When my computer's processor overheated, I turned to my guitar to spend idle time, finger picking for more than five hours non-stop a day on average. The repetitive motion tore something in my left hand and pain gradually develops until I could no longer push the strings against the fret board without pain radiating from the tip of my finger up to my wrist.  Sighing, I placed my guitar, together with my busted computer on a corner where I could not see them and frustrate me everyday.

     With my desk free of huge computer monitor and peripherals, I have decided to stack my books in its place; stopping when I caught a glimpse on a picture of a boy peeking into an alley on the cover of one novel I had been planning to read before but was put aside (many times) until yesterday.

     The boy on the cover is dress exactly like me when I was of the same age, just like any twelve year old Filipino, stripe shirt covering a brown skin tanned by many hours of playing under the sun, khaki shorts and worn sneakers.

"The Kite Runner" was given to me by a kind and generous blog friend of mine together with three other titles, being the one less familiar to me, it was the last in my list to be read. But, after closing the book last night, I have experienced the true meaning of the adage "last but not the least"

I started to rekindle my appreciation in reading books only last year; I have so much to read with a pair of eyes nearing a requirement for a reading glass due to poor accommodation that it would take me about a week before I could finish a short novel. Pathetic, it took me a twelve hours, about three, if I haven't fell asleep, reading a super thin "Death of a Salesman," which could be read by an abler one in an hour, two at most.

But Khaled Hosseini, An Afghan born writer whom, shamefully, I cast aside in favor of the Irish writers, gave me something equal, if not surpassing my favorite, Frank Mc. Court of Angela's Ashes; A reason to smile, a character to cry with, and a story I will proudly recommend to those who are close to me… even to a complete stranger.

Mr. Hosseini gave me one more trivial thing, unbelieving; "I can read a 340 page novel in one sitting!" … Without falling asleep.

     The story is about two boys who grew up together in Afghanistan; both deprived of their mother's presence, both breastfed by the same hired nursing woman and both (I hate to write this so early) sired by the same man, Baba.

     As with some other countries, Afghan people have its own caste system and half-brothers; Hassan and Amir is victim of such. Amir, born within a righteous, legal marriage to a decent, much-desired teacher with royal blood, is the luckier of the two boys. Hassan, a hare-lipped boy born out of an illicit affair to a beautiful "Hazara" servant of dishonorable reputation, is the son that is loved by Baba just the same, if not more, but not in the open. Sanaubar, Hassan's mother, is married to Ali who is a childhood friend and servant of Baba.

     Hassan served as a loyal friend to Amir, careful not to overstep the kindness of his master. When three street bully led by Assef threatened Amir, Hassan aim his slingshot to Assef's eyes, determined to shoot, not until the bullies back off, threatening before leaving that they will get back at Hassan some other day.

     Many times, Amir would question his father's fondness to Hassan, especially when Baba took care of Hassan's medical condition, hiring a cosmetic surgeon to correct Hassan's hare lip disorder on his birthday. Desperate for his father's approval, Amir, with the help of his servant friend Hassan finally made Baba proud by winning a kite-fighting tournament. Hassan, proud of his friend's achievement run after the opponent's kite to give it to Amir as a victory present.

     The boy's triumphant day would also be the day that would change their lives. As imaged in its cover, Amir saw something in that alley that will be a turning point of their friendship. It would be selfish for me to reveal what happened during that winter of 1975. But I can tell you this, what happened there could happen to anyone, and it would affect us not knowing what it would make us after.

     Hassan, we will not know, but his loyalty and kindness to Amir was never affected by that tragic afternoon. The guilt is on Amir, who betrayed Hassan, and it never left him even after they went to America, escaping the war.

     Before Baba succumbed to cancer, Amir got married and eventually becomes a published writer. After many years, he received a call from his Father's former business partner and close friend whom he is very fond of, and knows everything that happened in the past, telling… "There is a way to be good again"

     Whatever "good" he could do by coming back to Afghanistan would redeem himself to his half-brother, to his father and to himself.