Firsts

I was at my aunt’s house, visiting for my cousin’s eighth birthday celebration. I am four years older than him. However, it was not just my cousin’s birthday that day; it was also India’s Independence Day (August 15), so the skies of Delhi were filled with kites. Adults and children alike traditionally fly kites on that day as a symbol of gaining independence from the long last colonial rule. Oftentimes, neighbors lock in a friendly kite-fight and the one to cut their opponent’s kite’s thread wins. I had heard from my aunt that my dad used to be rather skilled at that.

I had always wanted to fly a kite, but since my home doesn’t have a rooftop, I never got to do so. My cousin’s place does have a roof though, and I was determined to learn how to fly a kite that day. I had sneaked a kite into the car before we left and declared to my dad that he had to teach me. That day, learning how to fly a kite seemed more important than my cousin’s birthday.

My cousin’s place is situated near the river Yamuna, which makes the wind currents stronger and gives us an advantage for flying kites. After we sang him ”Happy Birthday” and ate the cherry-topped black forest cake, I immediately took my dad to our car and showed him the kite, colored in shades of blue and purple. Blue used to be my favorite color back then. He seemed rather happy about seeing it, and I still believe that he knew all along, and that I was not so sneaky after all.

We went to the roof and the first thing I learned was to align the thread properly across the kite so that it could maintain a nice balance while flying. My dad told getting it right was the hardest and most crucial part about having a sturdy kite. I observed very closely as he sewed the thread through the wooden support sticks and the tender kite paper. My dad is a teacher, and this part felt as if he was giving an academic lecture worrying about all the tiny intricate details of the subject matter. I almost suggested that kites should come pre-fixed with the thread, but dared not interrupt him so keenly explaining the art. I pretended to understand all of the complicated process even though I was only picturing myself firmly holding the kite thread and being the unrivaled champion at kite fights. The next step was to get the kite rolling in the air and eventually let it gain elevation. This was very intuitive and with my dad’s help initially, I was finally able to fly a kite! For the very first time! The sun’s rays shimmered through the kite’s edges as it soared high in the sky, and I was jumping with happiness.