Go, fly a kite

We first tried the toy shops — yes, they all sorts of expensive plastic and electronic games and gizmos but no kites. It seemed that the tradition of kite flying was literally getting blown away with the winds of change. Finally, we landed up in a small peon’s quarter. The ‘kite parlour’ as we discovered was operated by an elderly person called ‘uncleji’ — hawking his ‘special Agra made’ kites. In a corner of the room were stacked an assortment of kites, strings and lethal brands of ‘manjha’ meant for fierce combats.

Now we were all set to launch our dream kite. But however hard we tried; the kite simply refused to take off. Clearly I had lost touch with my childhood skills. However there was no giving up to day. Hadn’t my father, nearly five decades ago; taken me out like this one day and successfully flown a kite?

We gave it one more try, and this time we also tied a long tail to keep the wobbly kite stable. And suddenly a strong gust of wind came; there was a gentle nudge — and up went the stubborn kite! Soon it was a mere speck of colour against the azure-blue, resplendent winter sky. We both exchanged looks of a little aviation triumph and let the kite go higher and higher. Lil’ Sumant quickly learnt the art of pulling up the errant kite if it nose-dived, and giving it a long rope when it became too demanding! He was now thoroughly enjoying his power over the kite and fully in command of its flight.

At last our flight of fancy had come true. It was time now for me to retreat and pass on the string of responsibility in the lad’s hands. Also a family tradition had been passed on another pair of small but sure hands.