My twin sister took great fun in trying out new clothes meant for me. She would try it even before I could try them. And then annoyed with her , I slapped her one day. She cried . May be we were 8 . May be we were 10. I cannot recollect now . But that moment where I slapped her in a fit of rage and she breaking into tears is fresh in my memories
Musing over it last evening, I still didn’t understand why she did it every time. But then kids are like that.
Why do I write here some personal stories you ask
The kite called korika does that to you. You start recollecting memories of your family, more so of your siblings
In the story, Malla , the younger brother chews a chalk piece belonging to his elder brother Yella when Yella refuses to give it to him
Yella pushes his brother down and runs as fast as he can , across paddy fields.
..and long after you are done with the book, you envisage a frail little 9 year old, running crazy amidst the fields, even as the hot summer winds in drought ridden Andhra blows across his face
You envisage the plump fruit seller sitting under the peepal tree shooing away flies , even as she waits for someone to buy the berries she sells. You stop and wonder – if someone purchased them at all. after all this is a village reeling under a severe drought and hopes for rain
… You stop and envisage what it is to sleep on a half filled stomach. You start feeling for Yella’s friends – that ask everything from marbles and bangles from the magical kite
..And you stop reading and envisage what it is to wish for a full meal
..and you stare for a good few minutes at the mother that stays up at night , her eyes full of hope that the high fever her son suffers from would vanish , just like that – like magic . Haven’t we all experienced that as moms – even as we feel the warmth of a burning fever that takes over the frail bodies of our little ones, and we wished and hoped that the fever would disappear magically
..and then there are moments where you look for Yella around you. You want to embark on a journey to get back that kite – and this time around,you want the kids to get all that they wished for – from marbles to pattu pavadai , from a cinema ticket to a full meal, from a cycle to a school bag. Just about everything they wished for
And then I worry if kids that find presents under a X-mas tree value this book as much as I value it.
A kite called Korika does that – it tugs at your heart strings
A beautiful story of letting go of something you hold so dear for the sake of a loved one
There are books you read for your little ones and there are ones that you read for yourself
Today, I read a Kite called Korika for my soul. To introspect . To feel thankful for a life where I don’t have to sleep on an empty stomach
Submitting this as an adult entry for the theme of sharing and kindness