A Thousand Splendid Suns

In some parts, the staircase was open to the Buddha's cavity.
"Don't look down, children. Keep looking straight ahead."
As they climbed, Babi told them that Bamiyan had once been a thriving
Buddhist center until it had fallen under Islamic Arab rule in the ninth
century. The sandstone cliffs were home to Buddhist monks who carved
caves in them to use as living quarters and as sanctuary for weary
traveling pilgrims. The monks, Babi said, painted beautiful frescoes along
the walls and roofs of their caves.
"At one point," he said, "there were five thousand monks living as
hermits in these caves."
Tariq was badly out of breath when they reached the top. Babi was
panting too. But his eyes shone with excitement.
"We're standing atop its head," he said, wiping his brow with a
handkerchief "There's a niche over here where we can look out."
They inched over to the craggy overhang and, standing side by side,
with Babi in the middle, gazed down on the valley.
"Look at this!" said Laila.
Babi smiled.
The Bamiyan Valley below was carpeted by lush farming fields. Babi
said they were green winter wheat and alfalfa, potatoes too. The fields
were bordered by poplars and crisscrossed by streams and irrigation