by Rohit Gaur
Still, doubts lingered in his mind. He had just resolved to ask Vishal to give him a few more days before introducing the legislation when the door to the conference opened. A security agent stepped in and nodded.
“Chief minister? I’ve been asked to inform you that reports have reached us that militants were sighted this morning on the road north of Srinagar, six or seven of them. We are not sure what direction they might have headed, but we will need to take extra security precautions when you visit the festival this evening.”
“Do you think they’re using the festival as cover to enter the city?”
“That’s our guess. We’ve dispatched another corps of guards down to the festival to keep an eye out for them.”
“Can you be sure to put Jay and Tejinder on alert as well? My wife and sons are down there.”
“Of course, sir.”
The agent stepped out and Arjun turned back to the window. Every day it seemed a report came in warning of militants on the move. The people living along the roads to the north were nervous, he knew, but he couldn’t help but also wonder about the recent spate of violence. They wouldn’t attack the festival, would they? he thought. Could the militants be getting more aggressive? More daring? Or were they simply trying to smuggle supplies out of the city back to their strongholds in the mountains? Feeling the weight of these questions, Arjun sank into one of the plush chairs of the conference room. Perhaps they’re right after all. Maybe the wall is our best chance to preserve our peace. Arjun stared gloomily out at the lengthening shadows along the city buildings and sidewalks, mind unsettled and ill at ease.
Off to the west, on an infrequently traveled stretch of highway, two trucks pulled far off into the bushes and made sure to come to a stop in a place not visible from the road. Seven men climbed out of the trucks, dressed in brown khaki fatigues and camouflage jackets. After double-checking their weapons and supplies, they crept deeper into the woods, pausing to check their map every few hundred yards. Soon, they found what they sought: a twelve-foot iron fence topped with barbed wire. Even more cautious now, they tacked an arc due south, following the curve of the fence but keeping their distance from it. Within a few minutes, a gate appeared in the fence, manned by two security guards and a video camera. Without a sound, each of the men took up a spot on the ground, sitting cross-legged and leaning against a tree.
Now, they waited.
Chapter 3
SEPARATION
By the time the concert was finished and Tarun and his family had eaten dinner, the sun had set and the stars shimmered brightly on the water. The Ganesha murtis would soon be thrown into the river as fireworks filled the night sky with colorful light. This was Tarun’s favorite part of the festival: everyone standing along the banks, calling out prayers and joyful shouts as the statues splashed into the water, drifting downstream to unknown destinations. It was exciting and peaceful all at the same time. In the hush of twilight, people were gradually congregating on the riverbank in small clusters, readying themselves and their Ganeshas. Lanterns had been strung up along the path and some of the windows of the buildings that lined the river glowed with light, but down by the river it was darker, the distant lights flickering across the faces of person and statue alike.
“Where is he?” Tarun overheard Parvati speaking in hushed tones to Tejinder. He knew what was causing that worried tone: Arjun was supposed to attend the concert but had called at the last minute to apologize and explain that work would prevent him from making it on time. Urgent meeting, last-minute preparations, promise to be there soon—it was a common enough refrain in a political household. Tarun could hear Tejinder promising to check again before walking away. Parvati sighed and frowned, checking her watch. Then she caught Tarun and Kumar looking at her and switched her smile back on.
“Boys, let’s get ready for the drop. Fireworks soon, remember!”
They trooped down from the path to where the water met the land. On a small stool sat the lavender Ganesha they would soon heave into the swiftly flowing river. Looking at it again up close, Tarun was reminded of his dream and the gravelly voice that had emerged from the darkness. The light glinted off of the Ganesha’s embellishments: whoever had made the clay statue had spent a great deal of time painting on bits of gold to the face, arms, and legs. Tarun looked closely at the figure’s eyes. Small, black, unwavering, they showed no signs of movement, no hints at conspiracy. Stop it, Tarun, he told himself, it was just a dream. But in the half-light, the shadows playing across the elephant face, it was almost believable that the statue would pick itself up and walk off the table.
