About kites and the sky

If there ever was a book that showcased the true essence of Afghanistan’s lost glory – then this is probably it. Debutant writer Khaled Hosseini, an Afghan himself, takes us through a journey of friendship, betrayal, shame, innocence and above all – humanity. What struck me as unique right away is his simple style of narration. Being a Rushdie reader myself, the subtle use of colorfully peppered verbose word play was truly a refreshing treat. It is through this kaleidoscope of varying hues, that Hosseini brings us images of a country on the verge of hardcore ‘Talibanisation’ while the warlords are brewing their pots ready to take over the land. It is through the eyes of young Amir and his childhood friend, Hassan, that we are taken across the gorgeous landscapes of an angelic land called Afghanistan.

The book opens with the narrator, Amir, a well bred Pashtun lad who has grown under the looming shadow of his giant of a father – Baba. It is through his idealistic ways of how life should be led, that Amir first gets an introduction to his role in the larger social context despite the fact that Baba does not think much of Amir given his lack of commitment to anything. It is in this sense of apparent regret, that Amir chooses to find an ounce of solace with his friend, Hassan. Hassan – another very important nugget of moral value who later on becomes the only reason Amir is able to redeem himself. Hassan, the Hazara, lives with his father Ali, the family servant. Amir and Hassan grow up amid lush green valleys of the countryside enjoying the many wonders their land has to offer. Their main priority is the kite flying contest which Hassan is an expert at. We are told that he is one of the best kite runners there is. The winner of this contest is the kite that survives the vicious attacks of its opponents and is brought back alive from the skies after the event is done with. It is his keen sense of instinct as to where the kite will land that never fails to impress an otherwise snobbish Amir who is still in the process of self discovery.

In this concoction of friendship and brotherhood appears a huge wrinkle by the name of Assef. He is a miscreant by nature who is a very mean and violent older lad. He is infamous for his brass knuckles which he uses to constantly threaten a more timid Hassan and Amir. As things turn out, Assef becomes a pivotal point in the story’s narration when, after the kite flying contest, on realizing that Hassan has not yet returned with his winning kite, Amir goes looking for him. In one of the dark and silent alleys where no human eye would rove, Amir is shocked to see Assef brutally raping Hassan along with a few other lads. Despite the obvious shame in this heinous event, Amir isn’t mature enough to actually come to terms with this ghastly episode. Their friendship suffers immensely after this as Amir, despite knowing that he could have saved his friend, stood stunned in silence as the violent act was committed. Without being able to come to terms with his guilt, Amir decides to label Hassan a thief and gets rid of him from their house. This, despite what Hassan had told him time and again - 'For you, a thousand times over...' It is in that deep seeded honesty that Hassan is born with, that Amir finds it impossible to see him in the eye anymore.

The story then takes a fresh look at Amir’s life after this incident. As Amir and Baba escape out of a Taliban controlled Afghanistan, Amir never forgets about Hassan and what he did to him. The father and son head to the United States where Amir starts a new life and grows up becoming an American each day. But nothing makes him forget what happened in that alley that dark day after that thumping victory in the kite contest.

Time rolls on as Amir finds a new lease of life in the United States. He finds love, in Soraya, an Afghan woman who lives in California. It is after this, that Amir runs into Rahim Khan – the guardian of their family, who tells him what happened to Hassan after they left. A truth that prepares Amir to return to his land of redemption – to his Afghanistan.

Hosseini’s book is more about well placed surprises than anything else. And these come wonderfully at regular intervals keeping the goings on riveting. While the plot itself seems to be made for a movie, which it did become eventually, I don’t think the justice that is done to such a wonderful tale can ever be seriously translated to celluloid. There is a little ounce of that extra something, that additional drop of sensitivity that words carry, which is almost impossible to portray on film. It is in this sense of extremely delicate portrayal of the innocence of humanity, that Hosseini scores the most.

‘The Kite Runner’, according to me, is a classic. It has all the ingredients of a delightful story told from the eyes of an anti-Hero who is out to seek his redemption. A tale that is truly relevant in times that demand a little bit of soul searching in all of us. And for that, I'd recommend it - 'a thousand times over...'

..ShaKri..

