a kite tale

Amir brings the jalopy to a slow stop and we sit in silence staring at the dilapidated house. We do not speak. The only sound is the soft tink-tink of the engine cooling under the sweltering Afghani sky. We are both lost in our respective thoughts as our eyes carefully study the old house flitting from window to window, from room to room. It’s like seeing a fallen Titan, a once mighty deity, a grandiose figment of our memory that fell from heaven and crashed into the dry earth engulfed in flames, and now… just a stinking rotting corpse. The house we once knew in youth destroyed by Taliban gunfire. The house Baba proudly built brick by brick, from a conceptual rough draft scribbled on a blueprint to later become the glorious envy of the neighborhood, now a ruinous heap covered in indiscernible graffiti. Shattered glass and splintered wood. The gardens we meticulously tended long ago overrun with dry yellowed weeds and dirt and strewn garbage.

I hear the creak of leather. Out of the corner of my eye I vaguely see Amir’s silhouette restlessly shift in the approaching gathering dusk. His voice sounds cracked and distant.

" Hassan, they say those who drink from the same breast are united as brothers. They say… there exists a kinship that not even time can break… ”

My eyes remain fixed forward. I cannot muster the appropriate words so I allow my silence to speak for me. Amir coughs and continues.

“ Hassan-jan, I need to tell you this… I must. I… I’m so sorry… for everything. I truly am. It is as though I’ve awakened from a dream - nay a torturous nightmare, and I now realize you have taught me everything I will need to ever know. You have taught me how to live. Through your eyes, in your heart, I have discovered blessed salvation.”

I swallow hard. I remain silent.

“ I…I don’t know what to say. Usually words come so very easily to me. All I’m asking is that you forgive me. I ask for your bakhshesh. Please, for fucks sake, forgive me Hassan-jan! I am sorry and I grieve and I hurt and I….”

Amir hunches over the steering wheel, his body racked with convulsive sobs. He punches the dashboard in frustration and angry guilt.

I see Amir's pain, it glows like a dull blue aura. I understand why he hurts. I have always understood Amir and I always will. I gently lay my hand on his shoulder. I feel his muscles slacken.

“ Amir-sahib. I could never remain angry with you. I forgive you Amir and things may one day be the same as they were but it will take some time. We will have to wait but it will be worth it in the end. I pause and Amir looks up at me with tears in his eyes. I meekly smile. “Remember, Amir-sahib… sour apples.”

“ So you forgive me?”

“ For you… a thousand times over.”