Out of the darkness a noise: “Raaawr!” Tarun yelped and jumped back, hands up and waving to fend off the sound. A moment later, he heard laughter. Kumar, again, wanting to humiliate him. Unfortunately, it had worked. He had been concentrating so hard on the Ganesha statue that he had shouted louder than he meant to when Kumar jumped out and screamed. Embarrassed but not wanting to show it, Tarun lunged at Kumar, intending to push him off balance in the mud. Kumar was ready for it, though, and simply pushed him back. Unsteady from the scare, Tarun tripped and fell backward onto the soft dirt of the riverbank. Chuckling to himself, Kumar slipped off as Tarun struggled back to his feet. He wanted to run after Kumar, to give him what he deserved, but he knew it wouldn’t work. Even without Parvati or Jay or Tejinder watching, Kumar was bigger and stronger. He would have to wait to get Kumar back.
Vishal was on the phone with one of the construction contractors they often used for government projects; two others were on with congressional staffers and national security experts. After an afternoon of debate, it had been decided: legislation for the wall would be announced the following day, so last-minute negotiations were taking place on the wording of the bill, how it would be funded. Arjun had hoped these discussions could be delayed but Vishal had convinced his council that delay would be politically dangerous. Now that Arjun had floated the idea of a wall to the media, any postponement of its construction would be criticized if an another attack occurred. Why isn’t the government prioritizing Kashmiri security? Vishal had imagined the newspapers asking. Why do they care more about the militants and their allies than the innocent people of Srinagar? So the bill would be proposed tomorrow and construction would begin shortly thereafter. A long evening lay ahead: Arjun wasn’t sure he would even be able to make it to the festival to participate in the release of the murtis. He hated the thought of Parvati and the boys doing it without him, but they would understand. They had to.
“I need to know that the chief minister can count on your support.” Listening to one of the deputy chiefs talk on the phone to a legislative assistant, Arjun thought about his own days as a young politician, how idealistic he had been. In those days he had truly believed that the conflict in Kashmir could be solved by peace conferences and disarmament treaties. Twenty years of endless skirmishing between two nuclear nations later with no solution in sight, that idea seemed naïve. Building a wall across the country would have been abhorrent to his younger self, Arjun thought ruefully. He wouldn’t have stood for it. I wonder what happened to my convictions? My principles? he thought. I used to believe in the good in people, even my enemies. How had it come to this? He put the ball of his hand in his eyes and tried to push away these thoughts.
“Sir?” Vishal was holding the phone to his chest and looking at him expectantly. “The chief contractor is on board, but he’d like to speak with you. He wants your full assurance that you are committed to the plan before he agrees to take on the project.”
Arjun arranged himself, clearing his throat and loosening his tie. He took the phone from Vishal, put it to his ear, and began to speak.
“Mr. Mohamed, I’m delighted to hear that you’re willing to join us in this historic task. I am fully behind the construction of this goal and eager to see its construction begin soon.”
The families gathered along the river were waiting expectantly. Any minute now, the fireworks show would begin
and immediately afterwards the murtis would be tipped into the water. Although the atmosphere was joyful, the warm night air filled with the sounds of idle chatting and children playing, Parvati was obviously annoyed. Checking her watch for the fourth time in ten minutes, she looked grieved at her husband’s absence. Normally, he would be here to shake hands with supporters, say a few words to the crowd, and ceremonially push the button that began the fireworks show. But if the crowd was disappointed that Chief Minister Arjun Sharma was not present, no one really seemed to show it.
Tarun himself did not mind that his father had been forced to work late. When his father was around, security got tighter and Tarun’s freedom to walk around as he pleased was diminished. With his father gone, he could wander more or less at will and even try to pass as a boy from a regular family. A better family, he thought. Not that his family was especially bad—his mom was alright, he guessed. His dad had his moments, even though being the son of a politician meant a life of surveillance and overly watchful parents. He definitely wouldn’t miss Kumar, though. He would happily trade families for one with no siblings.