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A film script, perhaps

It was by sheer accident that I ended up reading ‘The 3 mistakes of my life’. Someone had given my brother this book and he hadn’t gotten around to reading it. So, last summer while in India, I found it lying around and so I decided to give it a look see. Now, I had never actually heard of Chetan Bhagat before this so I wasn’t even sure what to expect. And so I began thumbing the pages of this piece.

The premise was simple and the language was plain. There was nothing, how do I put this, ‘novel like’, in this book as such. It was like a really lengthy blog piece that almost anyone could have written had there been a structure and a plot given. It had all the delicious elements – friendship, cricket, love, romance, sex, betrayal, politics, religion, violence…oh you name it. Add a rain drenched heroine and a lost mother looking for the other twin son of hers and boom! You have yourself a Manmohan Desai style movie! I wasn’t too thrilled with the extremely casual vocabulary either. Now I say this cautiously but with two vital reasons – one, because I have actually been closely acquainted with down to earth English with Sir RK Narayan’s books. No one can come close to document a small town’s simple life with the tongue in cheek humor like he used to. Or for that matter Mr. Ruskin Bond’s delightfully poignant, sometimes amusing, tales from hilly Darjeeling or Dun. So yes, I do know good writing when I see one. Somehow, this piece came off as a work that was, well, written for a Bollywood potboiler. Maybe it was then that I started reading more about this Bhagat person, and I realized that most of his other works (‘Call Center’ and ‘Five point someone’) were aimed at being just that – script like in their approach. 

So we have the writer himself – Bhagat – gets a message from one Govind, a young man from Gujarat who is about to commit suicide. This sends a shiver down the writer’s spine as he desperately tries to get hold of this boy. He eventually does and makes him spill out the truth about why someone so young like him would want to attempt such a heinous crime. What follows is Govind’s narration of what happened to him that led him to take this step.

The tale essentially revolves around three friends (a trend that became popular after ‘Dil Chahta Hai’ become a blockbuster) – Govind, Omi and Ishant. Govind is a fatherless chap who wants to start a business and in quintessential Gujarati fashion is plotting of ways to make some extra moolah. Ish, short for Ishant, is a cricket fanatic who forgets to even wear clothes whenever a match is being telecast. Omi, the more subdued of the three, is a pro-Hindu lad who has an immensely political uncle called Bittoo Mama. So, with the help of some interesting business moves, the trio actually manages to open a cricket goods shop next to the temple that is managed by this portly Bittoo Mama. As time flows by, a little boy named Ali, comes into this assorted array of personalities. Apparently Ali is a master batsman who suffers from a disorder that makes him extremely attentive to a cricket ball. So much so that he just has to whack a sixer off of each one regardless of how it is bowled. Alright, so let us assume this is a realistic premise. Now seeing this, Ish takes the boy under his wings and starts to train him up. In fact they even manage to sneak into an India-Australia match and befriend an Australian cricketer! Hang on, there is more. And this Australian actually sponsors the tickets and visa for these boys – remember, out of no major affection except to see the young Ali perform – and takes them to Sydney. Wait, there is still a little bit left. And there, despite intense coaxing from the officials to get Ali to become a legal resident, the boy refuses saying he will only play for India and no other country. Did I forget to add the word ‘jingoism’ to the list above? Add to this the fact that Govind has secretly fallen for Ish’s sister Vidya and even, ahem, ended up having sex with her right on her house’s roof top and you have a yummy cuisine ready to be consumed.

It is in bizarre sequences like this that the story just fell apart for me. I am as much a fan of contemporary Indian writing as the next guy. But this was just too hypothetical to even fathom. What turns out eventually happens to be a mishmash of male bonding juxtaposed against the backdrop of religious backbiting that ends up threatening little Ali’s life. Of course, the religious leader Bittoo Mama comes out to play a very important role in the climax. 

I appreciate Bhagat’s attempt at trying to showcase the confusion with which today’s youth in India are shivering in their placid moments of instant gratification. But somehow a lot of it started becoming predictable for me once the clichés of ‘Bollywood’ style masala in terms of action and violence began taking place. Had the focus been more on the sensitivities of human drama rather than the loud and garish portrayal of Indian society, I might have enjoyed it better. But then, there are always other opportunities aren’t there? Both for the reader, and definitely for the writer.

..ShaKri..

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