Page 307 - Leadership in the Indian Army

Next to Laila, Aziza snorted.
Zaman feigned a gasp. "Ah, there. I've made you laugh, little hamshira.

That's usually the hard part. I was worried, there, for a while. I thought
I'd have to cluck like a chicken or bray like a donkey. But, there you are.

And so lovely you are."

He called in an attendant to look after Aziza for a few moments. Aziza
leaped onto Mariam's lap and clung to her.

"We're just going to talk, my love," Laila said. "I'll be right here. All
right? Right here."

"Why don't we go outside for a minute, Aziza jo?" Mariam said. "Your

mother needs to talk to Kaka Zaman here. Just for a minute. Now, come
on."

When they were alone, Zaman asked for Aziza's date of birth, history of

illnesses, allergies. He asked about Aziza's father, and Laila had the
strange experience of telling a lie that was really the truth. Zaman

listened, his expression revealing neither belief nor skepticism. He ran

the orphanage on the honor system, he said. If a hamshira said her
husband was dead and she couldn't care for her children, he didn't

question it.

Laila began to cry.

Zaman put down his pen.

"I'm ashamed," Laila croaked, her palm pressed to her mouth.