He Knew I Had Betrayed Him and Yet He Was Rescuing Me Once Again
The betrayal of a loyal friend by a wealthier, more corrupt "main" is a recurring motif in The Kite Runner, and Amir and Baba's feelings of guilt for their betrayals drive much of the novel's action. The central betrayal comes when Amir watches and does nothing equally Hassan, who has always stood upward for Amir in the past, gets raped by Assef. Amir then worsens the betrayal by driving Ali and Hassan from the household. Later in the volume, Amir learns that Baba as well betrayed his own all-time friend and retainer – Ali, Hassan's father – past fathering a kid (Hassan) with Ali'southward married woman Sanaubar. This knowledge comes as another kind of betrayal for Amir, who had ever hero-worshipped Baba and is shocked to learn of his begetter's flaws.
These low points in the two men's lives create a sense of tension and guilt throughout the novel, but the betrayals of Amir and Baba as well lead to quests for redemption that bring about some good in the finish – every bit Baba leads a principled, charitable life, and Amir rescues Sohrab from Assef.
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Betrayal Quotes in The Kite Runner
Beneath yous will observe the important quotes in The Kite Runner related to the theme of Betrayal.
That was a long time ago, just it'southward incorrect what they say most the past, I've learned, about how you tin bury it. Because the by claws its style out. Looking back at present, I realize I take been peeking into that deserted aisle for the concluding xx-6 years.
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Because the truth of it was, I ever felt similar Baba hated me a little. And why not? Later on all, I had killed his beloved wife, his beautiful princess, hadn't I? The least I could have done was to have had the decency to accept turned out a footling more similar him. But I hadn't turned out like him.
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The curious thing was, I never thought of Hassan and me as friends either… Never mind that nosotros spent entire winters flight kites, running kites. Never heed that to me, the face up of Transitional islamic state of afghanistan is that of a male child with a thin-boned frame… a male child with Chinese doll face perpetually lit by a harelipped grin. Never mind any of these things. Because history isn't easy to overcome. Neither is religion. In the end, I was a Pashtun and he was a Hazara, I was Sunni and he was Shi'a, and nothing was ever going to alter that.
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He stopped, turned. He cupped his hands effectually his mouth. "For y'all a g times over!" he said. Then he smiled his Hassan smile and disappeared around the corner. The next time I saw him grinning unabashedly like that was twenty-six years later, in a faded Polaroid photo.
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"But before y'all sacrifice yourself for him, think nigh this: Would he do the aforementioned for yous? Have you e'er wondered why he never includes you in games when he has guests? Why he merely plays with you when no ane else is around? I'll tell you lot why, Hazara. Because to him, yous're zip but an ugly pet…"
"Amir agha and I are friends," Hassan said.
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In the end, I ran.
I ran because I was a coward. I was agape of Assef and what he would do to me… I actually aspired to cowardice, because the culling, the real reason I was running, was that Assef was right: Nothing was free in this world. Maybe Hassan was the price I had to pay, the lamb I had to slay, to win Baba. Was it a off-white toll? The reply floated to my conscious mind earlier I could thwart information technology: He was merely a Hazara, wasn't he?
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I thought almost Hassan'due south dream, the one about u.s. swimming in the lake. At that place is no monster, he'd said, simply water. Except he'd been wrong virtually that. There was a monster in the lake… I was that monster.
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I flinched, similar I'd been slapped… Then I understood: This was Hassan's final sacrifice for me… And that led to another agreement: Hassan knew. He knew I'd seen everything in that alley, that I'd stood there and done nothing. He knew I had betrayed him and yet he was rescuing me once once more, possibly for the last time.
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In the morning, Jalaluddin… would probably think we'd gone out for a stroll or a drive. We hadn't told him. You couldn't trust anyone in Kabul anymore – for a fee or nether threat, people told on each other, neighbor on neighbor, child on parent, blood brother on brother, servant on master, friend on friend.
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Long before the Roussi army marched into Afghanistan, long before villages were burned and schools destroyed… Kabul had become a urban center of ghosts for me. A city of harelipped ghosts.
America was different. America was a river, roaring along, unmindful of the past. I could wade into this river, permit my sins drown to the bottom, let the waters carry me someplace far. Someplace with no ghosts, no memories, and no sins.
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I envied her. Her secret was out. Spoken. Dealt with. I opened my oral cavity and about told her how I'd betrayed Hassan, lied, driven him out, and destroyed a forty-year relationship between Baba and Ali. Merely I didn't.
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As I drove, I wondered why I was dissimilar. Maybe it was because I had been raised by men; I hadn't grown up around women and had never been exposed firsthand to the double standard with which Afghan society sometimes treated them… But I think a big function of the reason I didn't care about Soraya'south by was that I had 1 of my ain. I knew all most regret.
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My suspicions had been right all those years. He knew near Assef, the kite, the money, the lookout man with the lightning bolt hands. He had e'er known.
Come. There is a way to be good over again, Rahim Khan had said on the telephone only before hanging up.
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Every bit it turned out, Baba and I were more than akin than I'd ever known. We had both betrayed the people who would have given their lives for us. And with that came this realization: that Rahim Khan had summoned me hither to atone non but for my sins only for Baba'southward likewise.
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Another rib snapped, this time lower. What was so funny was that, for the first fourth dimension since the winter of 1975, I felt at peace. I laughed because I saw that, in some hidden nook in the corner of my listen, I'd even been looking forrard to this… My body was broken – only how badly I wouldn't observe out until later – merely I felt healed.
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I loved him considering he was my friend, but also considering he was a adept human, perchance even a smashing man. And this is what I want y'all to understand, that good, real good, was born out of your begetter'southward remorse. Sometimes, I think everything he did, feeding the poor on the streets, building the orphanage, giving money to friends in need, information technology was all his way of redeeming himself. And that, I believe, is what true redemption is, Amir january, when guilt leads to practiced.
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Your father, like you, was a tortured soul, Rahim Khan had written. Maybe so. Nosotros had both sinned and betrayed. But Baba had found a way to create proficient out of his remorse. What had I washed, other than take my guilt out on the very same people I had betrayed, and so endeavour to forget it all?
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"Sohrab, I can't give you your one-time life dorsum, I wish to God I could. But I can take you with me. That was what I was coming in the bathroom to tell you. You have a visa to go to America, to live with me and my wife. Information technology's truthful. I promise."
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