To Fly A Kite

The north Indian winter was gliding away, after casting a fortnight of coldest weather in 10 yrs. The chill playing truants, was to be given a send off. The game was up for the sun involved in a hide and seek. Children forcibly swaddled in full winter gear by their parents could relax themselves.

Makar Sankranti the next day meant that spring was on the way. It heralded the tailing winters, see-off to foggy days and ensured regular sunlight. The honeybees buzzed at their busiest self. It was the best season, with vibrant colored flowers, excited birds and of course the KITES.

Into the great blue sky, above the pink neighborhood in Jaipur, several kites bobbed and danced into each other. Boys in colourful woollens rode on each terrace in various stages of kite flying. Selecting out the best, tying up the triangle after precisive measurements, adding the string, and then launching. The loud yelling, after a victorious match, startled many a mother pigeon incubating her eggs.

Roshil and Neil, were also perched up on the terrace. Roshil was still in his school uniform. He was a lean boy, growing taller now. His round, fair skinned face with little hair beginning to sprout on his chin made him look handsome. He and his sister stayed under the care of their grandfather most of the day, while their parents pursued their corporate careers. Neil was his neighbour, and best , inseparable friend. And both did not stop rueing that they had to attend different schools. However unlike Roshil, Neil was tall, and sturdy. He had green eyes, and a mop of bushy hair, standing like antenna at the root. The kites Roshil had purchased, from johari bazaar while returning home from school lay sprawling on the terrace. ”I have bought the best manja from mayachand babu’s shop” he told Neil who held up the new roll to study its quality.

“umm. How much you paid?”

“We are their regular customers. Moreover he feels obliged to remain in my grandfather’s good graces.” Roshil chuckled, an indirect answer squinting up to the deep blue sky.

“Hey Neil! How about a match?” .

“Yes! I’ll carry the day today’’ Neil smiled back.

‘’you bet!’’ Roshil threw up a challenge.

‘’just mind your cheating brains and spare the saddi.’’ warned Roshil.

“I never cheat ‘’ a defiant Neil made himself safe.

The colourful rhombuses of different designs, met and crossed strings at the skies, with giggles of two adolescent boys, livening up the air.

Soon, another blue swan kite was seen approaching. ‘’watch that!’’ Neil spotted.

‘’that’s for me!’’ Roshil gazed at the beautiful piece bobbing close up in the sky. Neil gave a sharp tug to his strings and then released it sharply.

‘’kaataa! Kaataa!’’ a loud hollering which rumbled up the terrace, cheer over his victory informed his grandfather, Mr. Brajmohan singh, a retired army officer about his where abouts.

‘’I am waiting for lunch here and this boy is perched up there.’’ He said, waving aside the birds who rushed in, as he spread seeds on the bird table. The smell of food filled the air. Steaming daal, chaaval, roti. Roshil’s younger sister Rashmi sat at the dining table. she reached an hour before from school, and had seen his brother arrive, fling aside his blazer, drop the school bag, before running to the terrace. Grandfather called her ‘my chick’ as she loved to eat off his hands the folded roti with cud filled into its depths.

Shyamghan their multitasker and hands off househelp, started serving, and grandfather went upstairs to summon Roshil.

***

Next day was Makar sankranti. Terraces were brimming with kite enthusiasts. The records were howling on each terrace to the latest bollywood hits. Rashmi was trotting on the terrace, humming to herself. She shared her brother’s complexion, and her curly hair fringed on her forehead. Her bright eyes sparked beneath her deep set eyebrows and her pearly white teeth were revealed when she grinned at the sight of her brother alighting the terrace.

Looking at the kites in his hand, she was exited.”you are starting to fly kites now?”

“no. not before 9:00 a.m.. before the first phase of morning is over, as grandfather says, and his birds have hauled themselves back to their resting”

‘’ But you don’t plan to start bothering me.” “Do not ask me to help with your kite launching.’’

‘’Why? You mean I can’t fly a kite today”Rashmi’s debated.

“you just forget it and don’t tag behind me” Roshil was smart to use his status of being the elder.

Little Rashmi’s heart was still popping excitedly

Makar sankranti was ushered in enthusiastically. These colourful square papers pasted on to reed frames conquered the skies. Jaipur became the magic land. The provincial personality of Jaipurites added flavor to the already interesting day. Men and women thronged the terraces , all attentions absorbed into the sky. Their kites in heaps occupying the corners. A ‘manja’ traversing through an ear, and another from there between the legs sometimes entangling, sometimes holding the next step you want to take forward.

