Page 353 - Leadership in the Indian Army

awaited planting and chickens that awaited raising. She went on about

small houses in unnamed towns, and walks to trout-filled lakes. And, in
the end, when the words dried up, the tears did not, and all Laila could

do was surrender and sob like a child over-whelmed by an adult's

unassailable logic. All she could do was roll herself up and bury her face

one last time in the welcoming warmth of Mariam's lap.

* * *

Later that morning, Mariam packed Zalmai a small lunch of bread and

dried figs. For Aziza too she packed some figs, and a few cookies shaped

like animals. She put it all in a paper bag and gave it to Laila.

"Kiss Aziza for me," she said. "Tell her she is the noor of my eyes and

the sultan of my heart. Will you do that for me?"

Laila nodded, her lips pursed together.

"Take the bus, like I said, and keep your head low."

"When will I see you, Mariam? I want to see you before I testify. I'll tell

them how it happened. I'll explain that it wasn't your fault. That you had

to do it. They'll understand, won't they, Mariam? They'll understand."

Mariam gave her a soft look.

She hunkered down to eye level with Zalmai. He was wearing a red

T-shirt, ragged khakis, and a used pair of cowboy boots Rasheed had
bought him from Mandaii. He was holding his new basketball with both

hands. Mariam planted a kiss on his cheek.