Another semester has gone, taking me closer to the completion of my MBA and here I am today, writing from my train to home. Of course I’ll post this draft once I am in the confines of my home, when every byte of data will struggle to get uploaded from my small town’s BSNL broadband - a service that promises much more than its ability to deliver.
Its 3:15 p.m. now on the second day of my journey, a 46.5 hours one in total, with me on the side upper berth where there’s just enough space for me to lie down straight and yet I’m glad. Not because I’m perched high, glad because I could finish reading this awesome piece by Khalid Hosseini, “The Kite Runner” in a period of a day and a half straight. This is not how I usually spend my monotonous and long train journeys, I prefer peeping out of the tinted window and occasionally chatting with complete strangers around.
But this time, the vibes were not just right and I decided to get immersed in “The Kite Runner”. Now that it’s read, I’m glad that I began. The desire to read it was stronger because of the fervor with which Shreya gave me this one in my hand and said “You must read this” while I stood confused in front of the fiction section of our an year and a half young library. And now, I’ve been so moved by the story that I decided to pen down a few thoughts about it.
The pictures of Hassan & Ali, Amir & his Baba, Rahim Khan, Soraya & her parents, Aseef, the Talibs and the landscapes of Kabul – before & after, are all painted so clearly in my mind now that I won’t wonder if my tonight’s train dream will have them all or maybe there won’t be any dream at all, maybe no sleep even, all because I’m going home after ONE LONG YEAR. The last time I’d been home was on the morning of Diwali’08 and tomorrow will be Diwali’09, exactly a year has passed and I keep wondering of things that would’ve changed. There’s so much drama entwined with all our lives that often I feel, the direction of it all is just perfect, something that no human can judge and no Oscar can reward.I could witness some serious drama in the pages of “The Kite Runner” too and I’m left wondering at the deadly skill that the art of writing could be, wondering that how easily could Amir write his first story, how naturally he got the talent of writing ‘irony’ in the same, and how simply his illiterate servant Ali’s illiterate son Hassan, who later turned out to be his half brother, had pointed out the ‘plot hole’ in his interesting small first story.
I had never realized this before until I read from Khalid’s pen – not that there are people in this world who mean every word they say, but the fact that these people think that everyone else does the same too. So when they speak of something, casually do they take the words of everyone else, as if they were also meant exactly like them! How true & how fascinating!!
I was fascinated by the drive that Amir had to win the kite flying tournament so that in the eyes of his Baba, he could become someone who was looked at, not seen, listened to, and not heard. So much to strive, for a dream that was not his own, but his Baba’s. A whole lot of the world does that and I’m not judging the extent to which it might be right.
But yes, the drama woven around the tournament was so captivating that I regret not having learnt the art so far. Maybe this time when I’m home, when my neighbours’ kite will be up in the sky on the festival of Chatth, 6 days after Diwali, I’ll try my hands at it and in those moments, maybe I’d think of Amir to get the rush of adrenaline, a must to drive one crazy at any sport.
At one point, I could not keep myself from smiling when I found the melodrama that a Bollywood film has, when towards the end, in desperation to save a loved one’s life, Atheists turn to God, pray, become believers and stay on like that.
Also did I find out that a dialogue from one of my recent favourite romantic movies, ‘Jaane Tu’ was an abridged version of the lines by Hosseini – ‘You can take Afghans out of Paghman, but you can’t take Paghman out of Afghans’. Pardon me for my ignorance if something like this is a clichéd phrase that the author had passingly mentioned. And if it is not, we should appreciate Bollywood for being so diverse!
The crux of The Kite Runner’s story is something I’m not disclosing here. It’s a recommended read for all those of you passionate about fiction and who at the same time wants a peek into the Afghanistan of the Monarchs, the Rebels and the Taliban.
It makes me wonder though, how people change for and with power and how they forget the larger interests of humanity in this quest of theirs, which they shamelessly try to justify in the name of God, of religion and of the past.
Siddharth
(Onboard Sanghmitra Express)
