Thursday, August 30, 2007

Thousands Splendid Suns- A Review

Figure this- 2 women, a chronicle of 3 decades, and a stunning style of writing. This is what Hosseini provides us in his latest venture. A Thousand Splendid Suns is exactly what it tells you Splendid. Set against the background of not-yet-torn Afghanistan it begins with the story of Mariam, a girl living in her own world of beauty and some breathless awestruck moments spent with her father ; a world which is later shattered by her own misgivings or fate. Married of to a man who strictly adheres to the rule that women are not to progress she remains at various points in the book unhappy credulously astounded and amazingly shattered by the antics and behaviour of her husband. Here the story is cut short to Laila and Tariq and their childhood romance reminiscent of all our first encounter with love. This world is happily broken down when tariq moves to Pakistan leaving Laila alone with a moaning mother and a hapless father. However this torture too seems better than what she begins to endure when left orphaned by her a bomb and becoming Mariam’s sister. After this her whole life is set in the bonds set up alternatively by rasheed and the Taliban, that is till Tariq comes to her rescue. The book ends with all the special effects worthy of a movie with a murder and a trial that would shock the world at large.

Chronicling 3 decades of a Nation at reckless and yet an unassuming speed with all its implausible high and lows Khaled Hosseini has kept his word with us, a word that he had to give at the end of Kite Runner- of being a great if not the best Human Interest story writer in recent times. Stupendous in his style of hooking the reader and almost making the make-believe characters and the world real is probably one of the best attributes that one can applaud this writer of. One of the many migrant writers he makes us fall in love with Afghanistan almost making us belittle and curse the Soviets and then the Afghanistanis for fooling around and destroying a land so beautiful in culture and tradition. One can almost hear the pleas and the moans of the Buddha Monuments they were being torn apart. An intrinsic view of the Taliban rule puts all our thought process in limbo at the rate at which the rulers had wanted to take the country back in time. Imbibing this medieval attitude into the storyline and crafting it this well almost makes us compare Hosseini in the same league as Pamuk.

Any overwritten parts in the narration are looked over as one really doesn’t notice these overdrawn periods assuming them to be in sync and indeed necessary for the storyline to progress. If however something disappoints it is that pattern of writing doesn’t change. Thus one has this mistaken feeling of returning to the Kite Runner every now and then. However if that is the price we have to pay then this book or must I say an abridged version of the story of a country long forgotten by the world, is a read. If not for anything for but the heart wrenching emotions it builds up in you not for anyone but for a land and people who would have been at some other place hadn’t destiny had something else in store for them.

Death at her Hands

1 pair of windows,

A door of passions

2 hearts of love,

20 downing street

And you were born

2 pairs of hands and feet

Bobbing mahogany dark heads

Long inimitable hours of wait

Incomparable periods of morning sickness

And dreams were born

A new renovated house

Crowded groaning celebrations

Squealing tiny carriages

And moments of utter desperation

A family was born

Moments of Irrefutable hope

Followed by hours of Plunging despair

The small uttering of a powerful word

Followed by decades of happy bliss

Treasures were nurtured.

Small dreams Small Hopes

Concrete words and powerful gestures

The first fall, initial moments of malady

A flash of helplessness and the surrender to ecstasy

We were re-born.

Initial symptoms that tricked

Pain that turned into unchanging agony

Bliss that flipped to fear then paranoia

Worry etched in our lives

We still lived

Dreams turned to despair

Emptiness that took control

A dark looming future

That was changing our lives

And yet we clung on.

The hours of interminable hospital waits

The sickly pungent repelling odor

The monotone of white-washed walls

The pearly white bed with beeps

It was now life

Hours turned to weeks to months

Despair ever nurtured now family

Hope the elusive lantern at the tunnel-end

We waited, we hoped, we prayed.

Past never ceases present haunts

And the mist ahead serves to frighten

And yet a hollow world we aphorized

Filled with misery and pain

An unceasing wait to regain life

To Faint and yet live.

Life is but a series of pathways now

Its meaning lost in the labyrinth of mazes

A moving train to a nameless journey

A death more anticipated

We will be born again….