I turned thirteen that summer of 1976, Afghanistan’s next to last summer of peace and anonymity. Things between Baba and me were already cooling off again. I think what started it was the stupid comment I’d made the day we were planting tulips, about getting new servants. I regretted saying it—I really did—but I think even if I hadn’t, our happy little interlude would have come to an end. Maybe not quite so soon, but it would have. By the end of the summer, the scraping of spoon and fork against the plate had replaced dinner table chatter and Baba had resumed retreating to his study after supper. And closing the door. I’d gone back to thumbing through Hãfez and Khayyám, gnawing my nails down to the cuticles, writing stories. I kept the stories in a stack under my bed, keeping them just in case, though I doubted Baba would ever again ask me to read them to him.
anonymity匿名，无特色
interlude插曲
chatter饶舌，喋喋不休
gnawing令人苦恼的，折磨人的
cuticle表皮，外皮
in a stack一叠，一摞
Baba’s motto about throwing parties was this: Invite the whole world or it’s not a party. I remember scanning over the invitation list a week before my birthday party and not recognizing at least three-quarters of the four hundred–plus Kakas and Khalas who were going to bring me gifts and congratulate me for having lived to thirteen. Then I realized they weren’t really coming for me. It was my birthday, but I knew who the real star of the show was.
For days, the house was teeming with Baba’s hired help. There was Salahuddin the butcher, who showed up with a calf and two sheep in tow, refusing payment for any of the three. He slaughtered the animals himself in the yard by a poplar tree. “Blood is good for the tree,” I remember him saying as the grass around the poplar soaked red. Men I didn’t know climbed the oak trees with coils of small electric bulbs and meters of extension cords. Others set up dozens of tables in the yard, spread a tablecloth on each. The night before the big party Baba’s friend Del-Muhammad, who owned a kabob house in Shar-e-Nau, came to the house with his bags of spices. Like the butcher, Del-Muhammad—or Dello, as Baba called him—refused payment for his services. He said Baba had done enough for his family already. It was Rahim Khan who whispered to me, as Dello marinated the meat, that Baba had lent Dello the money to open his restaurant. Baba had refused repayment until Dello had shown up one day in our driveway in a Benz and insisted he wouldn’t leave until Baba took his money.
oak tree橡树
cord粗绳
I guess in most ways, or at least in the ways in which parties are judged, my birthday bash was a huge success. I’d never seen the house so packed. Guests with drinks in hand were chatting in the hallways, smoking on the stairs, leaning against doorways. They sat where they found space, on kitchen counters, in the foyer, even under the stairwell. In the backyard, they mingled under the glow of blue, red, and green lights winking in the trees, their faces illuminated by the light of kerosene torches propped everywhere. Baba had had a stage built on the balcony that overlooked the garden and planted speakers throughout the yard.
Ahmad Zahir was playing an accordion and singing on the stage over masses of dancing bodies.
bash重击，猛击
foyer门厅，休息室
stairwell楼梯井
mingle混合
wink眨眼，闪烁
illuminate照亮
kerosene煤油
prop支撑，支持
accordion手风琴
I had to greet each of the guests personally—Baba made sure of that; no one was going to gossip the next day about how he’d raised a son with no manners. I kissed hundreds of cheeks, hugged total strangers, thanked them for their gifts. My face ached from the strain of my plastered smile.
with no manners没有礼貌
plastered smile保持微笑
I was standing with Baba in the yard near the bar when someone said, “Happy birthday, Amir.” It was Assef, with his parents. Assef’s father, Mahmood, was a short, lanky sort with dark skin and a narrow face. His mother, Tanya, was a small, nervous woman who smiled and blinked a lot. Assef was standing between the two of them now, grinning, looming over both, his arms resting on their shoulders. He led them toward us, like he had brought them here. Like he was the parent, and they his children. A wave of dizziness rushed through me. Baba thanked them for coming.
lanky过分高瘦而难看的
blink眨眼，闪烁
loom over笼罩，围绕
dizziness头晕
“I picked out your present myself,” Assef said. Tanya’s face twitched and her eyes flicked from Assef to me. She smiled, unconvincingly, and blinked. I wondered if Baba had noticed.
twitch抽动
flick from sb to sb(眼神)从某人扫向某人
unconvincingly难以信服地
“Still playing soccer, Assef jan?” Baba said. He’d always wanted me to be friends with Assef.
Assef smiled. It was creepy how genuinely sweet he made it look. “Of course, Kaka jan.”
creepy令人毛骨悚然的
genuinely真诚地
“Right wing, as I recall?”
