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And then I thought: Perhaps that is what it means to be a father - to teach your child to live without you. If so, no one was a greater father than I.



The other day Angie and I were discussing about The Kite Runner and the same wave of emotion I felt after reading the parts about Baba and Amir (father and son) swept over me. Perhaps I feel for it because there's just something between my dad and I that I can't quite reconcile right now. If anything, that's the kinda dad I'd wanna be. Crudely put, it's about teaching your kid to look right, left and right, and then cross; so as not to be cumbered by the rules of traffic and depending on the safety of the green man only to a practical extent. It's about raising your kid so that he or she doesn't feel indebted to you just because you're the parent. I'll never want my kid(s) to bear that burden. I'd like my kid(s) to grow up knowing I'm not owed much, because we often can never come close to repaying the labour of our folks. It is something that we'd only do well to pay forward, leaving a legacy with the upcoming generation and hoping it goes on.




“What about me Baba? What am I supposed to do?” I said, my eyes welling up.

A look of disgust swept across his face. It was the same look he’d give me when, as a kid, I’d fall, scrape my knees, and cry. “You’re twenty-two years old, Amir! A grown man! You…” he opened his mouth and closed it, reconsidering.

“What’s going to happen to you, you say? All those years, that’s what I was trying to teach you, how to never have to ask that question.”




Audio Candy:
Matchbook Romance - Your Stories, My Alibis

I'm On Sinking Sand, Gravity

Her dark, turbulent world was a canvas upon which she drew the brightest flowers and spun the most intricate of yarns. Then one fateful day, she found happiness, and the art finally died.



There was mambo night, and then there was some. Was I thinking? Now I'm back at the end of the line, losing control; there's no escaping gravity. On a side note, while the DJ was adventurous in trying to introduce That's Not My Name by The Ting Tings, the music transitioning did leave a lot to be desired.



When it does rain, it pours. So I found myself back at Richard's place, twice in 3 days. The first was when we had the PS2 gathering; DDR under the influence of alcohol should be quite fun. :] Anyway, there I was bunking over after mambo when I was really supposed to be 'overnighting in school for some faculty event', to spare myself the hassle of having to deal with the folks.

When I was a primary school kid, I started lying that I had remedial lessons so that I could sneak over to my friends' places where all the Sega Saturns and Nintendo 64s were. I feared that some unwitting classmate of mine would call to ask about homework while I was out, and I lived in mortal fear, on a regular basis for awhile, of the mental image of my mom answering the phone and asking him or her why he or she was home already while I wasn't, and then giving me a good one when I got home.

But that fear eroded after awhile, diluted and made insignificant by the many times I got away with it, as well as other things I regularly keep from my parents, especially my strict, traditional dad. I know many people, up to the young adults they are now, never ever get over this fear. Either that, or the guilt of the lie committed becomes too overbearing a burden to carry, no matter how small it is. It is like putting your finger very near the spot between your eyebrows, almost in contact but never touching, and leaving it there. A pressure that typically shouldn't be there takes form, and quickly becomes more than a niggling gnaw. Though I'm not proud to say it, I suppose I'm numb and past that already where the folks are concerned, where a white lie in place of a troublesome truth quickly suffices in an instant gratification kinda way.

"... there is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft. Do you understand that? When you kill a man, you steal a life."

"You steal his wife’s right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness."

In that restless morning where I did have a really random and fleeting dream of meeting Assef the sociopath from The Kite Runner, as the light crept past the curtains while lying on the living room sofa, I wondered if this'll ever catch up with me one day. That, amidst listening to the myriad of interesting morning sounds of the postman shoving letters rhythmically into metallic mailboxes, rusty trolleys rolling along and bumping up kerbs and the ringing of bells on dog collars amongst other lively noises, which come along with living on the 2nd storey.



Just drift. :]




Quidquid latine dictum sit, altum sonatur. (Whatever said in Latin sounds profound.)

Audio Candy:
Yung Joc Feat. 3LW - 'Bout It

For You A Thousand Times Over

Nothing quite beats the kinda private sphere one can achieve by immersing oneself in a good book. By 'good book', I mean anything that, well, pretty much simply floats your boat. The requirements are entirely determined by you, the reader, the self-interpretation of which makes it all the more personal.

The Kite Runner turned out to be one such book for me. Some parts were really tear-jerker worthy and I guess I'm not afraid to admit I teared while reading it. Also because it's something I hadn't really had going for awhile. It's nice to be reminded of the salience of one's emotions, especially since I'm well aware of my strong state of rationality.

The part where Baba tells Amir that his marriage is the happiest day of his life, and hobbles off to perform one last fatherly duty. Meh.

You also rediscover what matters most to you when certain ideas cry, scream or sing out to your heart.



The Kite Runner touches on an array of issues from religious, Islamic philosophy to politics and gender equality, at the same time employing pretty good literary techniques to further enhance the symbolic nature of the central theme of redemption, and is not devoid of the good plot twist every now and then. It was, at times, really pleasant to read and, at others, thoroughly engaging.



Sometimes, when I read a part from a story and the scene gets painted vividly in my head in an almost realistic, movie-like fashion, I wonder if I get the mental visualisation because the writing is simply fantastic, or if it appears to me this way because the writing has been fashioned after the effect created by cinematics, or if I interpret it so because I've been conditioned, by watching movies, that imagery has a specific form to it.




Better to be hurt by the truth than comforted with a lie.
- Khaled Hosseini

Audio Candy:
Stereophonics - Hurry Up And Wait