Page 100 - English Class 07

much as three or four rupees. At the request of the Nawab, he had once made a very

special kind of kite, unlike any that had been seen in the district. It consisted of a series of
small, very light paper discs, trailing on a thin bamboo frame. To the extremity of each disc,
he tied a sprig of grass for balance. The surface of the foremost disc was slightly convex and
a fantastic face was painted on it with the two eyes made of small mirrors. The discs,

decreasing in size from head to tail, from the kite the appearance of a crawling serpent. It
required great skill to raise this cumbersome device from the ground and only Mahmood
could manage it.

Everyone had, of course, heard of the ‘dragon kite’ extremity : edge
cumbersome : heavy and awkward
that Mahmood had built, and word went round that it
budge : move
possessed supernatural powers. A large crowd
assemble on the maidan to watch its first public launching in the presence of the Nawab. At
the first attempt it did not budge from the ground. The disc made a plaintive, protesting
sound and the sun was trapped in the little mirrors, making the kite a living complaining
creature.

Then, the wind came from the right direction and the dragon kite soared into the sky,
wriggling its way higher and higher, with the sun still glinting in its devil-eyes. When it went

very high, it pulled fiercely on the twine and Mahmood’s young sons had to help him with
reel. But, still the kite pulled, determined to be free, to live a life of its own.

And then, it happened. The twine snapped, the kite leapt away towards the sun, sailed
on until it was lost to view. It was never found again, and Mahmood wondered afterwards if
he had made too vivid, too living a thing of the great kite. He did not make another like it,
but instead presented the Nawab a musical kite, and that made a sound like the veena.

Yes, those were more leisurely days. But, the Nawab had died years ago; his descendants
were almost as poor as Mahmood himself. Kite makers, like poets, once had their patrons;

Mahmood now had none. No one asked him his name and occupation, simple because there
were too many people in the gali and nobody could be bothered about neighbours.

When he was younger and had fallen sick, everyone in the neighbourhood had come to
ask after his health. Now, when his days were drawing to a close, no one visited him. Most
of his old friends were dead. His sons had grown up; one was working in a local garage, the
other had stayed in Pakistan where he was at the time of partition.

The children who had bought kites from him ten years ago were now adults struggling
for a living; they did not have time for the old man and his memories. Having grown up in a

swift-changing, competitive world, they looked at the old kite maker with the same
indifference as they showed to the banyan tree.

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