Kite Runner by Khaled Husseini

Kite Runner by Khaled Husseini

 It is a story about guilt, regret, repentance, war, devastation, love, innocence, jealousy, and various human emotions.

Set up in the backdrop of a culturally rich Afghanistan, Kite Runner is the tale narrated by a little boy who grows in an affluent environment.

Amir admires his father who is a rich and courageous man, respected in his community. However, Amir does not get the kind of encouragement he expected from his father. The father loved Hasan, the son of their servant equally. Sometimes he had more praises for Hasan than for Amir. The father found Amir too timid and wanted him to become as brave as Hasan.

Both Amir and Hasan grow up in Kabul flying kites and playing together in pomegranate orchards. While Amir would fly kites deftly, Hasan would run to get the kites he brought down.

On one occasion, which was a big kite festival in Kabul, Amir wins by cutting the last kite in the sky. For him, this victory was more important as it gave him a chance to earn respect in his father’s eyes.

Father did appreciate Amir’s achievement.

Exhilarated, Amir asks Hasan to bring the last kite that he had cut. Hasan runs. When he does not return for long, Amir goes to look for him. What he sees shocks him. Amir freezes. Another rich kid of mixed race is sodomising Hasan while rich kid’s friends were watching and holding Hasan.

It was revenge. In the past, this rich kid had tried to bully Amir but couldn’t succeed as Hasan stood as a wall. The rich kid felt humiliated and vouched to teach Hasan a lesson.

Shock freezes Amir. He wants to save Hasan but is unable to dare.

Amir comes back to his father and pretends to be unaware of what Hasan has gone through. His life with guilt starts from this day.

Hasan goes into his shell. He wants to recreate the relation he shared with Amir but fails.

Amir does things to get rid of his guilt. He quietly gives all his money and an expensive watch, which his father had given him as a birthday present.

Father finds out and, thinking all the gifts were stolen, asks Hasan and his father to leave the house.

Time passes. Amir is happy to get undivided attention of his father but dwells in guilt when alone.

Afghanistan sees the emergence of Taliban. Soon, there is exodus. Amir and his father also leave.

They end up taking refuge in the US. Life changes its course.

Amir’s father works hard and sends son to good school. Amir becomes a writer and marries an Afghani girl Soraya, settled in the US.

Father dies. Amir and Soraya are unable to have children. Amir thinks it is a curse and God’s way of telling him what he deserves for not coming to the rescue of Hasan.

After father’s death, Amir receives a letter from his father’s best and closest friend Ali. The letter had another shock waiting for Amir.

After the death of Amir’s mother, his father had slept with Servant’s wife, who gave birth to Hasan.

Father also lived in guilt and therefore tried to give all those comforts and material things what he gave to Amir. What he couldn’t give Hasan was dignity and the family name.

Ali in his letter asks Amir to go to Afghanistan and bring Hasan’s son to put him in some orphanage. Hasan’s parents have been killed by Taliban.

Amir goes back to Afghanistan and sees Hasan’s son is serving as one of the objects for a militant, who is the same rich boy who had sodomised Hasan.

After much torture and violence, Amir is able to bring Hasan’s son to Pakistan.

Thinking that this may be the chance to repent on what he did to Hasan, Amir now wants to adopt his son. Fighting too many legal battles, he takes Hasan’s son to the US.

It takes long for Hasan’s son to adjust to a new and normal life but eventually he does smile!

(The way the story has been narrated is amazing. I felt transported to Afghanistan, Pakistan, and to the US as well. I lived every emotion with the characters. I cried in their pain and smiled in their happiness. It turned out to be the best-written books I may have read so far. I was compelled to write, though it may spoil the reading pleasure of those who have not read the book and want to read it now)

A journey that was....

I have been to Varanasi many times. This visit on 17 June 2015 was dedicated to my sister and it was a sort of my present to her on her wedding anniversary which was on 18 June.

Fond of road journeys we started our drive in our humble 10-year old Santro (Hyundai). We had barely driven 3-4 km when the obstructions started.

Wrong news given by media that the flyover on Lucknow-Sultanpur road has become functional, was the first block. The flyover was neatly barricaded.

We reversed and took another route bypassing Rae Bareli and Pratapharh, as suggested by a few of our very good friends. The road was bad, as expected in Uttar Pradesh. However, the excitement of taking my sister to a place she has not seen dominated and we reached Varanasi in the afternoon.

The tiredness vanished the moment our host informed us about the plan they had chalked out for next two days.

Before leaving home I had requested a friend of mine to make our stay arrangement and also make some arrangement for Ganga Arti and early morning darshan of Baba Bhole Nath or Kashi Vishwanath Temple.

