Page 350 - Leadership in the Indian Army

Laila slipped out of bed. It took effort to stand. She ached everywhere.

Her neck, her shoulders, her back, her arms, her thighs, all engraved
with the cuts of Rasheed's belt buckle. Wincing, she quietly left the

bedroom.

In Mariam's room, the light was a shade darker than gray, the kind of
light Laila had always associated with crowing roosters and dew rolling

off blades of grass. Mariam was sitting in a corner, on a prayer rug facing

the window. Slowly, Laila lowered herself to the ground, sitting down

across from her.

"You should go and visit Aziza this morning," Mariam said.

"I know what you mean to do."

"Don't walk. Take the bus, you'll blend in. Taxis are too conspicuous.
You're sure to get stopped for riding alone."

"What you promised last night…"

Laila could not finish. The trees, the lake, the nameless village. A

delusion, she saw. A lovely lie meant to soothe. Like cooing to a

distressed child.

"I meant it," Mariam said. "I meant it for you, Laila jo."

"I don't want any of it without you," Laila croaked.

Mariam smiled wanly.

"I want it to be just like you said, Mariam, all of us going together, you,
me, the children. Tariq has a place in Pakistan. We can hide out there for