She no longer worried that people knew, with a single glance, the shameful secrets of her past. Inside it, she was an observer, buffered from the scrutinizing eyes of strangers. I understand that the backstories were a pre-requisite, but the blurb could have been worded better.Īnd the burqa, she learned to her surprise, was also comforting. Reading the blurb gave me a misdirection about the plotline, the protagonists don’t meet until after 50% of the story and I found that weird because the whole intention of it was to point towards the bond between them. While the first 3 parts are told in past, the last part is about the present. Laila had seen enough killing of innocents caught in the cross fire of enemies. And there had been enough killing already. The only thing I am sure of is that this is a wonderful book, a story of strong women in the face of adversity, and their own fight against the war. I have been thinking for the last 2 days if I have turned immune but I have no answers.

I don’t know why, and it is really troubling me. However, I did not feel as moved as I should have. And I had bought it only because I have started loving stories of human suffering, not in a sadistic way (please!) but in a heart-wrenchingly beautiful way. What does one expect from a novel that comes with extremely high reviews? A lot I must say, and in case it doesn’t live up to its reputation, it leaves you feeling underwhelmed. We’re all Afghans, and that’s all that should matter. Will they stand the test of time together? Hostile at first and later the only support to each other, their bond spans only a decade but runs much deeper than blood. Mariam and Laila come together under duress. Like a compass needle that points north, a man’s accusing finger always finds a woman. Learn this now and learn it well, my daughter. With the death of her brothers, when she thinks her life couldn’t get any worse, tragedy strikes and all that is left is fragments. Her Babi is her only support in the times that are worsening with each passing minute. Born on the night of the uprising against the Soviets, she grows up seeing her Mammy pine for her Mujahideen sons, wavering in and out of daydreams and depression. Life isn’t the same again.Ī generation later, the newborn Laila cries and coos in her mother’s arms. With no hope, she is forced back to the kolba only to find her world crashing down. Fed up and wanting more than just a few hours of his time every week, Miriam is devastated beyond repair when he shuns her, just like he did to her mother. Until one day when she decides to give him a visit at his house in the city. Born out of wedlock to the maid, the affair hushed up, Miriam never saw the grandeur of her father’s life. Her Babi is a hotshot businessman in the city, with 3 wives and 9 legitimate children. Just outside the city of Herat, on the way to Gul Daman, is her tiny house in which she spends her childhood and early teenage years. Mariam is a young girl living in the kolba with her Mammy. How quietly we endure all that falls upon us. I surprised myself this time, buying his 3 works together and delving straight ahead into this one.Īs a reminder of how women like us suffer, she’d said. Having heard great reviews about all his works, I felt a certain calling each time I came across his books but never were they strong enough to compel me into buying them. I had wanted to read the works of the bestselling Afghan writer for a long time now. One of those books was A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khalid Hosseini. 16 paperbacks delivered to my house just before my big day. I checked out all the books that I had wanted to read for so long and bought them all together. When we entered the 10th month of the year, the 8th effectively under the pandemic and my birthday month as well, I decided to take matters out of fate’s hand and do something. After months of agonizing that nothing is going as planned and my end of the 20s will not be as grand as I would have liked, I was heartbroken, naturally. But my plans were overthrown by the virus’s plans and I was left seething at home. It was supposed to be a remarkable year, I had big plans for it. Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.” “One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs,

No longer human kite