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Spice of Life: Chasing the high-flyer with strings attached
I have only respect for this tribe of kite-fighters and runners, who despite the physical, economic and psychological pitfalls, assiduously pursue their unique passion.
After superannuating from university a couple of years ago, I vacated my official accommodation on the campus and shifted to the house I had painstakingly built in a relatively upmarket locality of Amritsar. Open verdant spaces abounded on the campus where I lived for almost 30 years, but in our congested cities, such expansive tracts are hard to find. Luckily, in my locality, which came up recently as an extension of the existing one, there are a few empty stretches.
The ground in front of my house attracts people for various activities from playing cricket to taking driving lessons or a morning stroll, and even for flying kites. Groups of kite-flyers descend on the ground to enjoy access to the clear blue sky without any hindrance of overhead wires or trees. They bring along heaps of kites and rolls of abrasive string (manja/ dor). They display their ingenuity by entangling (pecha) the manja of the competitors’ soaring kite followed by triumphant shouts of ‘bo kata’.
But I’m not writing this piece to laud the dexterity of the kite-flyers, instead this write-up is a eulogy to the tribe of the kite catchers/runners (kati patang lootne wale), who follow kite-flyers in equal numbers, and get into their act either on foot or on scooters/motorcycles with their eyes glued to the sky, chasing flying or severed kites. Scampering along with abrasive strings in hand or some with nylon thread (used for caning chairs) tied to pebbles (gati), they intend to pull down the overhanging string of a severed kite from the pecha by heaving the gati and entangling it.
Asked why they were wasting petrol on chasing kites when in the same amount they could buy new stuff from the market, pat came the reply, “Kati patang lootna (Catching kites) is my hobby since childhood. I don’t mind spending any amount on it.” One of the older men in the group said that to beat the cost of the fuel, he had replaced his two-wheeler with an electric scooter. It’s another matter that he belonged to a well-to-do family of cloth merchants having a two-kanal bungalow in another posh locality of the city. Asked if he didn’t feel embarrassed about his queer hobby given his status, he shot back, “Why? This is my passion. It’s a skill I’ve honed and have no qualms about it; rather my children are following in my footsteps. We discuss the nuances of kite-running over dinner.”
One morning, I noticed a gentleman in formals with a bag on his back looking skywards at kites dotting the sky. Apparently, he was hoping to latch on to a severed kite from a pecha. “I’m on way to office and thought why not make the most of the commute time if luck favours me,” he said with a grin. In the heart of hearts, I saluted his passion.
Another time, a kite runner shared the economics of his hobby. “Sometimes, I latch on to a cut kite with so much string attached that it is worth ₹200 in the market; and when I get two or three such valued catches, it’s a bonanza.” I marvelled at his shrewd approach.
At the end of the day, I have only respect for this tribe of kite-runners, who despite the physical, economic and psychological pitfalls, assiduously pursue their unique passion.
The writer is a retired professor of economics from Guru Nanak Dev University, Amritsar, and can be reached at vikramchad@yahoo.com
