The Honest Season

by Kota Neelima

  ‘The tapes had to be stopped at any cost,’ Nalan explained afresh, ‘and we all knew that you were the only link to Sikander. I got familiar with you in the hope that you would betray him at some point, but you didn’t. So, I planned that attack on you to frame Sikander and forced him to emerge from hiding.’ She tried to push him away again, and he held her hands to his chest. ‘Now, there is really no need to protest! I thought you did great. We believed you would be the weakest link, but you turned out to be the strongest.’ He added furious, ‘Stronger than even me!’

  Then he left her and walked away to the desk. Picking up the papers, he pondered, ‘I should call back the guys and finish this report.’

  Mira held her breath and struggled to remain standing. Nalan’s admission of guilt was exactly what she had wanted to hear, but it was not the truth. The anguish behind his words now filled her, adding to her pain, and made her wounds ache. She watched him lean against the desk and revise the report.

  ‘Try again,’ she whispered, and he glanced at her, questioning.

  ‘The story,’ she challenged him, her voice low. ‘Try once more.’

  Nalan was surprised. ‘Somehow I pictured this scene with you crying and begging me not to tell the truth.’ He chuckled. ‘You would plead that you had never known such happiness and wouldn’t throw it all away because of what I had done. I would insist that truth was the most important thing, and you would argue that, no, it was love. I would naturally be convinced.’

  ‘Naturally,’ she sympathized. ‘Please answer a few questions, Nalan. I can’t stand this for long.’

  ‘Good to know that.’ He angrily dropped the papers on the desk again. ‘Ask your questions.’

  ‘Why did it have to be you? You have a political career to lose. Besides, any one of the watchers would have loved to hurt me.’ She paused as her voice shook. Then said, ‘Or couldn’t you resist it?’

  Nalan smiled patiently. ‘They were desperate to hurt you, but I forced them to leave it to me.’

  ‘Because you knew I would fall for your caring words?’ she charged him. ‘Because you discovered I was an orphan?’

  His brown eyes were offended. ‘Because I knew what they would do to you,’ he told her sternly, ‘that’s why I got involved. They were confident that if you were interrogated long enough, you would reveal where Sikander was. I convinced them that if Sikander found out you were being targeted, he would not contact you again and would vanish.’ He seriously regarded her, ‘I knew that was a chance they couldn’t take. They needed to stop the tapes badly. And so, they listened to me.’

  ‘And they kept listening to you?’ Mira marvelled. ‘How did you manage that?

  ‘With difficulty,’ he retorted. ‘They watched us all the time, as I told you once. Every day I failed to find the answers from you, I was a step closer to losing control of the situation. These were not men and women I could displease, I have to survive them daily in Delhi. But they have to survive me as well. That’s how I bought more time for you.’

  Mira winced in pain and leaned her head back to the window. ‘So that attack outside the café was not a warning for me,’ she realized. ‘It was, in fact, a warning for you.’

  He nodded. ‘They knew by then that I cared for you and . . .’

  Livid, Nalan stopped speaking, as she chuckled, entertained. ‘But please don’t get me wrong!’ he said sarcastically. ‘I did want you dead.’

  Mira verified with his thoughts that were anything but sarcastic.

  ‘To begin with,’ he continued, his voice strained, ‘I thought you would appreciate it, having chased death all your life. I wanted to change your mind, wanted you to never think of dying again.’ He paused, ruffled. ‘So, although I wanted to give you hope, make you love life, I also wanted you dead!’

  Mira stared at him, lost.

  ‘Secondly, I did recall the knife in the clue when I came to ask you about Sikander,’ he spoke bluntly. ‘But somehow, I only remember the henna in your palms and my desperate struggle not to let you know how I felt about you. It wouldn’t have been fair to you. The wreckage of my broken marriage was still strewn around.’ He added with emphasis, ‘So, although I couldn’t break your heart with my story, I thought you should be dead instead.’

  ‘Nalan, please . . .!’ Mira protested, but he interrupted her.

