Page 186 - Leadership in the Indian Army

Saying that he was leaving.

Not the neighborhood. Not Kabul. But Afghanistan altogether.
Leaving.
Laila was struck blind.
"Where? Where will you go?"

"Pakistan first. Peshawar. Then I don't know. Maybe Hindustan. Iran."
"How long?"
"I don't know."

"I mean, how long have you known?"
"A few days. I was going to tell you, Laila, I swear, but I couldn't bring

myself to. I knew how upset you'd be."
"When?"

"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"

"Laila, look at me."
"Tomorrow."
"It's my father. His heart can't take it anymore, all this fighting and

killing."
Laila buried her face in her hands, a bubble of dread filling her chest.

She should have seen this coming, she thought. Almost everyone she

knew had packed their things and left. The neighborhood had been all

but drained of familiar faces, and now, only four months after fighting

had broken out between the Mujahideen factions, Laila hardly recognized
anybody on the streets anymore. Hasina's family had fled in May, off to

Tehran. Wajma and her clan had gone to Islamabad that same month.

Giti's parents and her siblings left in June, shortly after Giti was killed.
Laila didn't know where they had gone-she heard a rumor that they had

headed for Mashad, in Iran. After people left, their homes sat unoccupied

for a few days, then either militiamen took them or strangers moved in.
Everyone was leaving. And now Tariq too.