I was pleasantly surprised to see the methodical planning that the hosts had done.

By evening we were ready to go for Ganga Arti. Lekhpal Chhedi Lal Srivastava was there dot on time to accompany us to the ghat (river bank). From Civil Lines (where we were staying) to Gudaulia (Dashasvamegh ghat). Throughout the way, he kept explaining as to why Varanasi could never improve, despite being the constituency of the Indian Prime Minister, at present. He also told us about places on the way and which area is known for what. It was interesting and enlightening.    

Since we reached the ghats a bit early, Srivastava suggested we should go for boating.

There, Srivastava handed over his charge to Rajesh Kumar, the tourist police, and told us that he would meet us near our car when we are finished with our business at the ghat.

Rajesh Kumar was waiting for us to guide us to the boats and come along with us. Boating was pure fun. Rajesh Kumar narrated the history behind all those magnificent structures at each of the 84 ghats.

Boating in Ganga was not new for me but the experience was different to all the previous ones. We spent an hour there - taking photos, listening to Rajesh and enjoying the strong splashes of water that the speed of the boat created.

The river Ganga was at its prime beauty due to strong breeze causing big waves.

There are 84 ghats and each ghat has a story to tell. Rajesh Kumar could tell us some. He told us why the Kashi Karvat temple was named so. He gave the history of Raja sawai Maan Singh Fort and Chet Singh Fort. He told us about the Observatory in one of those forts. He also narrated the saga of old musical instruments that are stored in one of the forts.

The life at the banks of Ganges was rejuvenating. There were cricket matches being played with proper running commentary. 

Rajesh also showed us the replica of Nepal's Pashupati Nath Temple which is built and managed by Nepalese pujaaris. 

Our guide Rajesh Kumar, the tourist police also told us about Raja Harish Chandra Dome, whose descendants are still living in the huge house. Even today, the family survives on the wood from Manikarnika ghat, which is a Shamshan Ghat or burning ghat, where Hindus get their last rituals done.

He did not forget to show us the famous Assi Ghat, from where PM Modi started his Swatch Bharat Mission. Earlier the steps were buried under the mud but now they are clean and people come and sit here. Even in the early morning the ghat is used for cultural activities. 
     
Soon, it was time for Ganga Arti. We took our seats at the VIP section. We were told by our hosts that even the Prime Minister Modi had seen the Ganga Arti from the same place. We felt privileged!

In my mind, I thanked my friend again.

I have witnessed the Ganga Arti a couple of times in the past. But sitting specially for it made a difference in my perception. I could see how young the pujaaris were who were doing the Arti. I could see how a variety of Arti, one with dhoop, the other with multiple diyas and one more is used with different recitations.

I was also surprised to see that the religious recitations were not recorded but a person sitting behind the pujaaris was singing whilst also playing the harmonium.

The whole ambience seemed to have transcended us to a different world, which was surreal and far away from the madding crowd. The experience overwhelmed my sister and tears started pouring down.

I understood what we gain when we get a VIP treatment. One gets time to feel.

It was now time for dinner and we had decided that in Varanasi we will be having local food with Banarasi flavour. Our good old friend Srivastava once again helped proved wonderful. He advised us that we go to Keshari Ruchikar Vyanjan, a restaurant about 100 metres away from the ghat.

The food was simple but yummy, especially Banarasi aaloo curry.

Satisfied, contended, happy, well looked after, and tired in a nicer way, we called it a day.

Next day, an early morning visit to Kashi Vishvanath temple was listed in our itinerary.

Another Lekkhpal, a quiet and disinterested one, accompanied us to the temple.

I remember that in my last 4-5 visits to Varanasi, as an ordinary citizen, I could never dare visit the temple, despite my longing. The long queue easily deterred me.

However, this was not the case this time. Peacefully we entered the precinct of the temple and I, it seemed for the first time, had a real darshan of Baba Bhole Nath. Touching the Shivaling was out of question as it is barricaded with iron bars. Yet, at least we could see it.

Feeling the presence of God, I am not sure. What I could feel and see were hordes of army men- anywhere you see in the temple, its their camouflage staring at you. They continuously keep patting every devotee to hurry up and give others also a chance - quite a mechanical way of worshipping, which at least did not infuse me with a religious feeling!

The solace was that it was my sister's wedding anniversary and she along with her husband started the day with a visit to Baba Bhole Nath. I saw God in her faith and happiness.

The 'must do' of Varanasi would not have completed if we had left the place without the unique breakfast, so ethnic to Banaras!

We all had some mouthwatering Lassi and some sumptuous Kachoris before bidding adieu to the oldest living city in the world!