Kite chaser chapter 3

Chapter 3

It is said that my father used to be in Baluchistan, a Pakistani city .) With bare hands and a black bear. If this is a story about others, someone will tell you a joke. Afghanistan always likes to exaggerate things. Unfortunately, this is almost a feature of this nation. If someone boasted that his son was a doctor, it is likely that the child had passed the high school biology test. No one ever doubts the authenticity of stories involving fathers. Then, the three curved scars on Dad's back are evidence. I can't remember how many times. I imagined my father's fight scene, and sometimes even dreamed of it. In my dream, I cannot tell which is Dad or bear. Once larsin Khan called his father "Mr. Hurricane", which subsequently became a well-known nickname. This nickname is a real name. His father is a typical Pushtu man. He is tall, strong, and has a thick beard. His curly brown hair looks very nice and he is as unruly as himself. He has strong hands and seems to be able to pull the willow tree from its roots; in addition, as Racine Khan often said, black eyes will "let the devil kneel for mercy ". Dad is nearly 2 meters tall. Whenever he attends a banquet, he always draws attention to himself like the sun attracts sunflowers. Dad is eye-catching even when he is sleeping. I often put cotton balls in my ears and covered my head with blankets, but my father's snoring sound was like a booming car engine. He still came across the wall, and our room was still separated by the living room. How can Mom stay in the same room with him? I don't know. If I could see my mother, I had a long string of questions about how I was five or six years old in the late 1960 s, and my father decided to build a courtyard. The story was told by Rashan. He said his father personally designed the construction drawing, even though he had no experience in building. People are skeptical about this and advise him not to be stupid. He has to hire an architect. Of course, my father refused. People shook their heads and expressed their incomprehension of my father's stubbornness. However, when my father succeeded, people began to shake his head again, but this time he was in awe and praised for his successful method. The two-storey building is located on the south bank of the kabur River. The expenses consumed are paid by the father next to the maywan Avenue. Lasinhan said that his father alone undertook the whole project, and his father paid for the work of engineers, electricians, plumbers, and construction workers. Officials in the city also smoked oil, and their "Beard had to be oily ". It took me three years to complete the project, and I was eight years old. I remember the day before my father took me to the penaka Lake, a few miles north of Kabir. He asked me to call Hasan, but I lied that Hasan had something to do. I want my father to belong to me. Besides, on one occasion, Hassan and I were playing along the lake in Jakarta, and his stone jumped eight times. I tried my best and I could only dance five times. Dad looked at us. He reached out and patted Hassan's back, and even put his arm on his shoulder. We sat down next to the picnic table by the lake, and only my father and I were eating boiled eggs and meatballs-that is, meatballs and cucumber in the bread. The lake Cheng LAN, Bo ping as a mirror, the sun shines on the lake. Every Friday, there are always many families going to the lake to spend their holidays in the sunshine. But it wasn't a weekend. There was only us, dad and me, and a few tourists with long hair and beards. I heard they were called hippies ". They sat down on the dock, holding a fishing rod in their hand, and their feet swayed in the water. I asked my father why the people had long hair, but his father did not answer. He just snorted. He was preparing for his speech the next day. He looked at a pile of manuscripts and made some marks with a pencil from time to time. I took an egg and told my father that there was a boy in the school who said that if I had eaten the egg, I had to pee it out. I asked my father if it was true. Then I gave a sigh. I have a bite of cake. A yellow-haired visitor burst into laughter and patted another person on the back with his hand. In the distance, on the lake side, a truck hang around the corner of the mountain road, its rear-view mirror reflects the shining sunshine. "I think I have cancer ." I said. With the wind blowing those manuscripts, Dad looked up and told me I could get some soda on my own. All I could do was search for the suitcase of the car. The next day, there were not many chairs outside the courtyard. Many people have to stand and watch the celebration. It was windy that day. A podium was built out of the new building's door. Dad was sitting on it, and I was sitting behind him. Dad wore a green suit and a lamb hat. In the speech, the wind blew his hat down and people laughed. He motioned me to pick up his hat for him. I am