How glorious to know that her love for it already dwarfed anything she had ever felt as a human being, to know that there was no need any longer for pebble games.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
" I missed you."
There was a pause.
Then Tariq turned to her with a half-grinning half-grimacing look of distaste.
"What’s the matter with you?"
How many times had she, Hasina, and Giti said those same three words to each other, Laila wondered, said it without hesitation, after only two or three days of not seeing each other? I missed you, Hasina. Oh, I missed you too. In Tariq's grimace, Laila learned that boys differed from girls in this regard. They didn’t make a show of friendship. They felt no urge, no need for this sort of talk. Laila imagined it had been this way for her brothers too. Boys, Laila came to see, treated friendship the way they treated the sun: its existence undisputed; its radiance best enjoyed, not beheld directly.
"I was trying to annoy you", she said.
He gave her a sidelong glance. "It worked".
But she thought his grimace softened. And she thought that maybe the sunburn on his cheeks deepened momentarily.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I’m never getting married”, Tariq whispered.
“Me netiher”, said Laila, but not before a moment if nervous hesitation. She worried that her voice betrayed her disappointment at what he had said. Her heart galloping, she added, more forcefully this time, “Never”.
“Weddings are stupid”.
“All the fuss”.
“All the money spent”.
“For what?”
“For clothes you’ll never wear again.”
“Ha!”
“If I ever do get married”, Tariq added,”they’ll have to make room for three on the wedding stage. Me, the bride, and the guy holding the gun to my head!"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Though there had been moments of beauty in it, Mariam knew that life for the most part had been unkind to her. But as she walked the final twenty paces, she could not help but wish for more of it. She wished she could see Laila again, wished to hear that clangor of her laugh, to sit with her once more for a pot of chai and leftover-halwa under a starlit sky. She mourned that she would never see Aziza grow up, would not see the beautiful young woman that she would one day become, wold not get to paint her hands with henna and toss noqul candy at her wedding. She would never play with Aziza’a children. She would have liked that very much, to be old and play with Aziza’s children.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mariam wished for so much in those final moments. Yet as she closed her eyes, it was not regret any longer but a sensation of abundant peace that washed over her. She thought of her entry into this world, the harami child of a lowly villager, an unintended thing, a pitiable, regrettable accident. A weed. And yet she was leaving it as a friend, a companion, a guardian. A mother. A person of consequence at last. No. it was not so bad, Mariam thought, that she should die this way. Not so bad.
This was a legitimate end to a life of illegitimate beginnings.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
" I missed you."
There was a pause.
Then Tariq turned to her with a half-grinning half-grimacing look of distaste.
"What’s the matter with you?"
How many times had she, Hasina, and Giti said those same three words to each other, Laila wondered, said it without hesitation, after only two or three days of not seeing each other? I missed you, Hasina. Oh, I missed you too. In Tariq's grimace, Laila learned that boys differed from girls in this regard. They didn’t make a show of friendship. They felt no urge, no need for this sort of talk. Laila imagined it had been this way for her brothers too. Boys, Laila came to see, treated friendship the way they treated the sun: its existence undisputed; its radiance best enjoyed, not beheld directly.
"I was trying to annoy you", she said.
He gave her a sidelong glance. "It worked".
But she thought his grimace softened. And she thought that maybe the sunburn on his cheeks deepened momentarily.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I’m never getting married”, Tariq whispered.
“Me netiher”, said Laila, but not before a moment if nervous hesitation. She worried that her voice betrayed her disappointment at what he had said. Her heart galloping, she added, more forcefully this time, “Never”.
“Weddings are stupid”.
“All the fuss”.
“All the money spent”.
“For what?”
“For clothes you’ll never wear again.”
“Ha!”
“If I ever do get married”, Tariq added,”they’ll have to make room for three on the wedding stage. Me, the bride, and the guy holding the gun to my head!"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Though there had been moments of beauty in it, Mariam knew that life for the most part had been unkind to her. But as she walked the final twenty paces, she could not help but wish for more of it. She wished she could see Laila again, wished to hear that clangor of her laugh, to sit with her once more for a pot of chai and leftover-halwa under a starlit sky. She mourned that she would never see Aziza grow up, would not see the beautiful young woman that she would one day become, wold not get to paint her hands with henna and toss noqul candy at her wedding. She would never play with Aziza’a children. She would have liked that very much, to be old and play with Aziza’s children.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mariam wished for so much in those final moments. Yet as she closed her eyes, it was not regret any longer but a sensation of abundant peace that washed over her. She thought of her entry into this world, the harami child of a lowly villager, an unintended thing, a pitiable, regrettable accident. A weed. And yet she was leaving it as a friend, a companion, a guardian. A mother. A person of consequence at last. No. it was not so bad, Mariam thought, that she should die this way. Not so bad.
This was a legitimate end to a life of illegitimate beginnings.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Kneel here, hamshira. And look down”
One last time, Mariam did as she was told.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs,
Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
But mostly Mariam is in Laila’s own heart, where she shines with the bursting radiance of a thousand suns.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Kneel here, hamshira. And look down”
One last time, Mariam did as she was told.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs,
Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
But mostly Mariam is in Laila’s own heart, where she shines with the bursting radiance of a thousand suns.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
