IT was a strange sound I heard from the trees the other day, and there through the branches saw stuck a coloured paper kite, along with taut string stretching and un-stretching and pulling the helpless kite that was stuck.
I peered further and saw a half a dozen more. “Poor fellows!” I thought to myself, picked up a tall bamboo and propelled all of them onto the terrace where I stood.
I picked them up gingerly, one by one; some had nearly succumbed to wind and weather, others had lost a battle with stronger opponent in the skies, they looked distressed with faded colour and jaded look. “Don’t worry!” I whispered tenderly, “I’ve rescued you, now you’re all going to be fine! You are safe!”
“Where are you taking us?” asked one anxiously and I laughed, “Don’t worry little fellow, I’m taking you to a place where no manja will cut you, where you will never find yourself landing on some tree with the elements of nature cruelly waiting to destroy you!” “Thank you!” sighed the kite as I hung it on a nail, along with the others who also seemed happy seeking sanctuary with me.
And there they hung, safe, secure and happy, till today. Today it seemed one or two of them had tears flowing down. “What’s wrong?” I asked sharply.
“We miss the breeze that lifts us up, the wind that carries us into the sky, we miss looking down at the earth below!” “Oh yeah!” I exclaimed harshly, “How quickly you forget the slice of toughened thread as it cuts in and makes you float powerlessly away.
How quickly you’ve forgotten, lying lifeless, helpless on some tree or antenna! You miss that?” I shouted angrily.
“We miss,” said an orange kite gathering courage, “The exhilarating feeling, as we soar, the challenge of being the highest in the sky, we miss, yes the competition with another and the joy of victory as we know we are stronger!” “But you are safe here!” I whispered.
“This is not where we are meant to be,” said same orange kite, “We should be up there, flying high!” I climbed back to the terrace thoughtfully and saw a little boy, looking into the sky longingly. I called to him, “Take,” I shouted and gave him all the kites, “Go fly them, they aren’t meant to be mere decorations on my wall!”
I watch with amazement, same kites that had seemed happy, nay safe on my wall, now rising with the breeze, screaming with exhilaration and marching triumphant as they struggle with others, and as I watch I ask myself, “Am I also a kite, stuck on a wall, too timid to take my place in the sky where I belong? Are you? Scared to do business again, because of one cut of the manja? Scared to get into a relationship? I watch the kites flying high again..!
