Page 37 - Leadership in the Indian Army

Mariam only looked at him.

"I'll take you to a hotel, then. You can sleep comfortably there. We'll
see what we can do in the morning."

"Let me in the house."
"I've been instructed not to. Look, no one knows when he's coming

back. It could be days."

Mariam crossed her arms.
The driver sighed and looked at her with gentle reproach.
Over the years, Mariam would have ample occasion to think about how

things might have turned out if she had let the driver take her back to

the kolba But she didn't. She spent the night outside Jalil's house. She

watched the sky darken, the shadows engulf the neighboring housefronts.

The tattooed girl brought her some bread and a plate of rice, which
Mariam said she didn't want. The girl left it near Mariam. From time to

time, Mariam heard footsteps down the street, doors swinging open,

muffled greetings. Electric lights came on, and windows glowed dimly.
Dogs barked. When she could no longer resist the hunger, Mariam ate

the plate of rice and the bread. Then she listened to the crickets chirping

from gardens. Overhead, clouds slid past a pale moon.

In the morning, she was shaken awake. Mariam saw that during the

night someone had covered her with a blanket.

It was the driver shaking her shoulder.

"This is enough. You've made a scene. Bos. It's time to go."

Mariam sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her back and neck were sore. "I'm