Conclusions Paragraph

Through the use of imagery and figurative language, Hosseini communicates the deep-rooted cultural value of social hierarchy in The Kite Runner. In this particular passage, Amir attacks Hassan with pomegranates in order to get Hassan to fight back. Amir does this because of his own feeling of guilt towards Hassan, and his wish for atonement. It is indicated in this passage that Amir wants Hassan to hurt him, and thus to get even with him. After Amir begs Hassan to hit him back, Hassan crushes a pomegranate on himself, showing his unwavering loyalty towards Amir. This passage demonstrates strongly the relationship between Hazaras and Pashtuns, and how this relationship is a part of Afghan culture. This cultural value is made more evident through the use of imagery and figurative language. One example of this is on page 93, when Hosseini describes how Hassan looks after crushing the pomegranate on himself, “‘There,’ he croaked, red dripping down his face like blood”. In this quote, Hosseini uses a simile to compare the pomegranate juice on Hassan’s face to blood. This comparison is very meaningful, because it indicates how Hassan has been hurt. Blood is associated with pain and injury, so by comparing the pomegranate juice to blood, Hosseini shows the reader Hassan’s pain. This use of simile connects to the cultural division between Hazaras and Pashtuns because it shows the loyalty Hazaras generally have towards their Pashtun masters. Although Amir has caused Hassan a lot of pain, even before this scene, Hassan refuses to retaliate. Hassan, as a Hazara, feels he cannot hurt Amir, even if Amir himself begs him to. Hazaras have a strong feeling of inferiority in Afghan culture, and it is exemplified in this quote. Another way Hosseini uses literary devices to communicate the cultural division between Pashtuns and Hazaras is through the use of imagery. This is exemplified when Amir first throws the pomegranate at Hassan. Hosseini describes, “Next to him, the stapled pages of the story I’d promised to read him fluttered in the breeze. I hurled the pomegranate at him” (92). Here, Hosseini uses the image of fluttering paper and the image of the pomegranate being thrown to contrast one another. Both of these things are described vividly, and by having the two descriptions in subsequence, a clear contrast is created. The paper fluttering in the breeze is very soothing, while the pomegranate being hurled displays violence. This use of imagery to create a contrast connects to the relationship between Hazaras and Pashtuns because it shows the dejection of Hassan’s situation  as a Hazara. The image of paper fluttering suggests the beauty of stories and writing, which connects to the fact that Hassan is illiterate and must rely on Amir to read to him. The image of Amir throwing the pomegranate highlights the violence and tension of this scene, and connects to the difficulties Hassan must face. These two images combined are demonstrative of the inequality Hassan and other Hazaras are subject to in Afghanistan; they are not allowed an education, and must rely on Pashtuns, who often treat them badly. The figurative language and imagery used in this scene bring this cultural value into relief. No matter the situation, Hassan remains loyal to Amir, and this reflects a more general atmosphere in Afghanistan about the relationship between Hazaras and Pashtuns. 

Kite Runner Passage, Pages 91-93

The Kite Runner, Passage Seven (Chapter 8 – pages 91-93)

We had picked a dozen pomegranates from the tree. I unfolded the story I’d brought along, turned to the first page, then put it down. I stood up and picked up an overripe pomegranate that had fallen to the ground.

“What would you do if I hit you with this?” I said, tossing the fruit up and down.

Hassan’s smile wilted. He looked older than I’d remembered. No, not older, old. Was that possible? Lines had etched into his tanned face and creases framed his eyes, his mouth. I might as well have taken a knife and carved those lines myself.

“What would you do?” I repeated.

The color fell from his face. Next to him, the stapled pages of the story I’d promised to read him fluttered in the breeze. I hurled the pomegranate at him. It struck him in the chest, exploded in a spray of red pulp. Hassan’s cry was pregnant with surprise and pain.

“Hit me back!” I snapped. Hassan looked from the stain on his chest to me.

“Get up! Hit me!” I said. Hassan did get up, but he just stood there, looking dazed like a man dragged into the ocean by a riptide when, just a moment ago, he was enjoying a nice stroll on the beach.

I hit him with another pomegranate, in the shoulder this time. The juice splattered his face. “Hit me back!” I spat. “Hit me back, goddamn you!” I wished he would. I wished he’d give me the punishment I craved, so maybe I’d finally sleep at night. Maybe then things could return to how they used to be between us. But Hassan did nothing as I pelted him again and again. “You’re a coward!” I said. “Nothing but a goddamn coward!”

I don’t know how many times I hit him. All I know is that, when I finally stopped, exhausted and panting, Hassan was smeared in red like he’d been shot by a firing squad. I fell to my knees, tired, spent, frustrated.

Then Hassan did pick up a pomegranate. He walked toward me. He opened it and crushed it against his own forehead. “There,” he croaked, red dripping down his face like blood. “Are you satisfied? Do you feel better?” He turned around and started down the hill.

I let the tears break free, rocked back and forth on my knees. “What am I going to do with you, Hassan? What am I going to do with you?” But by the time the tears dried up and I trudged down the hill, I knew the answer to that question.