Page 309 - Leadership in the Indian Army

bless you, brother."

***

But "when the time for good-byes came, the scene erupted precisely as

Laila had dreaded.

Aziza panicked.
All the way home, leaning on Mariam, Laila heard Aziza's shrill cries. In

her head, she saw Zaman's thick, calloused hands close around Aziza's
arms; she saw them pull, gently at first, then harder, then with force to

pry Aziza loose from her. She saw Aziza kicking in Zaman's arms as he

hurriedly turned the corner, heard Aziza screaming as though she were
about to vanish from the face of the earth. And Laila saw herself running

down the hallway, head down, a howl rising up her throat.

"I smell her," she told Mariam at home. Her eyes swam unseeingly past

Mariam's shoulder, past the yard, the walls, to the mountains, brown as
smoker's spit. "I smell her sleep smell. Do you? Do you smell it?"

"Oh, Laila jo," said Mariam. "Don't. What good is this? What good?"

* * *

At first, Rasheed humored Laila, and accompanied them-her, Mariam,
and Zalmai-to the orphanage, though he made sure, as they walked, that

she had an eyeful of his grievous looks, an earful of his rants over what

a hardship she was putting him through, how badly his legs and back and

feet ached walking to and from the orphanage. He made sure she knew
how awfully put out he was.