The book I just finished reading made for such a rewarding experience that I feel an inexplicable urge inside me to share my feelings with my iland friends. It filled my senses with such an exotic myriad of colours that I feel incapable of expressing most of them through words.
‘The Kite Runner’ is a spellbinding work of contemporary fiction that any literature aficionado would find enriching.

The book introduces a traditional Afghan lifestyle to the readers through the eyes of a ten year old boy. The reader is made to rejoice in his little moments of triumph and distressed at his little losses by a vivid narration weaved with juvenile simplicity. The little boy, Amir, who is also the protagonist of the story draws sympathy and sighs with his constant efforts to win the affections of his ‘Great’ father. He shares his confusions at what stops his father from being fond of him, from being expressive in his affections, depriving a child of what is fundamentally due to him- A Father’s love. Motherless from birth, Amir grows up in an ambience of opulence in his house. He shares his early years of childhood with their servant’s son, Hassan. Their innocent longing for each other and guileless love does not add up to ‘friendship’ in the eyes of society, a tag forbidden between unequals  in a deeply conservative framework. As events unfold Amir and Hassan are separated and the waves of time and circumstance distance them, forever. War ravages their home and homeland and father and son take refuge in an alien country, hoping to bury their individual pasts of shame and helplessness.

Settling into a land of opportunities life moves on for him. Here Amir realizes his long cherished dream of attaining proximity with his father and gets to know him from close quarters. The blossoming of the father-son relationship in the backdrop of immigration and war is so well depicted that it is bound to draw obvious flashes of empathy from its readers.

Youth beckons love for Amir and he starts off on his marital journey, already bereft of the reassuring shade that his father meant to him. Robbed of his blanket of strength and security Amir braces himself to face life and exorcise the ghosts of his past.

For that he has to make a journey to his homeland where drama unfolds. But, none of it seems surreal, even to the most skeptic amongst us. Amir in his month long journey to his homeland unearths his long-lost past and his exploits are far from exhilarating. He is forced to undergo pangs of remorse from his past. A past pregnant with cavernous secrets and untold truths. Life with all its brute force of unpleasant realities unleashes itself on Amir, testing his mettle every single moment. In his travels he discovers his true identity, his self and a courage which he thought never existed in him. He stands up to life and lets himself be counted.

He atones for past mistakes and makes good all wrongs he never protested or was too afraid to. He finally purges himself of his own guilt and along with him lets his relief and liberation seep into the consciousness of the readers. Amir’s journey in the process becomes anyone’s journey on the path of resurrection and righteousness. In a story which throbs with tactile interplay of emotions the reader too re-discovers himself and is driven by deeply buried reserves of courage and character within himself to stand up to the variety of challenges that life throws at him.

Khaled Hosseini has created a marvel of sorts with his vivid and uncomplicated style of story-telling in this book. The blend of raw, real emotions with sweet subtleties of life is so seamless that an avid reader cannot help but be enamoured. The detailing of life in pre and post-war Afghanistan inspires sanity to ponder the rationale of war and question the futility of violent extremism in the garb of religion. I, personally feel indebted to the prowess of the author in rendering such touching a human story, in its flow dropping hints to draw our own picture with his colours and spare a moment of thought for the ruins on which we stand today. A precipice which is no longer threatening, but a reality which is present and stark.



I am indebted to Swati for being of immense help and support in shaking me out of my "inactivity blues" on iland. This post is dedicated to her.

P.S: Swati, you mind telling me how come Writer"s Block can ail non-writers like me. Will you ??