Page 47 - Leadership in the Indian Army

friend at the door, his white beard and his amiable, toothless smile,

Mariam felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes again. She swung her
feet over the side of the bed and hurried over. She kissed his hand as

always and he her brow. She pulled him up a chair-He showed her the

Koran he had brought with him and opened it. "I figured no sense in

skipping our routine, eh?"

"You know I don't need lessons anymore, Mullah sahib. You taught me

every surrah and ayat in the Koran years ago."

He smiled, and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I confess,

then. I've been found out. But I can think of worse excuses to visit you."

"You don't need excuses. Not you."

"You're kind to say that, Mariam jo."

He passed her his Koran. As he'd taught her, she kissed it three

times-touching it to her brow between each kiss-and gave it back to him.

"How are you, my girl?"

"I keep," Mariam began. She had to stop, feeling like a rock had lodged

itself in her throat. "I keep thinking of what she said to me before I left.

She-"

"Nay, nay, nay. "Mullah Faizullah put his hand on her knee. "Your

mother, may Allah forgive her, was a troubled and unhappy woman,
Mariam jo. She did a terrible thing to herself. To herself, to you, and also

to Allah. He will forgive her, for He is all-forgiving, but Allah is saddened