A line of kids waits to buy kites from Shahi’s store. The Center, nearly 25 years old, is neatly stacked with innumerous colorful kites, and spools of all sizes dangle from ropes hanging on the porch.[break]
Amit Dahal, a grade five student from nearby Dilli Bazaar, is pleased with his two new green kites.
“Of course, I fly my kites first and then do homework,” he puts in as if it was a ridiculous question to ask. Indeed, by the time classes are over, the sun is already low in the sky. Amit, like many other avid kite flyers, needs to make the best of the evening winds before it is too dark.
Fifteen-year-old Biplov Humagain, a grade 10 student at Bagmati Boarding Higher Secondary School, is equally eager to fly kites. “I just like it,” he says timidly, as he chooses kites. His friend quickly adds, “It’s the fun of cutting down others kites!”
While D K Kite Center is popular in this part of the city, at Maru Ganesh Tole behind Basantapur is Pratap Man Shrestha’s family kite shop that is way past its golden jubilee.
“As far as I recall, my father had been selling kites since 1948,” the owner shares. Since the shop is seasonal, Shrestha, as a professional, works at the stock exchange.
“Kite flying is a community game and that’s the thrill of it,” highlights Deepak Pathak, a cosmetic storeowner from Balaju. He is one of Shrestha’s regular clients who come to purchase kites for their retail stores. Pathak buys some Rs 2,500 worth of kites, threads and spools each time he visits the shop.
“Guys from one tole (area) come together to compete with other toles. To take down others’ kites is to win,” says Pathak.
However, bringing down others’ kites is not everything. Or perhaps, wasn’t used to be everything.
“The tradition of coming together to prepare the thread has died down with readymade threads coming from India,” laments Dipendra Kumar Ranjit, owner of Chikamugal Changa Pasal at Chikamugal, which is over four decades old.
Thread used to be customarily prepared by coating it with a mixture of sabudana (a kind of granular porridge) and maad (rice starch) boiled in water.
“With the thread stretched across an open area, one person applies the maad, the other following him, sticks shisha (crushed glass) on to it,” Shrestha describes the rather lengthy and dangerous procedure. The thread, when dry, would become strong and ready for a battle in the sky.
For youngsters today, this is a hassle when they can purchase Indian thread with pre-applied maad at Rs 100 and above.
“Boys used to crush shisha and snails and apply the mixture on the thread,” recalls poet Kesar Lall Shrestha, who on many occasions has referred to kites in his verses. In a rather tragic short story, The Fallen Kite (The Fallen Kite and Other Stories, 2007) writer Laxman Rajbanshi writes about a poor boy and his fervor to collect fallen kites.
Verses and stories aside, this is not the only threat kite flying is facing in Nepal.
“There are very few people who still make lokta paper kites these days,” points out Ranjit, who stopped making lokta kites three years ago.
A sheet of lokta, fit for making kites, costs Rs 6. With a higher labor cost, the market price amounts to above Rs 30 per kite. Indian kites, made from thin Lucknow paper, are as cheap as Rs 2 per kite.
“It’s quite saddening that our local products have been replaced,” laments Shahi and continues, “But nor do we have such cheap papers produced in Nepal.”
Seasonal kite shop wholesalers such as Shrestha, Shahi and Ranjit order nearly Rs 200,000 worth of kiting materials each year from Kolkota in India.
On a positive note, wooden lattais are still made locally.
“Unlike in Nepal, Indians don’t use lattais for flying; they just pull on to the thread to maneuver the kites,” outlines Shrestha. “Therefore, the readymade thread is usually transferred on to a Nepal-made lattai.”
According to Ranjit, kite flying usually begins on Ghatasthapana, coinciding with the planting of jamara for Dashain, which falls today, Friday, October 8.
“It’s said that kites are flown to send Lord Indra, the Hindu deity of rain, a message to stop the monsoon rains since it’s now time to harvest the rice,” the shopkeeper relates the folklore.
And so while street vendors are busy making sales on the streets, atop rooftops are kite flyers – be it to send a message to Indra, to fly for fun, or to battle against other flyers. Nonetheless, with tall commercial structures rising around every other corner and once open spaces being plotted out for yet another gated community, the absence of airborne kites is being felt this season.
“But I don’t think kite flying has gone down despite the popularity of television and video games among today’s children,” opposes Shrestha. “In the Terai, everybody from kids to adults fly kites, especially on Saturdays, and I don’t think people are flying less kites these days,” also opines 19-year-old Niraj Koirala from Bardibas, Mahottari.
“With the rains lasting a bit longer than previous years, the kite business has been much slower this year, but it’s picking up,” reasons Ranjit, adding that many schools are still having their term examinations.
No matter what, these devoted kite shop owners will run their business as long as they can. And with colorful kites hanging from the eaves of their shops’ roofs, you can hardly miss any of them.
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