  ‘Thirdly, the clues of Sikander felt like threats to me,’ he told her. ‘I studied them closely to know his final intentions. That’s how I discovered that you were an orphan. I was deeply concerned that you were all alone,’ he said, his voice forlorn. ‘Sikander clearly cared for you, but thought of death as the end to your search. That constantly worried me and made me meet you often, even when you didn’t want me to.’ He added indignantly, ‘And although I wanted to protect you, I also wanted you dead!’

  She uneasily turned away from him.

  ‘But most of all, I wanted you dead for myself’, he confided. ‘I can’t think of my day without you, without hearing your voice. I love waiting for you, leaving you, finding you. I’m done with everything, I want nothing without you.’

  Mira met his angry, confessing eyes, as his unsaid thoughts stifled her mind.

  ‘Next question,’ Nalan said punishingly.

  It took her time to speak again. ‘What did you say to Sikander when he called you that morning of the attack?’

  ‘He mentioned you were on your way home,’ Nalan replied, ‘and I told him that it was irresponsible of him to have let you leave the lane. The watchers had already informed me that you were missing, and they waited for your return. Sikander knew you would be hurt to teach him a lesson for the tapes, and I knew you would be hurt to teach me a lesson for protecting you. We couldn’t stop the attack, but we managed to negotiate a delay.’ He spoke somberly. ‘I managed to get the assailant report to us. Those were the two calls you heard. Sikander, as he tried to delay the beginning, and I, as I tried to delay the end so that you could be rescued.’

  Mira heard him in silence.

  He continued absently, ‘One of the terms agreed for that negotiation was the manner of Sikander’s surrender. He requested for me just like the others wanted, so that we could access all the evidence he had. And he ensured through his father that I headed the internal party investigation, which helped to diffuse the immediate crisis . . .’ He saw her wince in pain again. ‘You should lie down, Mira. We can talk later.’

  Mira nodded and tried to take a few steps. But the pain tore her apart, and she fell to her knees, holding tight to the bandages. Nalan hurried her to the bed in the next room. She buried her face in the pillow, battling to breathe as the wounds hurt and bled.

  ‘You have the fever again,’ Nalan said, troubled.

  Mira sensed his thoughts were clear, as always, when he focused on her. ‘No need to call the doctors,’ she whispered. ‘They’ll only blame me for being suicidal.’

  ‘They would be right,’ he informed her harshly. ‘You didn’t have to interrogate me so soon after Sikander. And I can only imagine how that meeting must have gone!’

  ‘It went well,’ she answered unsteadily. ‘He was in more pain at the end than I was.’

  ‘As I will be at the end of this talk,’ he predicted.

  When she finally turned, he demanded, tersely, ‘Why did you return home that morning from the lane, Mira? You must have known you were going to your death.’

  ‘That felt a better option than trusting you or Sikander,’ she told him. ‘Besides, I told you the first time we met, death is the best part of life.’

  He shook his head, repentant. ‘Please tell me, Mira. What can I do?’

  ‘The same that I asked Sikander to do,’ she answered weakly.

  ‘Then I’m sure to do it better than him,’ he smiled. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Give an interview to the media and speak about the attempts to prevent the publication of the Parliament tapes, the efforts to protect people named in the tapes and how the tapes impacted you. Finally, yo
u can say a few words about who were behind the attempt on my life.’ Mira paused, as she discerned his thoughts. ‘I sense reluctance.’

  ‘I wonder why,’ he said scathingly. ‘This could merely be the end of my political career.’

  ‘That’s wishful thinking,’ she dismissed it. ‘Give an interview together with Sikander, so that there is no scope for escapes or excuses.’

  ‘Only if you conduct such an interview.’

  ‘Who else would know if you lied?’ she asked wearily.

  ‘It’s traditional to go to the police,’ he pointed out, ‘so that they can blackmail me and Sikander for the rest of our tenures in politics.’

  ‘If you prefer that, sure.’ She smiled, exhausted. Then remembered, ‘Why are you meeting him tonight?’

