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PrintDate Submitted: August 31, 2002
Article Type: Journal
After 24 hours of travel and just two hours rest at the my hotel in Bombay, my friend Mital and I are away to meet Dilip Kapadia of the Golden Kite Club. Sound, smell, and chaos—the real India. The kiteworld closes in and for the rest of the day I am in Indian kite heaven. A “professionals” cutting competition is taking place and we arrive in the middle of dusty scrubland to be greeted by seriously serious fliers. The competitions are a series of one-on-one jousts and held under the strictest possible Indian rules (after all, they inherited the British passion for bureaucracy and have embellished it since). The fliers are confined to their crease (cricket must have taken the term from the kite tanglers) and are assisted by their reel handlers. The blue, or black, tissue and bamboo kite is launched into the gentle sea breeze and rapidly disappears from sight as the manjha line is spooled off. After spooling 900 yards of lethal glass the kite is considered safely airborne and it is time to attach the cotton line. And when 500 yards of cotton are out the knights of the manjha start maneuvering to gain tactical advantage for the fight. The kites are just dots on the horizon. “Are you ready?” “Yes, er no, er yes, er no.” Psyching each other is part of the battle. “Ready?” “Tangle!” The little dots maneuver around each other and the performance reminds me of Kipling’s Indian story of the mongoose and the cobra. There is a strike. No cut, and the kites back off. They circle and strike again. Line is pulled fast to accelerate the escaping kite. Line flies off the spool as the attacker strikes again. At each joust the kites seem to climb higher into the sky until…”Cut, cut, cut!” Suddenly one of the dots is floating away and the flier is looking downhearted.
“This kite is for you.” I am suddenly in possession of a kite, manjha, reel and Mital is to be my spool handler. I suddenly feel hot and sweaty as my credentials are about to be tested. What can I do against the top professionals of Bombay, these people who treat kites more seriously than cricket? The dark blue paper kite takes to the air and I try playing with it, hoping that I won’t be asked to fight. No chance. They see my trick flying as part of the tuning process. “Bring it down and I will make the necessary correction.” Huh, seemed okay to me. Airborne and now disappearing into the blue. At 900 yards it becomes really sluggish to control and I am fearful that just pulling will break the line. At 1,500 yards I am flying an invisible tank. “Ready?” What? I desperately try to bring the kite down in order to tangle from low altitude. “Tangle!” I have lost sight of the black dot and have no idea where the opposition is. There is a slight pressure on the line and a hearty slap on my back. “Congratulations, you have won your first tangle in Indian skies.”
The second tangle goes rather better because I can see both my kite and the opposition. The line continues to pull so I am ready. This time Mital and I are a crafty pair and the advantage is with me, and against me. “Spool!” “Pull!” “Line, line, line!” By now the professionals are looking bemused and my quarry looks dejected as his kite drifts away.
PDF Link: Journal Issue