January 15, 2010


There was a sense of concrete satisfaction when you snip away with the scissors, its incisive blades working its way with steely precision on the fragile paper. Inch by inch, a plane getting divided into two halves- some perverse gladness welled up to see the destruction.

He picked the two halves and folded one of them in a pattern, making the sheets work for him. "Bend here and stay right there, slave," he commanded them from inside. He cruelly snubbed at the folded part and sharpened it with his nails. "Stick your head to your toe and stay there forever," he chanted and poured out adhesive between the papers. White viscous liquid that looked like some kind of a condensed milk flowed on his command. He thwacked the paper on its back, and with a sound, one could almost hear its imaginary ribs break in obedience.

He took some sticks and bent them near breaking point. The sticks squealed out of pain; the brutal force was making its body bend in servility. He hooped those bent sticks and crossed them, sticking them on to the paper and stitching them to it with finality.

He took the form and tied it to a string, enslaving it further more. He smiled...

He ran outdoors, clutching on to the string and making his created monster slave almost collide headlong on the ground, but missing it in a hair's breath. Dodging crowds, things, buildings, he ran out near the river. There was a whole mass of people assembled there. As the first rays of the sun rose, as if that was like a gunshot command fired to begin, a million big and small kites rose in the air. He threw his monster kite out into the limitless skies and smiled again feeling their freedom within him...


Happy Uttaraayan! Being in Ahmedabad during this time must be one of the luckiest things; but unfortunately, I went to the International Kite flying area in the evening, hoping for something similar to what I described above. Much to my disappointment, there were hardly 20 kites ruling the skies; whereas the old city(according to what my friends gushed), had a brilliant canopy of kites!

This is my account of what could-have-been had I been there.
© Dryad's Peak
Maira Gall