Chapter 17 - "Cherry Trees in the Sand" Part 1

It is incredibly hot and humid here, but at this weather that has been forced harshly upon New York City, I wonder what it feels like in the torturous Kashmir when bombs whirled down from the sky, described as a "whump" from India, as well as written as "shells." Poor victims like the two Batool sisters, Fatima and Aamina, suffered from the weapons of military combat.

"About the shell that landed then, just outside the mouth of the cave. Fatima has no memory at all. All she can say is that, after it exploded, her sister's hayaat, or spirit, was broken, and neither of their lives was ever the same."

I was never aware of the blood lust between Pakistan and India before reading this book. I mean, what's their beef? Then I started thinking about how close their territories are, and how the borders that separate them are hostile. What about the people that live, unluckily, where the LOC ran and the two fought? They were left with caves to hide under, but I'm guessing that was it.

Image from dismalworld.com

"A year earlier, Pakistan had stunned the world by conducting five successful tests of nuclear weapons."

Do you notice the subtle but clear word, stunned? There are two meanings that Relin might have been applying: stunned as in surprised at the murderous intents of the nuclear bombs Pakistan had, with much achievement, tested, or they were "stunned" when the tests were dropped onto sections of the world's lands--what a sadistic plan if so, with their bulging eyeballs traced with strained veins as they plunge into a pit of unexpected explosion! About the nuclear weapons, I faintly recall my sixth-grade history teacher informing us a bit on them; nothing much but an opinion-based morsel. This information may or may not be true, but she said how there was a pact made worldwide wherein nuclear weapons should not be used, and all sides that dotted along maps of our Earth had agreed to pull up their hands and drop--well, not literally--their nuclear capsules. She would mock this peace treaty, because "deep inside", she said, "every country knows that no one ever disposed their bombs, just incase the other hasn't." Everyone wants to sit firmly on the upper leverage! No one offers to be at the bottom of a see saw--well, maybe Sweden.

"Throughout the spring and summer of 1999, more than 250,000 Indian shells, bombs, and rockets rained down on Pakistan, according to GlobalSecurity.org. Such high rates of fire hadn't afflicted any place on Earth since World War II."

Seriously, what's their beef? Did a Pakistani "have a cow" (a quote from Bart Simpson) and the vegan Hindu was outraged by the offense?

"The answers weren't in the stacks of books piling ever higher against the walls and spilling off the shelves onto the floor."

Nuh uh, and Hermoine would agree with me on this one that books hold answers to everything; you name it, a librarian's going to find it!

"And to the west, the Rupal Face of Nanga Parbat, the greatest single unbroken pitch of rock on Earth, mesmerized Mortenson seen from this unfamiliar angle."

Wait 'til he views the world upside-down, or lay down on the rough cement of a vacant park, only to gaze up at the sky and feel like gravity is pushing you, diminishing your size until you realize you are only the googlelith creature alive, and of much insignificance behind the small eyes of your own world. It's amazing! The world looks so much better upside-down.

"'They must be in a big hurry,' he said, spitting a long stream of Copenhagen chewing tobacco Mortenson had brought him from Montana out the window, 'to become martyrs.'"

Alright, what is up with these Muslims and their fetish of spitting? It must be some form of a lower than low disrespect, because I have had horrible experiences with these saliva-spewing wanna-be badasses prowling the streets and chucking out a few feet of their personal matter. In example, when I was waiting for my best-friend (now former, because they never last) in her apartment streaming with Muslims and Indians from door to door, this young girl, who should really respect people who have the power to strike a crazy urge and sock her right in the nose (a.k.a. me, but I am civilized....) was leaning from the second floor over the fence that overlooked the lobby, and she gave a sneery look before narrowly missing the glob of her icky goo from where I stood. I mean, come on! Really? To a stranger?