  ‘It’s nothing, really . . .’ he fell silent abruptly, then told the truth. ‘I called him when I got to know you returned to the hospital after meeting him. I was furious that you were hurt again and said I had several scores to settle with him.’ He added quietly, ‘He agreed to meet me to sort it out.’

  ‘So even this is leverage for you?’

  ‘And a negotiation for him.’

  She remained silent to gather her strength. Then said, ‘To answer the question you didn’t ask—yes, I can go to the police against you.’

  ‘But how can you, Mira?’ he was astonished. ‘How can you forget about us? Does love mean nothing to you?’

  ‘Love is for birds and garden benches,’ she whispered. ‘You think of it beautifully, with colours I have never known before, like looking through a magical glass at a new world. But it also shatters to pieces when I want it to be true.’

  ‘Then try looking at it through my eyes,’ he suggested.

  She was too fatigued to answer. Worried, he checked the wounds, and as he moved her hand away from the bandages, he found the blood on her shirt. Shocked, Nalan reached for his cell phone to call the doctors. She could sense the panic in his thoughts, much like the frenzy in Sikander’s when he saw her bleed.

  ‘What if you don’t get any help?’ she wondered, and he glanced at her, startled. ‘No one will ever know you let me die here today.’

  Nalan couldn’t speak; he knew what she meant.

  ‘Just once more, Nalan,’ she entreated him. ‘Kill me once again.’

  He was shattered by her request. Then he managed to smile. ‘There may be no need for that, Mira,’ he finally said. ‘You have an interview to conduct. And I’ll probably have to kill myself after that!’

  Twenty-Four

  Nalan, of course, didn’t kill himself, although at the time of the interview it seemed very possible that he might. The interview itself had been the biggest news event of the year. So big that even Munshi didn’t know how to handle the publicity it gathered. The rivalry between Nalan and Sikander was well known in politics but not so much among the public. They could just see the man who made the Parliament tapes, and the man who featured on them. For the sheer drama of it, many television channels tried to lure Munshi into a telecast deal, but without success. Everyone also knew, however, that the interview was made possible not because of Munshi, but because of Mira. So, they tried tracking down Mira, and some journalists even managed to get her well-guarded address. But they didn’t get to meet her because she was mostly either resting, recovering from the injuries, or at the hospital.

  Over a month after the attack on her, Mira interviewed Sikander and Nalan at her office in one of the third floor conference rooms; also present were Salat, Bhaskar and an assistant who handled the recording. There were a few structured questions, but the interview was open ended and guided by what she could detect from their thoughts. Munshi’s instructions were to allow only photographers from other newspapers to be present and, that too, only for a few minutes before the interview began. These were the first photos of the two men together, and have since been used extensively with stories on Parliament tapes or political corruption. Their photographs, however, were not the only things that had become instant legends about the interview. Many of their answers were explosive in their honesty. Like, for example, when Mira asked Sikander about his motives for making the tapes. He was impeccable that day—dressed in a dark suit, blue shirt and brown tie—except when he answered that question, ‘You know why, Mira.’ He had said grimly, ‘I gave people what they wanted. After all, that’s politics.’ In the months before the elections, the Opposition National Party ran an entire campaign against PP government titled ‘That’s Politics’ and highlighted its double standards.

  Many of their answers were also candid about other leaders. For instance, when Mira asked Nalan about who wanted him to bury the Parliament tapes, his answer included names of some of the top brass of political parties in the country. Nalan had added, towards the end of his answer, ‘As you know I didn’t do everything they asked me to do.’ He smiled at her. ‘We wouldn’t have been here if I had.’ Critics decried this as a display of the ‘blatant disregard’ for ethics in the younger generation of politicians and called Nalan a symptom of the ‘malaise that afflicts our society.’

  He was far from being a symptom, however, when defending himself on the division of the state. ‘Corporate interests had to be addressed. Every politician who wanted to get re-elected with corporate money wanted the division. Don’t ask me why, I do not contest elections.’

