Those thousand splendid suns

Last night, staggering through the couple of dragging, unforgiving hours past the uneasy midnight.I happened to finally find my way to the end of a shattering, nerve-stimulating story as I turned the last  page of this book-A THOUSAND SPLENDID SUNS by Khaled Hosseini. But it wasn’t until after a couple more of hours, that sleep finally found me. I woke up this morning, but something again stung my heart somewhere. I’ve read a considerable number of books now, but none left their echoing words , forced me to brood, made me sit-staring blankly .A  thousand splendid suns, however did!

The book, had no fancy characters, no flying broomsticks, no magic rings, no tattle-tale murder mysteries and no demented boy in his early 20’s ranting( or for that matter, lamenting) about his love-life, college-life or social life. Compared to the real deal, all of this sounds petty. Ridiculous even.

I think often and I think a lot. But now I see how  limited my perspective has been all along. I see people groaning and moaning, day in and day out. Why?  Because they recently had to suffer the trauma of a breakup? Or because they had a spat with one of their best friends? Or because they didn’t get to be the center of attraction at a party?Or because their parents don’t understand them at all? Or because they scored 19 on 20 in a test when the highest was a huge 19.5? AH! How I wish i could say that ignorance is bliss!!

The book depicted the upheaval in the lives of some innocent Afghan people when the Soviets attacked only to leave behind a bitterness that would later taste like candy, when the cataclysm struck, in the form of the Taliban. Sounds like nothing new, doesn’t it? It did to me too, but not after my eyes found themselves intently swallowing every blunt word, which, during that time, felt like pang of mockery hurled at me for taking this life, and all that it has to offer,  for granted, with utter thanklessness. I felt ashamed, guilty.

We hear quite often, and sometimes study about the ordeal Afghanistan went through (and in some way is still going through). But we take it all in our stride. We even crack jokes on them. But we don’t know. What is even more distressing is the awareness of the fact is this-we would never know.And the suns would shine away, unnoticed, uncared for, somewhere into oblivion.

Just today, somewhere near my college, I chanced to see the sorry shape that belonged to a 5 or 6year old boy. Barefoot, barely-clad, with a running nose  he hardly seemed to care about. I see many such sights,some of them worse than this, they are not so uncommon. Whenever I see people like this, the first thoughts that strike me are of pity and helplessness. But when I saw that child, I was surprised at what occurred to me at that moment! I was not filled with sorrow! I was thankful that he was privileged enough to be walking on both legs. Not all are. I was thankful that in spite of his clumsiness, he was able to freely breathe the fresh morning air. Not all are. I was thankful that in spite of the hardships his life might be filled with, he was alive. Not all are. And then, I was thankful again. For all that I have. For all that I am.

Looking at the bigger picture- the less welcoming reality, our problems seem like ants in front of mountains. When, for people somewhere, crouching or squatting in some  corner of a  dimly lit, smoke-filled brazen room, life is all about feeding themselves and their dying kids and  just being able to relish the light of another new day seems like victory, life is truly a miracle for people like us. I understand this now. And now worrying about things such as the number of Facebook friends one has, or whether your girlfriend/boyfriend called you up or did they break the daily ritual, or  whether your cellphone is better than your friend’s. All this suddenly seems funny, lame and wretched. For the moment, I feel happy and even curious, knowing that I’m gifted enough to be able to sit at leisure and admire the softness of the full moon’s light and enjoy the rays of the sun, cruel they might as well be, steering their way through the sky,falling down on my cheeks.