I needed a break from the incessant rain in Mumbai. So, I thought of kites flying in the sky. I have read somewhere that the brain does not know whether it is looking at a real visual or a picture that it has conjured up - I think this is true! I saw children flying kites somewhere in the Punjab. Harmless kites flying over wheat fields kissed by the sun - low flying kites whose strings were not fortified for battle. They were not trying to bring each other down - they were just playing together in the sky. I don’t know which side of our broken country the children were on - they were just children flying kites! First written with a vey special cohort from the Ochre Sky writing community.
A dozen little running feet Row upon row of growing wheat Up above, a kite Yellow, pink and white. Bobbing up and down Pulling at the string Praying for the wind To stay strong. A few wheat fields away Another kite comes to play Red against the blue Of the beautiful summer day. Soon, there are more Together, they soar They don’t chase each other They don’t keep score. Evening comes The sky turns pink The kites are lowered The children go home for a drink. Asleep under the stars, they know That tomorrow They will fly their kites Once more.
🪁🪁💜