  Sikander as an elected MP had to counter. ‘It’s good that you don’t contest elections. But if you did, you would discover that the affection and respect of the people is enough to win elections. You don’t need corporate money.’ Then he considered Mira for a moment and retracted, ‘All right, that’s nonsense!’

  There were times that day when the third-floor conference room had appeared too small for the two of them, as neither gave the other an inch. Nalan wore his usual white shirt with dark jacket, along with an unusually patient smile. Sikander was polite as if his life depended on it, until Mira asked them about the attack on her.

  ‘If Sikander had the courage to stay and not disappear during the publication of the tapes,’ Nalan reflected calmly, ‘you wouldn’t have been hurt.’

  ‘And if Mr Malik had the courage to wait until I emerged from hiding,’ Sikander remarked politely, ‘there would have been no need to hurt you.’

  Mira touched her forehead, tired. ‘Once again,’ she said tolerantly, ‘why was I attacked?’

  Grateful that her question didn’t point fingers at them, they spoke about the various people behind the attack, including the men employed by the Opposition parties, business houses and government agencies that were named in the tapes. They both ended up assuring her that without their intervention, she would have been dead. Mira managed not to analyse that assurance and moved on to the question of reforms.

  Sikander’s ideas, widely quoted later, were clear and practical. ‘We need to make Parliament more accessible to discover the pressures that play on policy and decisions of the government. People must know why members of Parliament vote in favour or against, participate or abstain, debate or protest in the House and why they are bound by party whips. This is not mere procedure; it is the practice of democracy, and people should know how it works.’ He asserted, ‘We will never cure corruption in our society as long as it thrives behind closed doors in the highest sanctuary of our democracy.’

  Nalan’s solutions were impractical but revolutionary and now part of the party’s reforms resolution. ‘We need to take Parliament to the people to expose motives. Every debate in the House should be conducted from the constituencies of MPs and must include selected constituents,’ he envisaged. ‘This is the best way we can minimize the influence of vested interests on policy and legislation in both Houses.’

  Sikander had also noted that the mere telecast of House proceedings wasn’t enough. It should be interactive where every MP could answer questions directly from his or her constituents. Nalan, however, had felt that none of the reforms would really work unless the information about fundin
g of political parties was open and accessible to all. To encourage such transparency, he recommended that political donations should be given incentives like tax exemptions. Both felt the gates of Parliament were unfairly shut to common people and sought free access for citizens to reach their lawmakers.

  After a few more questions, Mira called for a break to cross-check the answers. Then, registering their thoughts, she glanced inquiringly at Sikander and Nalan. They sat across the conference table with four tape recorders before them. Salat was at her side and Bhaskar was at one end of the table.

  ‘This is no time to go off the record,’ she said, in response to their thoughts.

  ‘I just want to say something to you, Mira,’ Sikander mentioned in a tightly controlled voice.

  ‘So do I,’ Nalan said, his brown eyes infuriated.

  Mira nodded to the assistant, and he switched off the tape-recorders.

  ‘I deeply resent, not to mention condemn, the manner in which Mr Malik mislead you about his methods and motives.’ Sikander was emphatic, ‘I may not be able to say this publicly, but it was behaviour not befitting a gentleman. I wish you remember that and extend Mr Malik no concession for his kindness or his affection for you. He is neither kind nor affectionate to anyone. I want you to promise me you will bear that in mind at all times.’

  Mira uneasily glanced around the room and met Bhaskar’s amused eyes.

  ‘And I wanted you, Mira,’ Nalan insisted, ‘to never forget Sikander’s cowardice, the way he left you alone to face all the repercussions of what he had done. Unlike him, I don’t resent or condemn him, but I find him most devious in his actions. So he may try his best to act different, but whenever you are inclined to think well of him, just recall his past. Promise me you won’t forget that.’

  Salat checked his notes to hide a smile.

  She studied them seriously. ‘You neglect to mention that both of you do politics for self-interest but disguise it in the name of the people. You are manipulative and dishonest, and you almost got me killed. Please believe that I wish to have nothing to do with either of you. So stop wasting my time, and continue with the interview.’