There was an age when I couldn't get through a Sunday without the Sunday Express.
The celebration and mourning with the crossword,the comic strips,the "eye"...
Today,it made my monday morning.I read this article about kite flying in Delhi and it brought back fond memories of a trip to Amritsar-January 2006.Flying kites with my 14 year old cousin,climbing some really precarious locations,the thrill of the chase,the exultation with the height and the pain of the bleeding wounds in my fingers.Both of us would dart around for a while later till our wounds from the glass-reinforced dor dried out.The sting of losing a kite,the way we'd nurse back our damaged kites to health-cellotape,tissues et al,hiding our wounds from our family to escape their disauding. We compulsively flew kites in those 6 days that I spent there.The sun on our back,the sun on our heads and the sun in our faces,staring at us.And us, staring back with the kites on our side.When the sun would go down every evening,we'd usher back our kites and watch the helpers at the neighbouring hotel bring up their "yellow" quilts and lie down on the rooftop watching the sun go down. We shared the sun with them but we wouldn't share our kites with any soul.
Running after strings,we became kite runners,though it was more of scrambling across terraces,scaling scalable walls,failing at inscalable walls and jumps and leaps than running,but we did qualify as kite runners!
Are these mere coincidences-
-My cousin's name is Sunny?
-today my left thumb has a number of gashes on it (thanks to some mindless activity of mine while I was in my early-morning trance?
- My organisation has a kite flying competition next week?
Though I aint painting any flight of "paper diamonds" with my A+ blood today,the i.e columnist "Danish Shafi" has made my monday morning take flight!