very happy because at that time, everyone could see that he was my father and my father. He turned around and said to the microphone that he wanted the house to be more secure than his leather hat and people laughed again. At the end of my speech, everyone stood up and greeted me with applause. Then the guest shook hands with him. Some people touch my hair and shake hands with me. I am proud of my father and we are proud of me. Although my father's career is prosperous, people always say things. They said that Dad has no business talent and should study the law as he did. So Dad proved that they were all wrong: not only did he run his own business, but he also became one of the few giants in Kabir. Dad and racinhan created a gold-fighting carpet export company, two pharmacies, and a restaurant. At that time, people ridiculed his father and said that he could not have a good wedding-after all, he had no royal family, and he married my mother, Sofia akarami. My mother was well-educated and recognized as a lady in kaback, regardless of her character or appearance. She teaches classical French (Farsi, modern Persian) at the university .) Literature is the emperor's secret. This made my father very happy and always called her "My princess" in front of those who had doubts about him ". My father created the world around him as he wished, except for me. Of course, the problem is that the world in dad's eyes is only black and white. It is up to him to determine what is black and what is white. He is such a person. If you love him, you will be afraid of him or hate him. When I was in the fifth grade, Mullah, an Islamic class, gave a name to teachers, students, and scholars .) Fa Shula is short and thick. His face is full of acne scars and his voice is hoarse. He taught us how to learn about the five daily life of Islam: Reading, ritual, fasting, teaching, and Chao. Zakat is a religious tax, also known as the "poverty Tax", that is, the "life-based" religious tax ".) Benefits and greater responsibilities. He also taught us five weeks a day (five weeks a day in Islam, at dawn, noon, afternoon, sunset, and evening .) The complex ceremony, we want to recite the holy book. He never translated the scriptures for us and always stressed that sometimes the willow lines are used. We must read the Arabic words accurately so that God can hear them more clearly. One day, he said that drinking alcohol is a great sin in Islam, and those who drink alcohol will be punished on the day of the super day. There were plenty of people drinking in Kabir, and no one would publicly condemn it. But those who love to have a few drinks only dare not drink in public. Spirits are referred to as "Medicines" and purchased at specific "drug stores" and wrapped in brown paper bags. They put the bags together to avoid being seen; however, sometimes they are still invisible on the road, because there are many people who know what these stores are selling. We are upstairs, Dad's study -- the smoking room -- and I told him what fa Shula Maula said in class. Dad walked to the barrier he made in the corner and made his own whisky. He nodded while listening. From time to time, he took a sip from his glass. Then he sat down on the leather sofa, put down the glass, and held me on his lap. I felt like I was sitting on a pair of trunk trees. He took a deep breath with his nose and shouted out again. His beard seemed endless. I don't know whether I should hug him, or should I jump down from his knees with fear. "I know that you are confused by your school lessons and what you learned in your life ." He said in a thick voice. "But if what he says is true, wouldn't you offend people, Dad ?" "Well ." Dad bit the ice in his mouth and said, "Do you want to know what your father thinks about the crime ?" "Think ." "Then I will tell you," said Dad. "But first, you know one thing. Amil, the beards will not teach you anything valuable ." "Are you talking about Shula Mao La ?" Dad picked up the wine glass and the ice burst. "I mean all of them, those self-righteous monkeys, should peat their beards ." I giggled. It's funny to think that Dad is peeing on the monkey's beard, whether or not the Monkey thinks it is. "Apart from reading the sutra with your thumb, they can't read anything ." He took a sip and said, "If Afghanistan falls into their hands, everyone will have to seek truth and be blessed by the Lord ." "But it is very good to be a man of the law ." I hold back my laughter. "Genghis Khan is also good ." Dad said, "That's enough. I will tell you what you think about the crime. Are you listening ?" "Yes ." I said, I tried to tighten my lips, but the laughter came out of my nostrils and gave me a nose breath. My father looked at my eyes firmly. Just in this way, I stopped laughing. "I mean, talking to you like a man talking to a man. Do you think you can do it ?" "Yes, dear dad ." I whispered that, more than once, my father stabbed me with only a few words, which