The sun had set. The afternoon chill had set in. Day had finally given in to her battle with Night. As she died her painful slow death, her blood slowly splattered the west horizon of the pale blue sky. Now Night would engulf the valley. He would take his sword of chill out and slaughter the last ounce of warmth left behind by Day. Theirs was a never ending battle. Each died a painful death every day but they just did not know how to stop.
What a depressing interpretation of the scientific truth. She would have said. It was amazing how she could pop up in his head even after so many years. Abdullah gave out a hollow laugh. But he knew no better. He had been fighting too long to secure his valley from the infidels. His battle seemed endless just like Day and Night. But now their effort was finally paying off. A couple of years more at most and they would be free. The Kazi had said. Though Abdullah could not really fathom how the freedom would be, he was excited at the prospect.
He would be leading a team of six men tonight to this covert mission. They were raiding an influential’s house. That man was one of the most stubborn leftovers and even had a daughter who was an unmarried mother. His blood boiled when he had heard this. Only kafirs like them could tolerate such atrocities. He had spent two hours in the morning warming his men up. They were young, not a veteran like himself. He understood if they needed more conviction. He remembered his early days only too well. He remembered how he cringed and flinched, missing the target by inches or not giving enough thrust to the knife. But time had toughened him. He knew now, that bloodshed was necessary to achieve a greater good, that everything was the almighty’s wish, that they were just puppets. As time went by, he had understood, thanks to the Kazi’s legendary patience, that the Kashmiri Pandits must leave, else they must die. Kashmir was theirs, and they would be the only community living there, free as they wished. There was no way he could let these kafirs mutilate their beautiful Kashmir. Even the administration was supporting their cause. It was clear by the way their doings were hushed up.
◊
Abdullah waited patiently till the night fell finally in the valley. Covered in rags, hidden in the dark, like the soldiers of Dark himself they descended upon the house as soon as the lights were out. They carried out their signature attack systematically, with Abdullah securing the doorway, shouting them instructions. The cold blooded slaughter of the off guard residents kicked his team to a high as they approached upstairs.
Arti crouched under the bed. She knew this refuge was only temporary but she did not know anywhere safer. This was her house, the safest place on earth. She believed as did her father that nobody would touch them because he was the wise man of the valley whom even the Muslims obeyed. So they had stayed back. Where else would they have gone? This was where they belonged. When Arti became pregnant with Anand, her mother had pleaded many times with her father to leave the valley and go some place else where nobody knew them. But her father had declined. Though her father hadn’t spoken with her in eight years, he at least let her stay in the house. She held her son close, hushing him, soothing him not to cry out loud.
Soon enough the troop burst open the bolted door. They grabbed Arti by the hair and dragged her downstairs with Anand hurling in her tow. She fought vigorously writhing and twisting in their grip. Abdullah shouted, spitting venomthrough each word, “Why are you even dragging the sinner here? Why didn’t you kill her immediately?”
But what he didn’t notice was, Arti was going very still with every word he spoke. ◊ Arti and Abdullah, Abdullah and Arti, she recited for the umpteenth time and giggled like a teenager. She was one after all. Just nineteen years old when she met Abdullah. He was the owner of one of the many houseboats that crowded the Lake. She had had a stupid bet with her friends. When she boasted of her people management skill before them, they gave her the challenge to coax any one of the houseboat owners to allow them a tour of the luxurious houseboats for free. Given the fact that the houseboat owners’ were famous for their shrewdness it was impossible.
Nevertheless Arti was not going to lose the challenge without trying. She scanned the owners for their vulnerability. Young Abdullah immediately caught her attention. He seemed new in the business. She borrowed a burqa from Salma, and approached him. She pretended a poor money-less mother of three girls who wanted to fulfill her daughters’ dream of getting inside a houseboat. So if he would be kind and considerate to let them in, she requested in her sweetest tone.
Abdullah might have been young but never inexperienced. Before him, the houseboat belonged to his father. He knew the intricacies of this business only too well. He saw through Arti’s amateur lie instantly. He glanced at the three giggly girls who stood apart. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Ameena”, Arti lied. She could not risk his father’s reputation.
