Monu's World: Raka's Kite

It was almost the end of March in the Spring of 198-. March was the ideal month to laze around doing nothing and fall asleep on the green grass, just looking up at the sky. Studying was the most difficult during this time as Monu used to inevitably find during her final exams. After all, Nature conspired against all futile attempts at sitting still trying to read any sort of printed matter. Thankfully, Monu's third standard final exams had just got over. She was a good student and enjoyed school life. But once she got back home, anything connected with school depressed her and she'd procrastinate doing her homework as long as she could. Instead, after having lunch and her afternoon nap, all she would want was to get out of her house and go search out her friends and play with them. So, now that the school had closed for the end of term, and the holidays, even though only ten-days long, had begun, Monu was going crazy thinking of ways to enjoy every single day of the short vacation.

It was a beautifully sunny morning and the sweet scent of flowers coming out of their winter hibernation hung lightly in the air. A balmy breeze was blowing signalling the onset of the hot and humid Summers. Monu stepped out of her house and looked around. Her neighbor in 75 was just hopping onto his scooter, having spent the past five minutes trying to rev up the machine into form. An impatient, excitable man, he was always over speeding and all the kids would scuttle away in alarm out of the way whenever they spotted the old blue scooter coming screeching down their way. Monu came and stood beneath the gnarled old drumstick tree at the end of the small pathway in front of her house. Craning her neck to see whether Raka's front door was open, she perceived it wasn't. Not wanting to go up and face the scowling Neeba or the cunning Shree, especially as the latter would surely be up to her usual tricks of baiting her, Monu decided to go round to the back lane common to both the houses. She quietly slipped around the Henna bushes lining Raka's small front garden, and looked up up longingly at the huge mango tree beginning its annual weight gain as tiny mangoes started to appear amid the lush green leaves. It had been only days before that the ground below had lain carpeted with the remnants of the vast florescence that used to engulf the tree every time in February when Winter would wane.

As she rounded the corner she could make out a black head at the end of the lane. Excitedly, she sprinted towards it calling out Raka's name. He turned around and grinned. The quick, simple smile that so endeared him to everyone shone out. With twinkling eyes he pointed upwards. She looked in the direction of his forefinger and squinted at the bright sky. She saw the blue of the sky, couple of low-flying crows and a daredevil eagle performing high flying acrobatics. She looked back at him and shrugged her shoulders asking "what?" He pointed, "look!" She looked again, this time noticing a string that started from somewhere in his right hand that was tugging gently at it and continued high into the sky. There it was - flying gaily at the end of Raka's string and playfully darting in and out of the white cottony clouds, a mere black speck to her eyes at first, but gradually coming down and becoming bigger and colorful - a bright red and yellow kite. Like a boat on high seas, it seemed to be expertly sailing the clouds controlled by Raka's small yet skillful hands.

"Hold the manja!', he said pointing to the manja reel - a rolling pin-like thing on the ground around which was wound a thick head of the string called 'manja' . The 'manja' is a particular string used to fly kites on account of its abrasiveness that gives it the sharpness of a knife's edge, and consequently helps the kite flyer to cut off another's kite string during a kite flying contest.  So, handling the manja was an altogether nerve racking thing. Monu remembered to have seen quite a few cuts on Raka's fingers from time to time. She now carefully picked it up from the ground and felt a strange wave of elation watching the string tumble forth into Raka's hands as he pulled at it. " Hold the reel loosely", cautioning her Raka was laughing now. She followed his gaze and saw the kite jump in the wind that blew it further into the sky and Raka quickly pulled downwards at the string to keep the kite from running away into the Heavens. Monu stood giggling excitedly next to Raka, egging him on and squealing with delight when the kite suddenly dipped wildly as Raka relaxed his hold and screaming with joy and jumping up and down when he'd quickly start to pull the string in making the kite soar again.

"You want to fly it?" Monu stared a moment unable to completely comprehend the meaning fully. "What...", she stammered. "Come here, quick. Here, hold the string", and before she knew it, she was handing him the manja reel and he'd handed her the manja. She forgot her slight fear of the manja cutting her fingers and excitedly clung onto the string. For a couple of seconds she held her breath as she felt the hard pull of the wind and the kite seemed like a live thing tugging at her hands. She hooted with joy as Raka grinned from ear to ear saying "Zor ki pakad, patang ko neeche mat jaane de!". As the wind seemed to pick up she struggled to control the kite having no idea whatsoever whether to pull in the string or loosen the grip. The kite was sailing fine, then suddenly it seemed to dip. "Oye dekh!" shouted Raka and steadying her hands, he took the string from her. She was glad to hand it over, only relieved that the kite had not come crashing down. It would indeed have been tragic to bring down poor Raka's kite - she would have been mortified and he heartbroken!

So, she stood there contentedly holding onto the manja reel firmly, both a spectator and a semi-participant but enjoying the whole show immensely as Raka and the kite took turns at pulling each other per Newton's Third Law of Motion and the wind kept the three of them company all the while.