was amazing. We had a good time-Dad seldom talked to me at ordinary times, not to mention holding me on his lap-and I wasted it. "Good," said Dad, but his eyes are still skeptical. "Now, no matter what Mao said, there is only one type of crime. That is theft. Other crimes are variants of theft. Do you understand ?" "No, dear dad ." I said, I hope I can understand it. I don't want to disappoint him any more. Dad sighed impatiently and stabbed me again because he was not impatient. He always does not go home until the night falls, leaving me to eat alone, every time I remember clearly. I asked Alibaba, "Where is Dad? When will I come back?" although I know he is at the construction site, check it out and check it out. Don't you need patience? I once hated the child in his solitary courtyard, and sometimes even hoped they would all die with their parents. "When you kill a person, you steal a person's life," said Dad. "You stole the right of his wife as a female and took the father of his children. When you lie, you steal the right of others to know the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. Do you understand ?" I understand. When Dad was six years old, a thief slipped into grandpa's house late at night. My grandfather, a 10 thousand-person-admired judge, found him, but the thief cut his throat and immediately killed him -- taking his father away. At noon the next day, a local resident caught the murderer and found him from Kunduz, a northern province of Afghanistan .) The tramp in the region. Two hours before the opening of the afternoon prayer, the murderer was suspended on the oak tree. What tells me about this past is not my father, but lasinhan. I always know about my father from others' mouths. "There is nothing worse than theft, Amil ." Dad said, "If someone takes anything that doesn't belong to him, one life or one pie, I will give up on him. If I met him on the street, God would not be able to save him. Do you understand ?" I found my father was excited and scared to beat thieves. "I understand, Dad ." "If there is any god, I want him to do other important things, rather than watching me drink spirits. Okay, go on. After talking about so many ideas about crimes, I'm thirsty again ." I watched him fill his glass at the bar and thought, how long will it take for us to talk like this again? Because the truth is there, I always feel a little hate for me. Why not? After all, I killed his beloved wife, his beautiful princess, isn't it? What I can do is at least try to become more like him. But I didn't look like him at all. At school, we often play a game of sentences, that is, the poetry competition. The teacher who teaches the French class presided over the course. The rule is as follows: you recite a poem, and your opponent has 6 seconds to answer, but it must begin with the last word of the poem you have recited. Everyone in the class wants to join me, because at that time, I was eleven years old, and I was able to back out of AMAM (omarkhayya'm (1048 ~ 1122), the ancient Persian poet, represented as rubaiji (rubaiyatofomarkhayya'm ).) , Hafeiz (shamseddinmohammadha ~ Fez (approx. 1320 ~ About 1388), ancient Persian poet .) The famous mowlanajalaluddinrumi (1207 ~ 1273) the ancient Persian poet masnavi is his story poem .). On one occasion, on behalf of the class, I played and won the championship. I told my father that night that he just nodded and grayed out: "Good ." In order to escape my father's indifference, I buried my head and read the books left by my old mother. And, of course, Hasan. I read everything, lumy, hafeiz, and Sadi (moslehaldinsaadishirazi (about 1210 ~ About 1290), ancient Persian poet .), Maddo Hugo, rule Verne, Mark tweens, Ian Fleming (ianfleming (1908 ~ 1964), a British novelist, wrote a series of 007 novels .). After reading my mother's heritage-I never touched those boring History books, I only read novels and poems-I began to buy books with pocket money. I buy a book at a bookstore next to cinema Park every week until the bookshelves are no longer available and they are placed in a hard cart. Of course, marrying a poet is one thing, but a son who prefers to write his poems and books more than hunting ...... That's not what Dad wants to see, I think. Real men do not read poems-and God prohibits them from creating poems. A real man-a real boy-should play football like his father was a child, and that is something worthy of enthusiasm. In February 1970, his father suspended his work and flew to Tehran for a month. He had to go there to watch the World Cup because there was no TV in Afghanistan. To arouse my passion for football, he registered for me to join the team. However, I have become a burden on the team, either passing the ball or being stupid enough to block the attacking route of my teammates. My thin legs stumbled and ran on the court. The ball didn't roll to my feet. The more I shouted, the more I waved my hands on top of my head and