The kite of affection

This is a story by MUNSHI PREMCHAND (1880-1936) about two brothers. Munshi was one of the most popular writers and social activists of India, who wrote poignant stories about the exploitation of the vulnerable and of disadvantaged communities. SARA BUBBER has translated the story from Hindi into English and added an activity to go with it.

My Big Brother

My elder brother was five years older than me but only three classes ahead. I loved to play and he loved to study. I made paper butterflies, climbed walls, and pretended wooden logs were motorbikes. My elder brother, on the other hand, was a perfectionist. He took important subjects seriously and spent two to three years in one grade. I sought opportunities of escaping my hostel and he waited for me to get back and ask the same question every day, “Where were you?” I don’t know why I could never answer him and my silence spoke of my grave offence.

My brother told me English is hard, he himself spends years in the same class to build a good foundation. How could I expect to pass when I played as much as I did? Days rolled by and I tried to give studies a try. I made a plan and tried to stick to it. But when I went into the park, I couldn’t bring myself back. I realized, I couldn’t give up my love for play. Finally, in the exams, I passed with flying colors and my brother failed. 

I wanted to tease my brother, but I gave up the idea. I became prouder and more confident and continued doing what I wanted to. My brother sensed that he didn’t have a hold over me anymore. He gave great examples of what ego did to Ravana, a very learned and strong demon. He told me luck works once, but in higher grades the concepts of algebra, geometry, trigonometry, the eight Henry’s, freedom in France can give anyone a breakdown! I listened with visible disinterest and prayed for the lecture to end soon. As luck would have it, once again I passed and stood first. My elder brother had failed once again.

We were only one grade apart and I thought it would be funny if he were to fail again and have no base for scolding me ever again. Hard work never worked for him and for me, my fortune was strong. Yet I felt like a thief scuttling about to leave the hostel to play. Why would I be bothered if my brother complained about my interests? Would I give them up? In fact, I found a new interest, kitesurfing.

Every evening I would be out flying and collecting fallen kites. I entered tournaments and doled out the reels, I cut kites and ran behind kites gliding onto the floor. One such evening, I saw a beautiful kite playing with the breeze, doing acrobatics in the air, gently turning and twisting when I slammed into my elder brother. I was far away from my hostel; maybe my brother had gone to the market.

He held my hand and asked me how could I be playing like a street urchin. He reminded me that I was in the eighth grade, and that a few years back, eighth grade pass outs could be clerks, sub-magistrates, and tehsildars (collectors). He continued in a calm voice that he knew I was smart and had a lot of knowledge, but he had a lot more experience. If he fell sick, I could only sit and cry, but our parents who have studied very less could do much more about it. That is because they are wiser and more stable than us. Behind every successful person, even if I were to do an M.A. or Ph.D., there would be people behind my success. The headmaster of our school is able to do his work well because his old mother at home takes care of everything. He raised his voice and said, “So if you think that you have become older and you can be independent of me, and that I won’t take care of you, you are mistaken because I am always there…” 

I realized my brothers tactics of taking care of me, and I was filled with tears and gratitude. I hugged him and he placed his hand on my hair. At that moment, a kite glided down and some children were running behind it. It was much higher than them, but my elder brother, who was much taller, caught it with ease. He grasped it and ran into the horizon with it, followed by the giggling boys and the pink yellow kite fluttering in the air.

Kite flying is part of the festival that falls on January 14 (January 15 in a leap year) in various parts of India. It is known as Makar Sankranti in Hindi, Uttarayana in Gujarat, Bihu in Assam, Pongal in Tamil Nadu, and Lohri in the Punjab.

Sankrant falls on the same day every year to mark the solstice, signifying that the days become longer and the nights become shorter.

The winter crop is harvested close to Makar Sankranti and so it is a joyous occasion. A good crop calls for a good celebration and food for all!

Illustrations by LAKSHMI GADDAM