Anchored flights

Come winter and I8217;d be at what I loved the most. Spending all my free time out in the sun flying kites till my hands would have blisters and gashes from handling the manza.

Back in Assam, where I grew up, there is no dearth of open spaces. So instead of terraces, it was the lawns and playgrounds where the action lay. I preferred a corner of the playground. I8217;dplace the kite on the ground, loosen the thread a good deal, hold the reel in one hand and run full steam ahead till the kite took flight. Then I8217;d stop and roll the thread up fast so that the kite really took off.

To me the fun lay in watching the kite glide merrily in the sky. With it my mind would take wing and fly. As for the boys, kite fighting8217; was more their scene and they would spend hours trying to cut one another8217;s kites. There8217;d be scuffles, especially when they tried to catch the fallen kites. But no boy worth his salt would try to cut my kite. Boys sure learn chivalry early!

My parents never objected to my penchant for patangs. But they were not indulgent enough to buy kites by the dozen for me or my brother. So we were left with little option but to make our own kites using old newspaper, bamboo sticks taken out from the broom used in Assam to sweep lawns and glue. As for the manza, a mixture of mashed rice and sand was good enough, while a discarded powder tin would do for thereel.

The most difficult part, however, was obtaining the rice. For our widowed aunt, who was in charge of the kitchen, considered carrying cooked rice outside the kitchen a sin, something that would render the entire house impure. She had warned me in no uncertain terms that being a girl, I was supposed to understand such matters better and if I was ever caught stealing rice, she would beat the living daylights out of me.

So it always fell on my brother to sneak out some rice. He did get caught a few times but my aunt let him off with a mild rebuke. Boys would be boys after all, I often heard her say.

As I grew up I came to terms with the fact that not only my aunt but everybody expected me to behave like a girl. My friends were no longer impressed with my skills as an all-rounder. Nor were the elders amused anymore. Even my bother showed visible signs of embarrassment whenever I joined him in play. Well, I had to give it all up 8212; kites, marbles, and tree climbing.

How time flies. I realised it theother day when I saw my four-year-old running around with a kite that had fallen onto the open space in front of our house. I immediately bought a reel and some colourful kites. Life seems to have come full circle indeed. Who knows, now my daughter might take a fancy to kites.