Kingdom Come

“I don’t need this,” she announced to the empty air and stalked back into the kitchen.

It was the morning for an ice cream breakfast, after all.

Ziya put in a full hour with Noor, sympathizing, encouraging and alternating with sharp words that defended Sam’s actions before she escaped to the sanctuary of her own office. The two bowls of chocolate ice cream she’d had, sat heavy on her stomach and she knew ruefully that she’d have to forego lunch.

Since it was a remarkably beautiful day, she decided to bike it down to her office in Srinagar. Usually, she used the four-wheel drive Rover, but the ice cream had put her in the mood for some immediate exercise. And, she needed to burn off the steam of her anger against one Assistant Manager who moved like the goddamn air. Da was in his office, probably playing Internet poker against thirteen-year-olds, and so she left without informing him of her whereabouts.

The bike ride down the small hillock was bouncy but invigorating and, on flat land, there was a bike path that she was the only one who used with any consistency. People preferred walking in Kashmir, or driving. Because of the hilly, rough train.

She, with her Western lifestyle and her obsession with keeping the weight off, wanted to bike it up and down like Lance Armstrong. Not the best example, she acknowledged, as she chained up the three-speed outside the simple brownstone that housed Goonj Enterprises.

It was set in front of an apple orchard that produced award-winning apples every couple of seasons. There was an apple cidar unit in the back lot, and then, for miles on end on either side of the highway were timber lots owned by the Akhtar family. Some of the timber was cut down and sold to local manufacturers, small craftsmen who needed that special chinar, maple tree bark, for their carvings and carpentry. And the rest of it was used to manufacture cricket bats.

The first time Ziya had entered the workshop where the cricket bat was made, she’d been astounded by the easy precision and perfect syncing of the wood being cut and the final product.

The brownstone was divided into offices for Krivi and Ziya and a few other personnel and a souvenir and apple cidar tasting shop on the other hand.

And every day, when the store opened for business, like it had for the last year when she’d first decreed that it would, Ziya made it a point to walk through and greet the first few browsers and have an encouraging word with Poppy, the Australian girl who manned the store. She did the same today too, but she was late by almost two hours and the place was pretty deserted.

The store was called Goonj Curios and Souvenirs, because she’d wanted to reinforce the brand name of the family enterprise and it sounded powerful and mysterious. Goonj in Hindi meant echo, and it resonated with the warm feeling she wanted every customer who came in to leave with. Echoing in their hearts forever.

Poppy was showing a couple of Japanese tourists around the store, so Ziya quickly waved to her and kept moving forward to the back entrance and to her office.

The storeroom was next to the shop and her office was on the next floor. She quickly jogged up the stone steps and entered her office with a small sigh. Her legs were aching a little because she’d pedaled furiously in her anger and she uncapped a bottle of spring water she kept on the sideboard and drank it down thirstily. Then she dropped her messenger bag on her comfy desk and opened the file that Krivi had thrust at her.

A knock sounded on her door and she looked up to see Viven, her assistant come in with a tray of bottles.

“These came in by mail. You have to let them know by Friday latest, and they can get on to bulk manufacture in a week.”

Bottles for the apple cidar they produced in the back lot.

“Put it down here, I’ll get to it in a minute.” She indicated the edge of her cluttered desk and Viven whistled as he placed the tray, after clearing a pile of papers.

“I have told you I could clear all this stuff up for you, Ziya.” He smiled goofily, a kid who was doing his MBA long-distance and had dreams of opening his own restaurant in the hills for adventure enthusiasts. “It’s my job as your assistant to help you out any way I can.”

“And it’s my job as your boss to kick your butt if you touch my stuff, sweetie.” Ziya smiled, a sharp grin and Viven shook his head and ducked out.

Krivi came in without knocking just as Ziya had opened the file. She looked up a split second before he entered, her inner radar alerting her to his silent, morose presence. He was dressed much like her. Jeans, a pullover in dark brown and work boots. He didn’t even wear a watch but she knew he was always on time. Every-fricking-where. It was uncanny and a little frightening.

“You read it?”

He didn’t sit down, didn’t hover at the edge of her desk. He just stood, casually, but on full alert like some soldier on duty, taking up all the space in her cozy, little office. Ziya resisted the urge to lean her chair back and regard him better. Since, with his six-two height and her current position he pretty much loomed over her across the room.

“No. I just got in.”

“OK. I will come back when you have.”

“That’s all right,” she said, tapping the file. “I think I sent you most of the stuff that you used to collate the report. What’s your gut tell you?”

He blinked, as if he was unsure of what he’d just heard.

“I beg your pardon?”

Ziya smiled and tapped the folder again. “The saffron field. Yield-to-seed ratio, output and expenses. Is it sound to go into it, right now? With the shaky situation of the market?”

“Isn’t that your job to figure out all the angles?”

She nodded and pushed her hair back behind her ear. His eyes twitched to her small ears for a microsecond and she dropped her hand back.

“Yes, it is.” Ziya leaned back in her chair to regard him better. “I just wanted your opinion. I assume you do have one.”

Krivi nodded. “Yes, I do.”

She waited a beat and then drummed her fingers over the folder again. “And this opinion would be …”

“We have a meeting day after tomorrow in Pehelgam. I think you should take it. The man seems sound, and his finances are in order. It’s a risk you can afford to take.”

She smiled again, but this time there was a bit of warmth in it. “Thank you. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Again, his hard eyes twitched, as if she’d said something that could set him off.

“What was?”

“Talking. Communicating. It’s what all the cool people are doing.” She kept the smile on even while she felt the temperature drop in the room by a good ten degrees.

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied, honestly. “I have never been cool.”

“Of course, you haven’t.” She shrugged. “I’ll look through the report again. See if I can spot a gremlin. But I think we should go see a man about a field too.” She waited a beat more to see if that would crack the impenetrable ice surrounding him.

It didn’t.

Ziya nodded, her eyes cool again. “I’ll see you day after tomorrow then. You can drive us down in the four-wheel. It’s not a problem, is it?”

He didn’t say whether it was a problem or not. All he said was, “Day after tomorrow. Nine a.m.”

And then he was gone, closing the door behind him in a soundless movement.

Ziya huffed out a breath and twisted the bottle of water in her hand. Men, she mused, were the strangest species on earth. And Krivi Iyer was the king of this species. Too bad he looked exactly like how she’d expect an ex-war vet to look. All surly and brooding, frighteningly efficient. And good enough in jeans as he must have in uniform. Then, because it was unprofessional to daydream about hot ex-war vets during business hours, Ziya turned back to the folder and started reading up on the pros and cons of buying a readymade saffron field.

three (#ulink_49b43dab-6732-57e6-8bcd-1547503b7753)

The next day, Noor made a slight but significant change to their plans. First, she insisted on coming because she was so damn bored working on her ‘Commitment in literature was a hoax’ thesis. And secondly, she was missing Sam and she didn’t want to, so she was going down to Gulmarg and indulging in a day of sightseeing and souvenir shopping. And pigging out on junk food.

Noor was what you’d call an emotional eater. Ziya knew her best friend’s moods as well as she knew her own, so she knew the deep hurt Noor was hiding under her flippant arguments. So, she simply texted Krivi to tell him that they could take two cars down, since Noor and Ziya would probably end up spending the night in Pehelgam.

He sent a word back in reply.

No.