KITE

About kite flying, nirmal anand and the alternative to this bloody sport

Note: I wrote this essay for a recent prompt in the Ochre Skies writing Circle (OSC) I’m a part of. The prompt was ‘Kite’. The timing of this prompt was particularly interesting as you will find out.

K-I-

I read, half getting up and half adjusting my glasses. It must have been around 2 am. The phone was inches away from my face.

K-I-T-E

Udit was investing some money. He needed my phone. And my phone needed my face.

“What’s this?”

“Zerodha Kite. This is an investment app which…”. I lost him at investment.

But what a bloody coincidence! I had been struggling with the prompt for days and here it was…voila!

Before that very moment, I perhaps would have noticed/thought about kite on a total of seven occasions.

First, K for Kite. In Name-Place-Animal-Thing, it was both an animal and a thing.

Second was a failed attempt at flying a kite with my brother, nine years younger than me, on our terrace back home. As far as I remember I don’t think it rose more than six feet and seeing this as a futile exercise we dropped the plan.

Third was an appliqué cushion cover mum made—three kids in contrasting pant/skirt and shirt flying colourful kites.

Fourth was Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner. It was heartbreaking.

Then it was third year college around 14th January. Multicoloured kites adorned the skies. I spent some time watching them. I actually found it quite liberating. But later in the day I also heard news of a couple of people getting killed after invisible glass-laced manjhas, they drove into, slit their throat. Bloody sport!

Sixth, a kite bookmark. This speaks more of my love for bookmarks than kites!

And finally, the OSC prompt earlier this week.

I never took to kite flying because of a few reasons.

One, there was too much physics involved. This angle, that height, this pull, that tug. For me this was enough to suck the joy out of any sport.

Two, it felt like people flying kites were commanders sending their soldiers to war. Kill or get killed. The ulterior motive of patang kaatna made this a bloodless yet bloody sport. Where was nirmal anand? 

Third, I would rather play with kids downstairs than fly a kite alone until some other unknown kite decided to come play with me only to eventually get the better of me. And I have always wondered why my social media life is non-existent!

Cycling was my Kite Flying

But most importantly, that freedom to soar and fly associated with kite flying, I got that from cycling.

My Avon unisex chocolate brown cycle was my most reliable friend through eight years of school. Every day for at least an hour, I rode like a kid possessed. I can still feel the wind in my hair and my eyes. I raced with classmates and with random children I found cycling in the evenings. I cycled before and after tuitions. I cycled to buy grocery or to run errands like a quick check if the maid had turned up at some other aunty’s place. This was also the best time (most heroic way) to impress my school crush.

I cycled a LOT!

I remember the one half of the key left in the padlock when a race ended in kainchi (scissor). A couple of us decided to race into a sand pit and crash into each other while two others would watch. I don’t know what we were thinking. I was left with a non-functional padlock and the other guy with a broken chain guard. This was my ‘kite’ moment. The only one. I decided to stick to simple cycling.

I still have a cycle which I have ridden for exactly one day every year for the last 14 years.

Now that the manjha of the money-making k-i-t-e is firmly in Udit’s hand, I should get back to cycling. Again.