May 1, 2016
I read this book long, long ago: came across it while going through a book list here on Goodreads, and suddenly felt the urge to post a review.
Dear Kunta Kinte,
We are separated by time, space and culture. Throughout your largely tragic life, you would never have imagined that your story would ever be written, let alone read by a bookish teenager in far-away India, for whom slavery till that day was only a fact learned from school textbooks, mucked up to pass hated history exams. However, Mr. Kinte, you would be pleased to know that reading your story, penned by your descendant Mr. Alex Haley, changed his whole outlook. He suffered with you, Mr.Kinte, as you lay chained up in the dark and dank hold of the slaving vessel: he felt the searing pain as your foot was cut off as punishment for trying to run away: he choked back the bitter disappointment, along with you, when your master told you that the money you had saved up was not enough to buy you freedom (namely, that you were too poor to pay for what you were worth!)and he suffered the agony of separation with you as your daughter was sold off. And that teenager hung his head in shame as he thought of similar atrocities perperated by his forefathers in the name of caste.
Mr.Kinte, that day the boy took a vow never ever to insult the dignity of another human being; also not forget these crimes against humanity, lest they be repeated.
Mr.Kinte, I am that boy. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the lessons your story taught me.
Yours sincerely,
Nandakishore Varma.
Dear Kunta Kinte,
We are separated by time, space and culture. Throughout your largely tragic life, you would never have imagined that your story would ever be written, let alone read by a bookish teenager in far-away India, for whom slavery till that day was only a fact learned from school textbooks, mucked up to pass hated history exams. However, Mr. Kinte, you would be pleased to know that reading your story, penned by your descendant Mr. Alex Haley, changed his whole outlook. He suffered with you, Mr.Kinte, as you lay chained up in the dark and dank hold of the slaving vessel: he felt the searing pain as your foot was cut off as punishment for trying to run away: he choked back the bitter disappointment, along with you, when your master told you that the money you had saved up was not enough to buy you freedom (namely, that you were too poor to pay for what you were worth!)and he suffered the agony of separation with you as your daughter was sold off. And that teenager hung his head in shame as he thought of similar atrocities perperated by his forefathers in the name of caste.
Mr.Kinte, that day the boy took a vow never ever to insult the dignity of another human being; also not forget these crimes against humanity, lest they be repeated.
Mr.Kinte, I am that boy. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the lessons your story taught me.
Yours sincerely,
Nandakishore Varma.