I need to get this out of my chest.

THE KITE RUNNER by KHALED HOSSEINI is one of the best books ever written. I am dead serious about this and I am not even half-joking when I said that I teared a bit at certain parts of the book. It may, at a glance, look like a non-fiction biography about Afghanistan and Taliban and the ethnic cleansing of the Hazaras, etc. Well..yeah. It is. But these explicit real-life details were interwoven into such a magnificent fiction that I don’t regret not reading my tons of literature texts. The fiction is a somber yet simply beautiful celebration of life. I love the book. And the fact that it actually managed to make me tear…means that the writer really have a knack of making words move people.

I would like to leave a few of the nice moments in the story. These lines strike a chord in me when I read them. And these lines…they made me think. And feel a little bit more. Or less.

Then his lips twisted, and, that time, I knew just what he was doing. He was smiling. Just as he had, emerging from his mother’s womb.
The swelling subsided, and the wound healed with time…By the following winter, it was only a faint scar. Which was ironic. Because that was the winter that Hassan stopped smiling.”

And that made me ask myself…would I ever stop smiling? Or have I actually stopped smiling? Since…the frowns are so much easier to deal with nowadays…

“Does it bother you enough to change your mind?”
“No, Soraya. Not even close,” I said. “Nothing you said changes anything. I want us to marry.”
She broke into fresh tears.
I envied her. Her secret was out. Spoken. Dealt with. I opened my mouth and almost told her how I’d betrayed Hassan, lied, driven him out and destroyed a forty-year old relationship between Baba and Ali. But I didn’t. I suspected there were many ways in which Soraya Taheri was a better person than me. Courage was just one of them.

How long can a man keep a secret? I have let out my secret. The one I tried to keep but you just seem to know. But the thing with secrets is that they keep appearing right into your faces. I have no more secrets with you. But you are my secret. When is it safe…to let you out?

“I’ll come back with your morphine and a glass of water, Kaka jan,” Soraya said.
“Not tonight,” he said. “There is no pain tonight.”
“Okay,” she said. She pulled up his blanket. We closed the door.
Baba never woke up.

Pain. It will end one day. Wouldn’t it?

But I think a big part of the reason I didn’t care about Soraya’s past was that I had one of my own. I knew all about regret.

I have always mentioned that I want to be understood. And one of the components of being understood…is for the other(s) to understand my past. Because my past makes up the person I am today. But I have to choose between you and you and you and you… Because…not many will readily accept and understand my past. Do you understand my past…Do you accept what I am now?

“She said, ‘I’m so afraid.’ And I said, ‘Why?.’ And she said, ‘Because I’m so profoundly happy, Dr. Rasul. Happiness like this is frightening.’ I asked her why and she said, ‘They only let you be this happy if they’re preparing to take something from you,’ and I said, ‘Hush up, now. Enough of this silliness.’”

(This part is one of my personal favorites.) And I believe the woman. I was damn happy ah! And in the midst of that brink of happiness, I was actually frightened at the same time. Because I felt that the happiness won’t last. The frightening thing was…it became true…but why…I have yet to understand.

I held him against me, held him tightly, and rocked back and forth. He wept into my shirt until his tears dried, until his shaking stopped and his frantic pleas dwindled to indecipherable mumbles. I waited, rocked him until his breathing slowed and his body slackened. I remembered something I had read somewhere a long time ago: ‘That’s how children deal with terror. They fall asleep.”

I don’t think only children deal with terror that way. I do too…

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