Conclusion

Khaled Hosseini uses symbolism and imagery in his book, A Thousand Splendid Suns to demonstrate the impact of wartime on the innocent people of Afghanistan. Hosseini uses symbolism to represent the sound of the constant bombs as they fall. When Laila and Tariq are together, they hear the whistling in which Tariq expresses his frustration, "'It's the whistling,' Laila said to Tariq, 'the damn whistling, I hate more than anything'" (173). Although people cannot agree on a form of government, the "whistling" that often occurs leaves people feeling anxious of who will survive and who will not. The effects on children growing up during wartime forces them to experience things that may cause nightmares or other mental issues due to seeing dead bodies everywhere, people being exploded, and the many loose limbs that scatter the ground. They are forced to adapt to these conditions and somehow see this as normality. Citizens are killed as a result of a political party's so called way of protecting the people. People not only live in fear of political leaders, but also in fear of whether today would be their last day. Hosseini further develops the impact of wartime through his use of imagery, Laila listens to the, "rattling of automatic gunfire and counted the rockets whining overhead as the house shook and flakes of plaster rained down on her from the ceiling" (174). By using the words "rattling" and "whining" the reader is able to connect themselves by envisioning the sounds Laila hears daily. The words "shook" and "flakes of plaster rained" help the reader visualize the impact of the war on a house that isn't even being hit by any weapons. The reader can picture a shaking house with plaster dust falling off the walls and ceilings while the sound of a rocket is being heard. Laila at this time is still a young child, yet she tolerates the war as a background routine of her daily life. At this point, the war has become normality to her, but she still gets nightmares of the dead. Living through wartime, especially while growing up, causes not only possible death, loss, and physical disabilities but mental issues. Hosseini uses symbolism and imagery to help the reader understand and feel sympathy towards the citizens of Afghanistan who are just the poor, helpless, innocent people that just want the war to end.

A Thousand Splendid Suns, Passage Eight (Chapter 24 – pages 173-174)

It’s the whistling," Laila said to Tariq, "the damn whistling, I hate more than anything" Tariq nodded knowingly.

It wasn't so much the whistling itself, Laila thought later, but the seconds between the start of it and impact. The brief and interminable time of feeling suspended. The not knowing. The waiting. Like a defendant about to hear the verdict.

Often it happened at dinner, when she and Babi were at the table. When it started, their heads snapped up. They listened to the whistling, forks in midair, unchewed food in their mouths. Laila saw the reflection of their half lit faces in the pitch black window, their shadows unmoving on the wall. The whistling. Then the blast, blissfully elsewhere, followed by an expulsion of breath and the knowledge that they had been spared for now while somewhere else, amid cries and choking clouds of smoke, there was a scrambling, a barehanded frenzy of digging, of pulling from the debris, what remained of a sister, a brother, a grandchild.

But the flip side of being spared was the agony of wondering who hadn't. After every rocket blast, Laila raced to the street, stammering a prayer, certain that, this time, surely this time, it was Tariq they would find buried beneath the rubble and smoke.

At night, Laila lay in bed and watched the sudden white flashes reflected in her window. She listened to the rattling of automatic gunfire and counted the rockets whining overhead as the house shook and flakes of plaster rained down on her from the ceiling. Some nights, when the light of rocket fire was so bright a person could read a book by it, sleep never came. And, if it did, Laila's dreams were suffused with fire and detached limbs and the moaning of the wounded.

Morning brought no relief. The muezzin's call for namaz rang out, and the Mujahideen set down their guns, faced west, and prayed. Then the rugs were folded, the guns loaded, and the mountains fired on Kabul, and Kabul fired back at the mountains, as Laila and the rest of the city watched as helpless as old Santiago watching the sharks take bites out of his prize fish.