With small deft hands he carefully folded the paper the way I showed him. The little kite that we were building, was taking shape before our eyes. I remember doing the same with my dad when I was his age. I too was fascinated by things which could fly. I can see the same curiosity and fascination in my son’s eyes.
I have a way of making things less fun. I have been told this by a lot of people, or may be ot is mostly in my head. I have forgotten which amongst the two is real.
I start describing to him the act of choosing small sticks from the broom, which will form the spine of our kite. It has to have enough strength to give the kite ability to withstand the head wind it is going to face. He listens to the instructions carefully as he starts assembling the kite. We chose an orange colored paper, his favorite. I smile to myself about how he likes bright orange compared to my dull peach. I remember how my father has taught me the art of tying the thread (sutra) to the kite. That according to him is the defining part of making a kite. We do our best in tying the sutra, and lift the now complete kite up in admiration. I can see the joy on my son’s face as he looks at his creation. I can feel the joy in me, looking at mine.
We take the kite upstairs on to our terrace and wait for the right wind to give it the flight. After a few minutes, which feels like eternity to both of us, the wind picks it up and gives it a well deserved flight. As both of us look at the bright orange kite in the early morning sky, we can’t help but feel proud of what we have done. A big gush of wind takes it even higher and farther, as we see a tiny version of what stood in our hands a few moments before. The kite now flying with a new found majesty and with an apparent mind of its own, keeps finding new heights.
We don’t even realize, it happens within a second, we realize much later what had happened, “detach”. The kite had detached from the thread and it was now flying on it’s own, away from our hold. This bittersweet moment left us with mixed emotions.
It was time to get ready, and drop my son to his school, It was his first day at kindergarten.