雙語(yǔ)名著·The Kite Runner 追風(fēng)箏的人(7)

12歲的阿富汗富家少爺阿米爾與仆人哈桑情同手足。然而，在一場(chǎng)風(fēng)箏比賽后，發(fā)生了一件悲慘不堪的事，阿米爾為自己的懦弱感到自責(zé)和痛苦，逼走了哈桑，不久，自己也跟隨父親逃往美國(guó)。

成年后的阿米爾始終無(wú)法原諒自己當(dāng)年對(duì)哈桑的背叛。為了贖罪，阿米爾再度踏上暌違二十多年的故鄉(xiāng)，希望能為不幸的好友盡最后一點(diǎn)心力，卻發(fā)現(xiàn)一個(gè)驚天謊言，兒時(shí)的噩夢(mèng)再度重演，阿米爾該如何抉擇?

故事如此殘忍而又美麗，作者以溫暖細(xì)膩的筆法勾勒人性的本質(zhì)與救贖，讀來(lái)令人蕩氣回腸。

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Lore has it my father once wrestled a black bear in Baluchistan with his bare hands. If the story had been about anyone else, it would have been dismissed as "laaf", that Afghan tendency to exaggerate--sadly, almost a national affliction; if someone bragged that his son was a doctor, chances were the kid had once passed a biology test in high school. But no one ever doubted the veracity of any story about Baba. And if they did, well, Baba did have those three parallel scars coursing a jagged path down his back. I have imagined Baba's wrestling match countless times, even dreamed about it. And in those dreams, I can never tell Baba from the bear.

It was Rahim Khan who first referred to him as what eventually became Baba's famous nickname, "Toophan agha", or "Mr. Hurricane."It was an apt enough nickname. My father was a force of nature, a towering Pashtun specimen with a thick beard, a wayward crop of curly brown hair as unruly as the man himself, hands that looked capable of uprooting a willow tree, and a black glare that would "drop the devil to his knees begging for mercy,?as Rahim Khan used to say. At parties, when all six-foot-five of him thundered into the room, attention shifted to him like sunflowers turning to the sun.

Baba was impossible to ignore, even in his sleep. I used to bury cotton wisps in my ears, pull the blanket over my head, and still the sounds of Baba's snoring—so much like a growling truck engine—penetrated the walls. And my room was across the hall from Baba's bedroom. How my mother ever managed to sleep in the same room as him is a mystery to me. It's on the long list of things I would have asked my mother if I had ever met her.

In the late 1960s, when I was five or six, Baba decided to build an orphanage. I heard the story through Rahim Khan. He told me Baba had drawn the blueprints himself despite the fact that he'd had no architectural experience at all. Skeptics had urged him to stop his foolishness and hire an architect. Of course, Baba refused, and everyone shook their heads in dismay at his obstinate ways. Then Baba succeeded and everyone shook their heads in awe at his triumphant ways. Baba paid for the construction of the two-story orphanage, just off the main strip of Jadeh Maywand south of the Kabul River, with his own money. Rahim Khan told me Baba had personally funded the entire project, paying for the engineers, electricians, plumbers, and laborers, not to mention the city officials whose "mustaches needed oiling."

有一次拉辛汗管爸爸叫"颶風(fēng)先生"，這隨后變成遠(yuǎn)近聞名的綽號(hào)。這個(gè)綽號(hào)可是名副其實(shí)。爸爸是典型的普什圖人，身材高大，孔武有力，留著濃密的小胡子，卷曲的棕色頭發(fā)甚是好看，跟他本人一樣不羈；他雙手強(qiáng)壯，似乎能將柳樹連根拔起；并且，就像拉辛汗經(jīng)常說(shuō)的那樣，黑色的眼珠一瞪，會(huì)"讓魔鬼跪地求饒"。爸爸身高近2米，每當(dāng)他出席宴會(huì)，總是像太陽(yáng)吸引向日葵那樣，把注意力引到自己身上。

爸爸即使在睡覺的時(shí)候，也是引人注目。我常在耳朵里面塞上棉花球，用毯子蓋住頭，但爸爸的鼾聲宛如轟轟作響的汽車引擎，依然穿墻越壁而來(lái)，而我們的房間中間還隔著客廳呢。媽媽如何能跟他睡在同一個(gè)房間?我不得而知。要是能見到我的媽媽，我還有一長(zhǎng)串問(wèn)在1960年代晚期，我五六歲的樣子，爸爸決定建造一座恤孤院。故事是拉辛汗告訴我的。他說(shuō)爸爸親自設(shè)計(jì)施工圖，盡管他根本沒有半點(diǎn)建筑經(jīng)驗(yàn)。人們對(duì)此表示懷疑，勸他別犯傻，雇個(gè)建筑師得了。當(dāng)然，爸爸拒絕了，人們大搖其頭，對(duì)爸爸的頑固表示不解。然而爸爸成功了，人們又開始搖頭了，不過(guò)這次是帶著敬畏，對(duì)他成功的法門稱贊不已。恤孤院樓高兩層，位于喀布爾河南岸，在雅德梅灣大道旁邊，所耗資費(fèi)均由父親自己支付。拉辛汗說(shuō)爸爸獨(dú)力承擔(dān)了整個(gè)工程，工程師、電工、管道工、建筑工，這些人的工錢都是爸爸支付的。城里的官員也抽了油水，他們的“胡子得上點(diǎn)油”。