追风筝的人是真实的吗 残忍而美丽的情谊:The Kite Runner 追风筝的人(35)

残忍而美丽的情谊:The Kite Runner 追风筝的人(35)  

One time
a bratty Hindi kid whose family had recently moved into the neighborhood told us that in his Hometown
kite fighting had strict rules and regulations. "You have to play in a boxed area and you have to stand at a right angle to the wind
" he said proudly. "And you can't use aluminum to make your glass string."
Hassan and I looked at each other. Cracked up. The Hindi kid would soon learn what the British learned earlier in the century
and what the Russians would eventually learn by the late 1980s: that Afghans are an independent people. Afghans cherish custom but abhor rules. And so it was with kite fighting. The rules were simple: No rules. Fly your kite. Cut the opponents. Good luck.
Except that wasn't all. The real fun began when a kite was cut. That was where the kite runners came in
those kids who chased the windblown kite drifting through the neighborhoods until it came spiraling down in a field
dropping in someone's yard
on a tree
or a rooftop. The chase got pretty fierce; hordes of kite runners swarmed the streets
shoved past each other like those people from Spain I'd read about once
the ones who ran from the bulls. One year a neighborhood kid climbed a pine tree for a kite. A branch snapped under his weight and he fell thirty feet. Broke his back and never walked again. But he fell with the kite still in his hands. And when a kite runner had his hands on a kite
no one could take it from him. That wasn't a rule. That was custom.
不仅如此，若有风筝被割断，真正的乐趣就开始了。这时，该追风筝的人出动，那些孩子追逐那个在随风飘扬的风筝，在临近的街区奔走，直到它盘旋着跌落在田里，或者掉进某家的院子里，或挂在树上，或停在屋顶上。追逐十分激烈：追风筝的人蜂拥着漫过大街小巷，相互推搡，像西班牙人那样。我曾看过一本书，说起他们在斗牛节时被公牛追赶的景象。有一年某个邻居的小孩爬上松树，去捡风筝，结果树枝不堪重负，他从三十英尺高的地方跌下来，摔得再也无法行走，但他跌下来时手里还抓着那只风筝。如果追风筝的人手里拿着风筝，没有人能将它拿走。这不是规则，而是风俗。
For kite runners
the most coveted prize was the last fallen kite of a winter tournament. It was a trophy of honor
something to be displayed on a mantle for guests to admire. When the sky cleared of kites and only the final o remained
every kite runner readied himself for the chance to land this prize. He positioned himself at a spot that he thought would give him a head start. Tense muscles readied themselves to uncoil. Necks craned. Eyes crinkled. Fights broke out. And when the last kite was cut
all hell broke loose.
Over the years
I had seen a lot of guys run kites. But Hassan was by far the greatest kite runner I'd ever seen. It was downright eerie the way he always got to the spot the kite would land before the kite did
as if he had some sort of inner pass.