At that moment, Kumar grabbed his shoulder from behind. “Wah!” he shouted in Tarun’s ear. This time Tarun didn’t jump, but that didn’t stop Kumar from insisting he had scared him. “Gotcha again, baby Tarun. You thought I was gonna push you in the river.”
“Stop it, Kumar. Leave me alone.”
“Wah, wah! Crying sad little Tarun.”
As he looked at Kumar, resisting the urge to lunge at him again, Tarun noticed the light glinting off of something on Kumar’s chest. Suddenly, he remembered that morning.
“Seriously, just leave me alone,” he said again, keeping his cool and pretending to begin walking away. He needed to do this just right or it wouldn’t work: he had to keep cool and act like he was just going to go off and sulk somewhere else along the river. Just as he passed Kumar, however, Tarun swiftly reached over and grabbed the silver OM necklace that his parents had given him in one quick motion. It was almost too easy! He stepped back quickly, a triumphant smile on his face. Grasping the silver chain in his palm, he quickly ran to the edge of the river and held it out over the current.
“This is what you get for throwing seeds and scaring me, Kumar! This is what happens when you’re a jerk!” Tarun knew he wouldn’t actually throw the necklace into the river, but he wanted to make his brother angry, to show him he couldn’t push him around. He wanted to humiliate Kumar the way he was always trying to humiliate him.
Kumar’s eyes had first widened in shock at the quickness of Tarun’s theft of his necklace. Now, they narrowed into angry slits.
“Give it back, Tarun. Seriously, give it back now,” he commanded.
“No. First, apologize,” Tarun replied. It was working: Kumar was ticked.
“I’m going to take you down if you don’t give it back this minute,” Kumar said, his mouth grimly set in a frown. “If you drop it in the water, you will regret it, Tarun.”
“Yeah, I’d like to see you try.”
Kumar took a step forward, hand held out expectantly, and Tarun backed away further. Rearranging the contents of his hand, he let the pendant swing down while keeping a firm grip on the chain.
“Don’t come any closer or you’ll never see the necklace again.”
“Tarun, I’m going to count to three, and if I don’t have the necklace back on when I’m done, you’re finished.”
“Seriously, get away, Kumar . . .” Tarun finally had the upper hand and he wasn’t about to let go of the necklace. Not when he could see how mad his brother was getting, how furrowed his brow became.
“One.” Kumar took another step forward.
Tarun looked around at the crowds along the river. In the darkness it was hard to identify anyone, but he could see a small crowd gathered around Parvati, standing several yards away from them, not paying them any attention. Jay and Tejinder also stood nearby, but looking away from them, alert to the crowd. Could he make a run for it? Could he slip away from them? His parents would be furious, he could be sure of that. Likely he’d end up grounded for weeks, but that didn’t matter right now. What mattered right now was that he finally had the upper hand with Kumar.
“Two.”
“Say you’re sorry, Kumar, or say goodbye to the necklace,” Tarun taunted. He could see Kumar preparing himself to grab at the necklace. Tarun tensed his own legs.
“Three!” Kumar lunged for the necklace. Snatching his hand back, Tarun ducked under Kumar’s reaching arms and leapt over the lavender Ganesha murti, waiting patiently for his big moment. Before he could change his mind, Tarun began to run along the bank, carefully dodging the other people sitting and standing along the river. Behind him, he could hear Jay’s voice calling his name, then Parvati’s. Glancing back, he could see that Kumar was following close behind, following his path. Tarun bent his head and ran faster: his head start gave him an advantage but he knew Kumar would eventually catch up. In the darkness, it was hard to see and he bumped into several people as he made a dash for the main path. Reaching it, Tarun slipped into the throngs of people still milling around among the booths selling laddu and incense and brightly colored scarves. The crowd was thick here and Tarun had to weave quickly to put distance between him and his pursuer.
As he pushed through the people, Tarun heard a distant sound, a telltale thwump that could only signal one thing. In a moment, the sky was filled with scattered reds and greens, a starburst of dazzling color. The fireworks show had begun.