shouted, "pass it to me, send it to me !" The more I don't see my teammates. But Dad never gives up. After the fact that he did not pass any sports talent to me was revealed, he began to try to turn me into a warm audience. Of course, I can do it, right? I try to make it as fun as possible. I am with him, and every time I am in Kabul, I am working in the city of Kandahar (southern Afghanistan .) When the team is playing, they yell. Every time our team is sentenced to a penalty, the referee will be cursed. But dad noticed that I didn't really mean it, so he had to give up and accept the tragic fact that his son did not like to play football, but was absent-minded to the audience. I remember a New Year. My father showed me the annual competition. The competition was held on the first day of spring and remains a national passion for Afghanistan. A skilled knight is usually sponsored by a magnate. he must win a slaughtered goat or ox in the melee, jump around the stands at full speed, and then drop it into the scoring circle. Behind him, another group of knights chased him and tried their best to win the cattle and sheep. On that day, the server guard shouted on the battlefield, hitting the ground, arousing heavy smog. The audience turned against the sky, excited and excited. The horseshoe was so shaken. We sat in the stands and watched the knights whining in front of us, and their mounts flew white. Dad pointed to someone: "Amir, do you see the guy sitting there, surrounded by many people ?" I said, "Yes ". "That's Henry Kissinger ." "Oh ." I don't know who he is. But at that moment, I saw a terrible thing: a knight fell down from the saddle, and dozens of hooves trampled on him. His body is like a doll, and he is pulled and pulled in the middle of the horseshoe dance. The horse ran past, and finally fell down, twitching, and no longer moved; his legs bent into an unnatural angle, and the huge blood was red. I burst into tears. I cried and went home all the way. I remember my father's hand holding on to the steering wheel. Hurry up and relax. What's more, I will never forget my father's silent speech when he is driving, and his dislike is full of words. That night, I passed my father's study and heard him talking to lasinhan. I put my ears on the door. "…… Thank God. He is healthy ." Said rasinhan. "I know, I know, but he is always buried in the pile of books, or he will be wandering around at home, as if he was sleepwalking ." "What then ?" "I am not like this ." Dad said with frustration that he was still angry. Rasinhan laughed. "A child is not a picture exercise book. You cannot paint your favorite colors ." "I mean," said Dad. "I don't look that way at all. The children I grew up with are not as good as they are ." "You know, sometimes you are the most self-righteous person I know ." Said rasinhan. Among the people I know, he only dared to talk to his father like this. "It has nothing to do with this ." "No ?" "No ." "What does that have to do with it ?" I heard my father move his body, and the leather chair was squeaking. I close my eyes and keep my ears close to the door. "Sometimes I look out from this window and I see him and his neighbor's children playing in the street. I saw them push him, take his toys, push him here, and beat him there. You know, he never fights back. He just ...... Lower your head and then ......" "This means that he is not violent ." Said rasinhan. "I don't mean that, Racine, you know ." Dad shouted at him, "This child is missing something ." "Yes, it lacks a mean character ." "Self-defense is not the same as mean. Do you know what is always going on? Whenever the children of the neighbors bullied him, Hasan always stood up and blocked them back. This is what I saw with my own eyes. When they got home, I asked him, 'What is the scar on Hasan's face? 'He said,' he fell. 'I told you, Racine, this kid is missing something ." "You just want him to find his path ." Said rasinhan. "But where is he going ?" Dad said, "a boy who cannot protect himself cannot protect anything when he grows up ." "You always over-simplified the problem ." "I don't think so ." "You are angry because you are afraid that he will not take over your business ." "Who is simplifying the problem now ?" Dad said, "Look, I know you have a good relationship with him. I am very happy. I mean, I'm jealous, but I'm very happy. He needs someone ...... Someone can understand him, because God knows that I cannot understand him. However, some things in Amil make me very worried. I can't tell it clearly. It seems like ......" I can guess that he is searching for a proper word. He lowered his voice, but it finally made me hear it. "If I hadn't seen the doctor pull him out of my wife's stomach, I wouldn't believe that he was my son ." The next morning, Hassan was preparing breakfast for me. He asked me if I had any troubles. I yelled at him and told him not to be nosy. As for the mean character, Racine Khan is wrong.