Page 239 - Leadership in the Indian Army

Mariam pulled her finger free. The baby smiled and made a series of

gurgling sounds. The knuckles went back to the mouth.
"What are you so happy about? Huh? What are you smiling at? You're

not so clever as your mother says. You have a brute for a father and a

fool for a mother. You wouldn't smile so much if you knew. No you

wouldn't. Go to sleep, now. Go on."
Mariam rose to her feet and walked a few steps before the baby started

making the eh, eh, eh sounds that Mariam knew signaled the onset of a

hearty cry. She retraced her steps.

"What is it? What do you want fromme?"
The baby grinned toothlessly.
Mariam sighed. She sat down and let her finger be grabbed, looked on

as the baby squeaked, as she flexed her plump legs at the hips and

kicked air. Mariam sat there, watching, until the baby stopped moving

and began snoring softly.
Outside, mockingbirds were singing blithely, and, once in a while, when

the songsters took flight, Mariam could see their wings catching the

phosphorescent blue of moonlight beaming through the clouds. And

though her throat was parched with thirst and her feet burned with pins
and needles, it was a long time before Mariam gently freed her finger

from the baby's grip and got up.

34.

Laila
Of all earthly pleasures, Laila's favorite was lying next to Aziza, her

baby's face so close that she could watch her big pupils dilate and shrink.
Laila loved running her finger over Aziza's pleasing, soft skin, over the

dimpled knuckles, the folds of fat at her elbows. Sometimes she lay

Aziza down on her chest and whispered into the soft crown of her head