“Actually, I switched to center forward this year,” Assef said. “You get to score more that way. We’re playing the Mekro-Rayan team next week. Should be a good match. They have some good players.”
Baba nodded. “You know, I played center forward too when I was young.”
center forward中锋
“I’ll bet you still could if you wanted to,” Assef said. He favored Baba with a good-natured wink.
Baba returned the wink. “I see your father has taught you his world-famous flattering ways.” He elbowed Assef’s father, almost knocked the little fellow down. Mahmood’s laughter was about as convincing as Tanya’s smile, and suddenly I wondered if maybe, on some level, their son frightened them. I tried to fake a smile, but all I could manage was a feeble upturning of the corners of my mouth—my stomach was turning at the sight of my father bonding with Assef.
flattering way奉承，恭维
feeble衰弱的
upturn上升，好转
Assef shifted his eyes to me. “Wali and Kamal are here too. They wouldn’t miss your birthday for anything,” he said, laughter lurking just beneath the surface. I nodded silently.
lurk潜伏，鬼鬼祟祟地活动
“We’re thinking about playing a little game of volleyball tomorrow at my house,” Assef said. “Maybe you’ll join us. Bring Hassan if you want to.”
“That sounds fun,” Baba said, beaming. “What do you think, Amir?”
“I don’t really like volleyball,” I muttered. I saw the light wink out of Baba’s eyes and an uncomfortable silence followed.
“Sorry, Assef jan,” Baba said, shrugging. That stung, his apologizing for me.
“Nay, no harm done,” Assef said. “But you have an open invitation, Amir jan. Anyway, I heard you like to read so I brought you a book. One of my favorites.” He extended a wrapped birthday gift to me. “Happy birthday.”
He was dressed in a cotton shirt and blue slacks, a red silk tie and shiny black loafers. He smelled of cologne and his blond hair was neatly combed back. On the surface, he was the embodiment of every parent’s dream, a strong, tall, well-dressed and well-mannered boy with talent and striking looks, not to mention the wit to joke with an adult. But to me, his eyes betrayed him. When I looked into them, the facade faltered, revealed a glimpse of the madness hiding behind them.
cologne古龙
striking look迷人的面庞
facade(给人假象的)表面，外观
reveal a glimpse of the madness hiding behind them
“Aren’t you going to take it, Amir?” Baba was saying.
“Huh?”
“Your present,” he said testily. “Assef jan is giving you a present.”
testily易怒地，暴躁地
“Oh,” I said. I took the box from Assef and lowered my gaze. I wished I could be alone in my room, with my books, away from these people.
“Well?” Baba said.
“What?”
Baba spoke in a low voice, the one he took on whenever I embarrassed him in public. “Aren’t you going to thank Assef jan? That was very considerate of him.”
I wished Baba would stop calling him that. How often did he call me “Amir jan”? “Thanks,” I said. Assef’s mother looked at me like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t, and I realized that neither of Assef’s parents had said a word. Before I could embarrass myself and Baba anymore—but mostly to get away from Assef and his grin—I stepped away. “Thanks for coming,” I said.
I squirmed my way through the throng of guests and slipped through the wrought-iron gates. Two houses down from our house, there was a large, barren dirt lot. I’d heard Baba tell Rahim Khan that a judge had bought the land and that an architect was working on the design. For now, the lot was bare, save for dirt, stones, and weeds.
squirm my way through the throng of guests费力穿过一群拥挤的客人
I tore the wrapping paper from Assef’s present and tilted the book cover in the moonlight. It was a biography of Hitler. I threw it amid a tangle of weeds.
tilt使倾斜
amid a tangle of weeds在纠缠的杂草中
I leaned against the neighbor’s wall, slid down to the ground. I just sat in the dark for a while, knees drawn to my chest, looking up at the stars, waiting for the night to be over.
slide down to the ground滑到地上
“Shouldn’t you be entertaining your guests?” a familiar voice said. Rahim Khan was walking toward me along the wall.
“They don’t need me for that. Baba’s there, remember?” I said. The ice in Rahim Khan’s drink clinked when he sat next to me. “I didn’t know you drank.”
clink使叮当响
“Turns out I do,” he said. Elbowed me playfully. “But only on the most important occasions.”
playfully爱玩的，嬉闹的
I smiled. “Thanks.”
