![]() I pray that my sins have not caught up with me the way I'd always feared they would. I feel the eyes of everyone in this corridor on me and still I bow to the west. I hear a whimpering and realize it is mine, my lips are salty with the tears trickling down my face. Hassan was the price I had to pay the lamb I had to slay to win Baba. There’s a God, there has to be, and now I will pray, I will pray that He forgive that I have neglected Him all of these years, forgive that I have betrayed, lied, and sinned with impunity only to turn to Him now in my hour of need, I pray that He is as merciful, benevolent, and gracious as His book says He is. Amir and Betrayal & Redemption (price, lamb, win). This is the real house of God, this is where those who have lost God will find Him, not the white masjid with its bright diamond lights, and towering minarets. I see Him here, in the eyes of the people in this corridor of desperation. I see now that Baba was wrong, there’s a God, there always had been. There’s no God but Allah, and Muhammad is his messenger. But it doesn’t matter, I will utter those few words I still remember: La illaha ila Allah, Muhammad u rasul ullah. Then I remember I haven’t prayed for over fifteen years. “I throw my makeshift jai-namaz, my prayer rug, on the floor and I get on my knees, lower my forehead to the ground, my tears soaking through the sheet. The higher purpose Hassan’s sacrifice serves is that Amir will get the blue kite. The higher purpose the lamb seems to accept is to feed the poor. You? You've always been a tourist here, you just didn't know it.” Amir interprets the lamb’s expression as a look of acceptance, and he transfers this idea to Hassan: Hassan, like the sacrificial lamb, seems to accept his fate. "That's the real Afghanistan, Agha sahib. Amir thinks that winning the tournament and bringing Baba the last kite would win his father’s approval and affection. He pointed to an old man dressed in ragged clothes trudging down a dirt path, a large burlap pack filled with scrub grass tied to his back. Why are you saying these things?" I said.īecause you wanted to know," he spat. And I would bet my first son's eyes that this is the first time you've ever worn a pakol." He grinned at me, revealing a mouthful of prematurely rotting teeth. Because when spring comes, it melts the snow one flake at a time, and maybe I just witnessed the first flake melting. Your parents hired workers to decorate the house for the fancy mehmanis they threw, so their friends would come over to drink and boast about their travels to Europe or America. A leaf in the woods, shaking in the wake of a startled bird's flight. You probably lived in a big two- or three-story house with a nice backyard that your gardener filled with flowers and fruit trees. “In his rearview mirror, I saw something flash in his eyes.
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