Grandfather was also relishing the day, with his own buddies. Revris, groundnuts, tea and biscuits making rounds. They sat around in a circle, sipping, chewing, and munching. They discussed having teeth pulled, their heart checked into, their knees fixed, and pension deposits. And also about the ultimate wisdom of political manoevoers an open question. Others snoozed in the delicious warmth of the sun.

Neil arrived there with his grandfather. Roshil was happy with his friend joining in and both occupied the higher contours of the terrace “Neil, just avoid that corner, to your left. Don’t bend with your weight there.” alerted Roshil, playing the good host. Neil peeped down, the jutting piece of terrace in the west corner, where the railing went loose. ‘’of course!’’ Neil agreed ‘’once we slip off we’ll cave in down there.

On the opposite terrace, a ‘new’ girl alighted. Standing by the railing her silken long tresses often blew up with the breeze. In magenta pullover her radiant complexion oomphed magnetism.

Neil was distracted. He was atop the roof and became very conscious of her presence.

Suddenly eyes met ...caught......she too was looking at him. Distance hardly mattered. She blushed, and Neil was embarrassed. He did not want her to see him seeing her.

Hey! There are a few kites in our porch. They must have dropped down after a cut during match” “I’ll rush before someone else picks them up.” Rashmi’s squeaking distracted him.

Rashmi’s day was to be spent racing up and down today.

The new girl sauntered to the other corner.

Neil was still secretly admiring his latest encounter, when once again Rashmi chimed in “Could I write a few words on your kite?” “it shall reach those far off places” she lifted her arms pointing yonder.

“yes places even you have never seen, your kite is going to visit.” chuckled Roshil.

“There is a strong breeze today. It will carry my kite places.”Neil added dramatically, his eyes screening the opposite terrace.

The two boys caught on jokes to be hilarious about. The winds never dropped, and they tugged on to their strings, the kites wriggling and rolling , performing a dance.

The hour reached , As mother earth turned its face away from the sun. Brightness bowed out to dusky cold winds.

***

Banwarilalji Neil’s grandfather and Brajmohanji spread out their tired feet on the low bamboo ‘mudhas’ in the drawing room.

The kitchen was bustling with evening chores, and tea was brewing in the pot.

Just then, a commotion was heard outside. Roshil rushed out with a white face.

***

Neil while alighting his balloon glow kite had slipped off the terrace.

He landed down into the porch… a pale, still, figure.

Banwarilal popped open the buttons of his collar at the shirt, and sprinkled some water, calling out all the while breathlessly.... “Neil!”, “Neil beta” “Neil beta”.

“Shyamalan quick! lose no time. Rush him to the hospital” Brajmohan ordered frantically. Neil’s breath felt dim, as he was stretched out on back seat , his head on his mother’s lap. Roshil wondered if he would reach the hospital alive. Boys crowded on either side to watch. ‘’I am sorry. I am sorry my child. I must have remained close to you. Oh! Neil beta.” Neil’s mother was inconsolable, and his grandfather was shattered. Brijmohanji placed his supportive hand on his shoulders. Shyamghan drove at great speed. He was afraid he might not get Neil to the hospital in time.

In the hospital , Neil was emergently operated upon. His parents glumly watched their son lying silently in the bed.

***

His footsteps felt heavy, as Roshil approached. His face wore a faded look and out in the veranda facing the garden his grandfather sat. His army colored, moat shape cap covering his forehead ,and brows. No one else was in the house, and it was very quiet. Grandfather heard his footsteps, and turned his head slightly, but did not speak. Roshil hesitated, but he patted the bamboo stool and motioned him to sit.

”you are feeding your pigeons grandfather?”

“feeding and nursing them.” said he and motioned his hands to show some birds with bandaged wings. Roshil although had never paid any attention to them before. They were not even pretty, but today it struck him, how wonderful and patient these small creatures were, and how confidently they live around his house. He stared at the bird with bandaged wing.

“my little birds are doomed as they will not be able to fly” he sounded so heartbroken.

” what do I do? I don’t want to harm or risk anyone’s life. I don’t want birds in danger either.”

“adapt! and act safe. Be sensitive” was grandfather’s reply.

“what?” Roshil was puzzled.

“Just as birds and animals do, by flying away from danger. Adapt, just as these birds adapt to eating leftovers instead of grains off the fields! “

“You too must give up your traditional unsafe methods and learn to celebrate festivals in a harmless spirit. With no harm to birds, animals, anyone; even environment. Give up the glass manja, and use saddi. Fly in open grounds, and not on unguarded terraces. Festivals are meant to bring us together, to enjoy and throw some color into our routine lives. Enjoy everything in its true spirit but keeping alertness at your guard.”

Suddenly a little sparrow arrived with something in his beak for its young one, and grandfather moved to greet it.