else. People pushed her into him and she was shoved away from him. But he kept her tight in his side. And she held onto him, death holding onto the only hope of heaven.