“Who is your father?” he asked again. He had every intention to go to the little girl’s house and complaint about their daring deeds.
Sensing his mood, Arti told him about the bet. She told Abdullah that she was ready to pay him a hundred rupee if he helped her win the bet. It was winter, so business was not at its best. Extra bucks never hurt. So Abdullah agreed. Arti went back to her friends like a winner.
Next day when Arti went back to the houseboat a little earlier than her friends to pay Abdullah the money she had not had the burqa on. When Abdullah saw her he could not take his eyes off. Serene green eyes, porcelain skin and tender delicate lips like rose petals. Could she be worldly? He thought. Arti noticed his reaction and smiled inwardly. He was handsome too. Sharp, square jaw line and an intelligent pair of dark eyes. If he would stop wearing the frown, he would definitely come across as a charmer. She thought. They spent the time in awkward silence till her friends arrived.
That afternoon, Abdullah was the best host he could be. They stole glances as often as they could, holding each other for few seconds and then looking away. Long after the girls had left the houseboat, Abdullah was still in the reverie. He didn’t know where she stayed but he knew he had to see her. Next evening Arti came back. And there was no looking back from then on. It was as if they were twirling in a cyclone. All sense of time lost, they were inside a cocoon. The outward world did not mean anything to them. Not until Arti knew that she was pregnant.
When she returned to the houseboat that evening to share the news with Abdullah, another prospect of their lives together was lit inside her head. She had rolled and rolled their names together in her tongue and decided that she would also tell Abdullah her real name today. But Abdullah was high on whisky and told her everything about how they planned to evict all Hindus out of the valley, how the Kazi was the saint driving them towards a greater goal. Arti left quietly.
◊
Abdullah fled, he walked as fast as he could with
Anand perched on his shoulder. Anand had fought vigorously before, kicking him,
clawing him, but he had later calmed down, resigned. Abdullah would take his
son to a place where none of this would matter. He would give his son a future
he deserved. His eyes were full of hope. He held the legs of his son tightly.
Abdullah could not believe what he saw earlier. Ameena, his Ameena, stood in front of him in the house he raided. Only her name was Arti as her dying mother had called out. Clutching her knees stood a little kid, visibly shivering from fear. Even in the shadowy light the striking similarity between the kid and a younger himself was obvious to him.
Suddenly he was gripped by an overwhelming sense of loss. For something he could have but didn’t. A happy life, a complete life with Ameena or Arti and their son. His knees began to shake. The greater good, for which he wasted eight important years of his life, seemed like a joke in an instant while the other prospect that could have been a reality loomed large in his eyes. If only he had dedicated enough time to look for her instead of going to the Kazi’s meetings. If only he had spent enough time to think over the reason why she never returned, instead of finding solace in the simplest explanation – “she left me”.
Arti looked straight at Abdullah, or only a reminiscent of him. His weather-beaten face and long beard made him look much older. Her worst fear had come true tonight. Tonight her son was going to be killed by his own father. Abdullah looked from Anand to Arti and then from Arti to Anand. She said, “yes”, answering Abdullah’s unasked question. And then she was shot in the head by one of his men.
Abdullah lunged forward involuntarily to take the little child into his arms before any of his men could do him any harm. “I would take care of this child who is born out of sin”, he said to his men. Even then when they stood there unconvinced he sent them to loot the house, something which he had never let his people do.
Since then he had been walking through all the secret pathways throughout the valley. He crossed mountains after mountains, with untiring vigor. It would be many hours before those six men discovered that he was gone. There were a lot of valuable things in the house.
A little more and they would be out of Kazi’s clutch. Anand seemed to have understood because now he rested his soft cheeks on the top of his head. Occasionally a tear drop or two would fall from his eyes on his head. The dense fog started to scatter. The darkness was fading as the dawn broke at the horizon. It was the time when it was Day’s turn to win.
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