Every day she was at her school, Razia Jan held a kindergarten inspection. Passing along the desks of excited, fidgety little girls, most of them proudly in their uniform of green scarves and grey salwar kameez, she commanded each small mouth to open. “Did you brush your teeth this morning?” “Yes,” each one answered, often unconvincingly, for these were country children from dusty village compounds. “Are you fibbing? I’ve told you before, if you don’t have toothpaste, use salt.” Nothing escaped Auntie Razia’s eagle eye. “What’s that stain on your scarf? Didn’t I tell you to get your mother to wash it? You must always come here clean and neat.” Her stern commands were still met with joyful smiles, for she was their teacher.