He tipped his drink to me and took a sip. He lit a cigarette, one of the unfiltered Pakistani cigarettes he and Baba were always smoking. “Did I ever tell you I was almost married once?”
tip his drink to me and take a sip
unfiltered未经过滤的
“Really?” I said, smiling a little at the notion of Rahim Khan getting married. I’d always thought of him as Baba’s quiet alter ego, my writing mentor, my pal, the one who never forgot to bring me a souvenir, a saughat, when he returned from a trip abroad. But a husband? A father?
ego自尊
mentor辅导员，导师
pal好朋友，伙伴
souvenir纪念品
He nodded. “It’s true. I was eighteen. Her name was Homaira. She was a Hazara, the daughter of our neighbor’s servants. She was as beautiful as a pari, light brown hair, big hazel eyes ...she had this laugh . . . I can still hear it sometimes.” He twirled his glass. “We used to meet secretly in my father’s apple orchards, always after midnight when everyone had gone to sleep. We’d walk under the trees and I’d hold her hand . . . Am I embarrassing you, Amir jan?”
hazel榛树
twirl使旋转
orchard果园，苹果园
“A little,” I said.
“It won’t kill you,” he said, taking another puff. “Anyway, we had this fantasy. We’d have a great, fancy wedding and invite family and friends from Kabul to Kandahar. I would build us a big house, white with a tiled patio and large windows. We would plant fruit trees in the garden and grow all sorts of flowers, have a lawn for our kids to play on. On Fridays, after namaz at the mosque, everyone would get together at our house for lunch and we’d eat in the garden, under cherry trees, drink fresh water from the well. Then tea with candy as we watched our kids play with their cousins . . .”
mosque清真寺
He took a long gulp of his scotch. Coughed. “You should have seen the look on my father’s face when I told him. My mother actually fainted. My sisters splashed her face with water. They fanned her and looked at me as if I had slit her throat. My brother Jalal actually went to fetch his hunting rifle before my father stopped him.” Rahim Khan barked a bitter laughter. “It was Homaira and me against the world. And I’ll tell you this, Amir jan: In the end, the world always wins. That’s just the way of things.”
took a long gulp of his scotch长长地喝一口酒
fainted模糊的，怯弱的
splash泼
fan煽动，刺激
slit切开，撕开
“So what happened?”
“That same day, my father put Homaira and her family on a lorry and sent them off to Hazarajat. I never saw her again.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Probably for the best, though,” Rahim Khan said, shrugging. “She would have suffered. My family would have never accepted her as an equal. You don’t order someone to polish your shoes one day and call them ‘sister’ the next.” He looked at me. “You know, you can tell me anything you want, Amir jan. Anytime.”
“I know,” I said uncertainly. He looked at me for a long time, like he was waiting, his black bottomless eyes hinting at an unspoken secret between us. For a moment, I almost did tell him. Almost told him everything, but then what would he think of me? He’d hate me, and rightfully.
hint at暗示
rightfully正义地，正当地
“Here.” He handed me something. “I almost forgot. Happy birthday.” It was a brown leather-bound notebook. I traced my fingers along the gold-colored stitching on the borders. I smelled the leather. “For your stories,” he said. I was going to thank him when something exploded and bursts of fire lit up the sky.
leather-bound皮质封皮的
stitch装点
“Fireworks!”
We hurried back to the house and found the guests all standing in the yard, looking up to the sky. Kids hooted and screamed with each crackle and whoosh. People cheered, burst into applause each time flares sizzled and exploded into bouquets of fire. Every few seconds, the backyard lit up in sudden flashes of red, green, and yellow.
hoot不满的叫声
crackle使爆裂
whoosh搜的一声
sizzle发出嘶嘶声
bouquet花束，酒香
In one of those brief bursts of light, I saw something I’ll never forget: Hassan serving drinks to Assef and Wali from a silver platter. The light winked out, a hiss and a crackle, then another flicker of orange light: Assef grinning, kneading Hassan in the chest with a knuckle.
hiss发出嘶嘶声
flicker摇曳，闪烁
knead揉捏，按摩
Then, mercifully, darkness.
summary
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Baba had refused repayment until Dello had shown up one day in our driveway in a Benz
I find the author tried his best to describe how extravagant his life was,the words are very descriptive with many details,like this time in a Benz.But I really not felt good whenever I met them,then I thought maybe the reason rooted in his first person narratives,which absolutely had its own advantages,but also lacked objectivity.This objectivity can only be fully achieved through the third-person narrative form. - *You don’t order someone to polish your shoes one day and call them ‘sister’ the next.” *
These words are from Amir's good pal,as a hint of the relationship between two relations,Baba and Ali,Amir and Hassan,is never equal.What makes friends be friends is exactly equality,soul to soul,heart
to heart.This is where the tragedy lies for their lives are doomed when they are born,which is irreversible and explained clearly in the very beginning.So everything with how Amir treating Hassan badly sounds reasonable and forgivable,after all he is just a kid,after all he truly regrets for what he has done at the rest of his life,and that's enough.
