Page 243 - Leadership in the Indian Army

Laila sat in a comer and draped her knees with the hem of her dress.

"Thank you," she said.
Mariam took no notice of her. She finished cutting up the first trout and

picked up the second. With a serrated knife, she clipped the fins, then
turned the fish over, its underbelly facing her, and sliced it expertly from

the tail to the gills. Laila watched her put her thumb into its mouth, just

over the lower jaw, push it in, and, in one downward stroke, remove the

gills and the entrails.
"The clothes are lovely."

"I had no use for them," Mariam muttered. She dropped the fish on a

newspaper smudged with slimy, gray juice and sliced off its head. "It was
either your daughter or the moths."

"Where did you learn to clean fish like that?"
"When I was a little girl, I lived by a stream. I used to catch my own
fish."

"I've never fished"

"Not much to it. It's mostly waiting."
Laila watched her cut the gutted trout into thirds. "Did you sew the

clothes yourself?"

Mariam nodded.
"When?"

Mariam rinsed sections offish in a bowl of water. "When I was

pregnant the first time. Or maybe the second time. Eighteen, nineteen
years ago. Long time, anyhow. Like I said, I never had any use for

them."

"You're a really good khayai. Maybe you can teach me."
Mariam placed the rinsed chunks of trout into a clean bowl. Drops of

water dripping from her fingertips, she raised her head and looked at

Laila, looked at her as if for the first time.