Already, Tarun felt a twinge of regret: what was his plan? Hide from Kumar and Parvati for the rest of the evening? Eventually Jay and Tejinder would find him, or he’d be forced to find his way back to his family. He couldn’t stay out here forever. And when he returned to his parents, there’d be no telling what kind of trouble he’d be in. The most important rule, his parents had told him after Arjun was first elected as chief minister, is to never leave Jay’s sight. He can’t protect you if he can’t see you. Under no circumstances should you go anywhere by yourself or try to sneak away from your security detail. There are bad people out there, people who might want to hurt you. Jay and Tejinder are there to protect you from them. So much for following directions.
“—in the short term, we’ll need to hire a surveying company to assist in planning the route of the wall, avoiding major disruptions in the landscape, such as Wular Lake. I estimate that we’ll need four to six months for—” Vishal was speaking to Arjun, carefully but insistently, while showing him the revised language for the bill. His voice, a droning buzz, like the buzzing of the fluorescent lightbulbs above them, irked Arjun. As much as Vishal was a valuable advisor, knowledgeable about the arcane ordinances of the city and connected to the people who made it run, Arjun had never fully trusted his ambitious colleague. Something about his cool and unflustered demeanor, his long wolfish face, his habit of speaking softly but forcefully, he gave Arjun the creeps. Now he wished he were anywhere else than this conference room, speaking to this man. He wished, in fact, he could be with his family.
A pop of light caught his eye. The fireworks had started. His stomach dropped: he’d already left word to Parvati that he wouldn’t be able to attend, but now it was official. He looked out the window at the spatters of light as they dripped down the canvas of the dark night sky. He belonged out there, he felt, not in here, initiating ceremonies of hope and joy, not building walls of exclusion and fear.
He interrupted Vishal. “Let’s take a break. I’d like to watch some of the fireworks, just for a moment, since I had to miss the rest of the festival. Please, go, get some coffee or food.”
As Vishal retreated, Arjun turned to face the window, and the bursts of light it afforded. He leaned back in his chair and thought of his family, peacefully enjoying the fireworks together somewhere down below.
Weaving among the people had gotten easier as the crowds had stopped moving and everyone’s face was turned up to the sky. Glancing back, he could no
longer see Kumar. That meant he’d either run so fast that he had lost him, which seemed unlikely, or he had dodged to the side of the path and would try to cut him off ahead. Slowing his run, Tarun took stock of his surroundings. He decided his best bet was to hide in between some of the market stalls and make up his mind then what to do next. Already he was contemplating giving up the chase entirely, returning the necklace, and walking back to Parvati to face his inevitably punishment. But the thrill of his triumph over Kumar still held him aloft and he wanted to savor the moment a bit before then. Slipping in between the covered stalls of two makeshift shops, Tarun crouched on the ground and looked out. Maybe he would even be able to see Kumar searching—and failing to find him.
Before long, Tarun felt a creeping shiver on the back of his neck. He slowly realized that he was not alone in the small space: a small figure huddled in the dark shadows behind him, hands outraised. Feeling his heart beating, he stared intently at the shadowy figure, straining his eyes to make out its features. As his eyes adjusted, he realized what he should have been able to predict: he was staring at a Ganesha murti, no doubt broken or mishandled, shoved into the back of the shop to be away from customer’s eyes. Tarun could now see that this one was painted red with white and purple accents.
A firework burst, sending cascades of silvery light into the sky. In the flash, Tarun caught a glimpse of Ganesha’s face. In lieu of his normally placid smile, the Ganesha stared back with a stern grimace, a crooked frown that signaled a warning. Tarun knew it was the light playing tricks or his overexcited mind working too hard or simply the lingering effects of his earlier dream, but the sorrowful, haunting countenance of the statue pushed him to his feet and back out into the open path. He just wanted to get away from that shadowy place and back into the lantern light of the path, the delighted crowds watching the heavens lit from within. He walked slowly through the frozen upturned faces back across the path toward the slope that led down to the river. He stopped at the edge before going down, watching the river mirror the exploding crystals of light, now coming pop! pop! in quick succession.