Page 303 - Leadership in the Indian Army

On the way to Karteh-Seh, Zalmai bounced in Rasheed's arms, and

Aziza held Mariam's hand as she walked quickly beside her. The wind

blew the dirty scarf tied under Aziza's chin and rippled the hem of her
dress. Aziza was more grim now, as though she'd begun to sense, with

each step, that she was being duped. Laila had not found the strength to

tell Aziza the truth. She had told her that she was going to a school, a

special school where the children ate and slept and didn't come home
after class. Now Aziza kept pelting Laila with the same questions she had

been asking for days. Did the students sleep in different rooms or all in

one great big room? Would she make friends? Was she, Laila, sure that
the teachers would be nice?

And, more than once, How long do I have to stay?

They stopped two blocks from the squat, barracks-style building.

"Zalmai and I will wait here," Rasheed said. "Oh, before I forget…"

He fished a stick of gum from his pocket, a parting gift, and held it out

to Aziza with a stiff, magnanimous air. Aziza took it and muttered a

thank-you. Laila marveled at Aziza's grace, Aziza's vast capacity for

forgiveness, and her eyes filled. Her heart squeezed, and she was faint
with sorrow at the thought that this afternoon Aziza would not nap beside

her, that she would not feel the flimsy weight of Aziza's arm on her

chest, the curve of Aziza's head pressing into her ribs, Aziza's breath
warming her neck, Aziza's heels poking her belly.

When Aziza was led away, Zalmai began wailing, crying, Ziza! Ziza! He
squirmed and kicked in his father's arms, called for his sister, until his