Page 193 - And the Mountains Echoed (novel)

sometimes struck him as hopelessly dull.

“So did you do it, then?” Adel said. “Did you, you know, stick it in her?”
“No. We had a cup of chai and discussed Rumi. What do you think?”
Adel blushed. “What was it like?”
But Gholam had already moved on. This was often the pattern of their
conversations, Gholam choosing what they would talk about, launching into a
story with gusto, roping Adel in, only to lose interest and leave both the story

and Adel dangling.
Now, instead of finishing up the story he had started, Gholam said, “My
grandmother says her husband, my grandfather Saboor, told her a story about
this tree once. Well, that was long before he cut it down, of course. My
grandfather told it to her when they were both kids. The story was that if you had
a wish, you had to kneel before the tree and whisper it. And if the tree agreed to
grant it, it would shed exactly ten leaves on your head.”
“I never heard that,” Adel says.

“Well, you wouldn’t have, would you?”
It was then that Adel caught on to what Gholam had really said. “Wait. Your
grandfather cut down our tree?”
Gholam turned his eyes to him. “Your tree? It’s not your tree.”
Adel blinked. “What does that mean?”

Gholam bore his gaze even deeper into Adel’s face. For the first time, Adel
could detect no trace of his friend’s customary liveliness or of his trademark
smirk or lighthearted mischief. His face was transformed, his expression sober,
startlingly adult.
“This was my family’s tree. This was my family’s land. It’s been ours for
generations. Your father built his mansion on our land. While we were in
Pakistan during the war.” He pointed to the orchards. “These? They used to be
people’s homes. But your father had them bulldozed to the ground. Just like he

brought down the house where my father was born, where he was raised.”
Adel blinked.
“He claimed our land as his own and he built that”—here, he actually sneered
as he threw a thumb toward the compound—“that thing in its stead.”
Feeling a little nauseated, his heart thumping heavily, Adel said, “I thought
we were friends. Why are you telling these terrible lies?”

“Remember when I tricked you and took your jersey?” Gholam said, a flush
rising to his cheeks. “You almost cried. Don’t deny it, I saw you. That was over
a shirt. A shirt. Imagine how my family felt, coming all the way from Pakistan,