Page 390 - Leadership in the Indian Army

surely heaven-bound."

Laila lowers her cup.

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Can you show me?" she says. "Where Mariam lived. Can you take me

there?"

* * *

The driver agrees to wait awhile longer.

Hamza and Laila exit the village and walk downhill on the road that

connects Gul Daman to Herat. After fifteen minutes or so, he points to a
narrow gap in the tall grass that flanks the road on both sides.

"That's how you get there," he says. "There is a path there."

The path is rough, winding, and dim, beneath the vegetation and

undergrowth. The wind makes the tall grass slam against Laila's calves

as she and Hamza climb the path, take the turns. On either side of them

is a kaleidoscope of wilciflowers swaying in the wind, some tall with
curved petals, others low, fan-leafed. Here and there a few ragged

buttercups peep through the low bushes. Laila hears the twitter of

swallows overhead and the busy chatter of grasshoppers underfoot.

They walk uphill this way for two hundred yards or more. Then the path
levels, and opens into a flatter patch of land. They stop, catch their

breath. Laila dabs at her brow with her sleeve and bats at a swarm of