the kite runner-第84章

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It　hit　me　again；　the　enormity　of　what　I　had　done　that　winter　and　that　following　summer。　The　names　rang　in　my　head：　Hassan；　Sohrab；　Ali；　Farzana；　and　Sanaubar。　Hearing　Rahim　Khan　speak　Ali　s　name　was　like　finding　an　old　dusty　music　box　that　hadn　t　been　opened　in　years；　the　melody　began　to　play　immediately：　Who　did　you　eat　today；　Babalu？　Who　did　you　eat；　you　slant…eyed　Babalu？　I　tried　to　conjure　Ali　s　frozen　face；　to　really　see　his　tranquil　eyes；　but　time　can　be　a　greedy　thing……sometimes　it　steals　all　the　details　for　itself。
　Is　Hassan　still　in　that　house　now？　　I　asked。
Rahim　Khan　raised　the　teacup　to　his　parched　lips　and　took　a　sip。　He　then　fished　an　envelope　from　the　breast　pocket　of　his　vest　and　handed　it　to　me。　　For　you。　
I　tore　the　sealed　envelope。　Inside；　I　found　a　Polaroid　photograph　and　a　folded　letter。　I　stared　at　the　photograph　for　a　full　minute。
A　tall　man　dressed　in　a　white　turban　and　a　green…striped　chapan　stood　with　a　little　boy　in　front　of　a　set　of　wrought…iron　gates。　Sunlight　slanted　in　from　the　left；　casting　a　shadow　on　half　of　his　rotund　face。　He　was　squinting　and　smiling　at　the　camera；　showing　a　pair　of　missing　front　teeth。　Even　in　this　blurry　Polaroid；　the　man　in　the　chapan　exuded　a　sense　of　self…assuredness；　of　ease。　It　was　in　the　way　he　stood；　his　feet　slightly　apart；　his　arms　fortably　crossed　on　his　chest；　his　head　titled　a　little　toward　the　sun。　Mostly；　it　was　in　the　way　he　smiled。　Looking　at　the　photo；　one　might　have　concluded　that　this　was　a　man　who　thought　the　world　had　been　good　to　him。　Rahim　Khan　was　right：　I　would　have　recognized　him　if　I　had　bumped　into　him　on　the　street。　The　little　boy　stood　bare　foot；　one　arm　wrapped　around　the　man　s　thigh；　his　shaved　head　resting　against　his　father　s　hip。　He　too　was　grinning　and　squinting。
I　unfolded　the　letter。　It　was　written　in　Farsi。　No　dots　were　omitted；　no　crosses　forgotten；　no　words　blurred　together……the　handwriting　was　almost　childlike　in　its　neatness。　I　began　to　read：
In　the　name　of　Allah　the　most　beneficent；　the　most　merciful；　Amir　agha；　with　my　deepest　respects；
Farzana　jan；　Sohrab；　and　I　pray　that　this　latest　letter　finds　you　in　good　health　and　in　the　light　of　Allah　s　good　graces。　Please　offer　my　warmest　thanks　to　Rahim
Khan　sahib　for　carrying　it　to　you。　I　am　hopeful　that　one　day　I　will　hold　one　of　your　letters　in　my　hands　and　read　of　your　life　in　America。　Perhaps　a　photograph　of　you　will　even　grace　our　eyes。　I　have　told　much　about　you　to　Farzana　jan　and　Sohrab；　about　us　growing　up　together　and　playing　games　and　running　in　the　streets。　They　laugh　at　the　stories　of　all　the　mischief　you　and　I　used　to　cause！
Amir　agha；
Alas　the　Afghanistan　of　our　youth　is　long　dead。　Kindness　is　gone　from　the　land　and　you　cannot　escape　the　killings。　Always　the　killings。　In　Kabul；　fear　is　everywhere；　in　the　streets；　in　the　stadium；　in　the　markets；　it　is　a　part　of　our　lives　here；　Amir　agha。　The　savages　who　rule　our　watan　don　t　care　about　human　decency。　The　other　day；　I　acpanied　Farzana　Jan　to　the　bazaar　to　buy　some　potatoes　and　_naan_。　She　asked　the　vendor　how　much　the　potatoes　cost；　but　he　did　not　hear　her；　I　think　he　had　a　deaf　ear。　So　she　asked　louder　and　suddenly　a　young　Talib　ran　over　and　hit　her　on　the　thighs　with　his　wooden　stick。　He　struck　her　so　hard　she　fell　down。　He　was　screaming　at　her　and　cursing　and　saying　the　Ministry　of　Vice　and　Virtue　does　not　allow　women　to　speak　loudly。　She　had　a　large　purple　bruise　on　her　leg　for　days　but　what　could　I　do　except　stand　and　watch　my　wife　get　beaten？　If　I　fought；　that　dog　would　have　surely　put　a　bullet　in　me；　and　gladly！　Then　what　would　happen　to　my　Sohrab？　The　streets　are　full　enough　already　of　hungry　orphans　and　every　day　I　thank　Allah　that　I　am　alive；　not　because　I　fear　death；　but　because　my　wife　has　a　husband　and　my　son　is　not　an　orphan。
I　wish　you　could　see　Sohrab。　He　is　a　good　boy。　Rahim　Khan　sahib　and　I　have　taught　him　to　read　and　write　so　he　does　not　grow　up　stupid　like　his　father。　And　can　he　shoot　with　that　slingshot！　I　take　Sohrab　around　Kabul　sometimes　and　buy　him　candy。　There　is　still　a　monkey　man　in　Shar…e　Nau　and　if　we　run　into　him；　I　pay　him