Makara Sankranti brings alive fond memories of kite flying
Come January, the sky was full of kites of different shades, some with short, some with long and a few without tails, the reins of these being in the hands of enthusiastic kite flyers. The sky reverberated with shrieks and shouts of ‘Kaat diya’, accompanied by a villainy laughter whenever the kite was freed from the hands of its rightful owner. It was a sadistic pleasure which every one of us enjoyed when the immediate ‘neighbour’ lost the kite and the winner had taken revenge for the previous year’s defeat. Being born and brought up in Hyderabad, I have some unforgettable memories of the festival, beautiful childhood reminiscences of Sankranti and kite flying. Every Hyderabadi, who flew kites in their childhood from the 1950’s to late 1980’s on their roof tops, and open grounds before the apartment culture boomed, will be able to immediately connect to the excitement and merriment.
Arrangements and preparations for kite flying usually started much before Sankranti, the D- day. The most notable and important of these preparations was sharpening of the yarn-the manja. This was an elaborate process that required immense patience. Yet, it was undertaken with equal zest, despite our clothes getting spoiled, hands and feet bearing cuts and bruises and unbearable pain. Added to this misery, we had to face the wrath of mothers. But remained oblivious as we wanted to make ‘the best manja’.
Amid the hectic preparations, we were compelled to sit with our grandmother to know about the importance of the festival. My grandmother was well read in Hindu scriptures and could fluently read the verses in Sanskrit as well as in Telugu from the Mahabharata. If we were not attentive to her gospels, we were not allowed to continue with our kite flying activities, so we sat very unwillingly. Alas! How I miss those happy days! Gone are the carefree childhood days! Undoubtedly, they were the happiest.
Every year during Sankranti she used to religiously narrate the entire Mahabharata till Bhishma Parva. Maybe that was the reason why we knew about the scriptures well and could pass it on to the next generation.
The festival started with Bhogi. We really enjoyed this day because from a few days earlier we were asked to collect broken wooden furniture, (plastic was unknown to us} firewood and twigs to make Bhogi ‘manta’ or fire in the early morning and it was a great fun, because, some useful items were almost thrown into the fire just to tease and irritate my mother and grandmother. The whole front yard and back yard were decorated with rangoli.
I remember our maid Kamala and how patiently she made rangoli with vibrant colors. We were all the time trying to assist and help her running here and there, occasionally messing up with her designs. The colours were bought from Sultan Bazar market where many sellers sat in line on the pavement.
The fierce battles in the sky began with vengeance from then on and continued uninterrupted at least for the next four days. As soon as a competitor cut a kite, we would run to catch it.
Running on the roof top to ‘loot’ the severed kite, was a thrilling experience. We had no steps to reach there except a rickety, ready to collapse ladder. It was our smooth escalator though we didn’t know about escalators way back then. We invented an effective ‘device’, to catch those kites that floated lifelessly on our roof top. We had a long bamboo split a little bit at the thinner end and tied a thorny dried bush and ran across the roof holding the heavy bamboo with both hands and with both eyes on the lifeless kite so that the yarn gets entangled with that thorny bush. When the opponent’s kite was ‘cut’, there was jubilation and celebration all over. There was loud applause and cheering when the kite ‘battle’ lasted longer than expected. Sometimes a few kites were stuck in trees and in electric wires through many times we tried to retrieve them.
Makara Sankranti is a festival of celestial importance. It’s a harvest festival which is associated with both religious as well as seasonal observance. It’s a festival of thanksgiving and is dedicated to the Sun God for the harvest.
I don’t remember many sweets being made for this festival except for the delicious laddus made with sesame seeds, ground nuts and jaggery. They tasted heavenly and the taste still lingers in my mouth. My grandmother always explained the logic behind all celebrations, and lessons to be learnt from kite flying. As kite remains on top, our goals in life must be the priority. While flying the kite we concentrate holding our head towards it, similarly, we must be focused on our goals without any distraction. The kite flies against the wind, not with the wind. In life too, if we go with flow and surrender to unfavorable situations, we will not be able to rise. Never give up or lose hope if things are not in your favor. Sky is never a limit for people who take challenges and face odds in life. If the situation is not favourable in life return to your roots as the kite comes back if it cannot fly.
We may have a big, beautiful kite but it cannot fly if the balance of fitting or string is not proper. To achieve success in life the body, mind and soul should be aligned properly. One wrong step will ruin your life and all the energy and effort you have put in will go down the drain. After all, what goes around, comes around like the kite that comes back. So, be good to people and do good deeds. What a profound philosophy is hidden in the simple kite flying! As children we thought it was a boring discourse to stop us from rushing to play, but understood the essence of these life lessons, as we grew up.
