The first part of this post is a fictional essay written in response to the prompt, 'Kite' at the Ochre Sky Writing Circle.
This was my attempt to write in the voice of Rehan, a 16 year old boy. I was fortunate to get to know Rehan, Deepa, Raju* and others at the learning centre for out-of-school children where I taught and learnt during the long months of 2020-22. (*All names changed)
I was unable to sleep one night because the neighbour uncle came home drunk and was creating a big hungama. My brother had also not returned from his driving job. So I climbed on top of the building and sat there looking at the stars in the sky. That's when i remembered Swati Miss. She used to teach when I had newly joined this school. I was 11-12 years old. She had asked us to make a drawing of what we would do if we had wings. I remember I drew myself flying over small buildings. There were no drones back then. I had imagined it something like a drone looking over the city. Beyond this neighborhood, over mobile towers and the tall apartment buildings.
Next day I made a kite. It did not fly so well. So i saw some videos on YouTube, bought good quality paper, manjha and made a new one that flew and flew! Usually all of us friends play Free Fire on our mobile phones when we go back home. But flying the kite that day was the best feeling I had in a long time.
One day during lockdown, my friends and I were playing kabaddi. One sir who is the panchayat member told us he will pay each of us 50 rupees if we clean the water tank at his house. When we went there, he made us empty the water tank, wash his cars, bikes, water the garden and also clean the tank. When we finished and asked him for more money, he screamed at us and chased us away. I phoned my mother in the village and wept without telling her why.
After that, I became regular to school. I want to become something in life. Maybe I won't build such a big house. But when that man stands on top of his house, he will see that my kite is flying way higher.
I am remembering Nayanika. We were all finding it difficult to say her name and it was so funny. We laughed for days about it. She came to teach us after she completed her 10th exams. The kids used to call her Didi or Ma'am. But i didn't know what to call her because she must have been the same age as me. Her skin was also the same colour as mine. Not like the other teachers who are more white. I think she also lives in an apartment building. I will make a red kite tomorrow. Maybe she will see it from her window.
Children are a resilient lot.
Even the ones growing up in privileged homes are always thinking of creative ways to overcoming challenges every single day.
Raju's sister once had an ugly fight with Deepa - when they were all walking back home from the school. That night, Deepa's mother landed up in front of Raju's home and created a big ruckus. Since Raju's family are migrants and didn't understand the language too well, they stayed quiet and tried to make peace. Some time later when Raju's father bought him a brand new cycle. Every evening, after school, Raju would keep cycling in the playground. Gradually, he started allowing his friends also ride his cycle for a little time. One of those days, I saw Deepa riding Raju's cycle around the playground. At first, i thought I was mistaking someone else to be Deepa. So I had to step outside for a better view. And it was indeed her.
My grown up mind was amazed at how quickly children are able to forgive, forget and move on. It is not so easy for us adults to move on because we are weighed down by the burdens that we carry. Burdens of our ideas of a good life, burdens of expectations from others, burdens of hopes for a better future, burdens of past hurts, burdens of regrets from our own mistakes, burdens of what we think is fair.
The mental health epidemic of our times has given us an entire marketplace of techniques that could help us in relieving ourselves of these burdens. But I have witnessed that we also carry the burden of expectations when we take that tentative first step into therapy (of all kinds and not limited to psychotherapy). And when it does not suit us, we are quick to judge the technique, the teacher and ourselves.
It has taken us years to learn to carry our burdens, so it will take some time to learn to let go of them. And one day, without realizing, we will feel lighter. And we won't even know which teacher or technique has helped and how.
When we feel lighter, we are able to find ways to rise, glide and even soar.
Like Rehan's red kite.
One of the ways that has helped me in letting go and moving on has been reading and writing personal essays at the Ochre Sky Stories memoir writing workshops with Natasha and Raju.
Until this workshop, I didn’t know we needed to read and write together.
I remember Rehan and his story :)) BTW, this is sooo precious: Until this workshop, I didn’t know we needed to read and write together. :)
I remember this Karthik. How beautifully you inhabit a child's mind and heart. I needed to read this today, to remember the child in my grown up kid. I am also thinking of the little boy looking out of windows and sending him a big hug.