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Rubie Mccloughan
The practice of having someone else chase after your kite is not limited to Afghanistan. That country is probably the most strongly associated with kite fighting and running, due to the very popular book The Kite Runner and the movie that followed.
Pakistan and India also use the term kite running. However, the runners in those countries have a much more urban environment to deal with, as they scramble after tissue and bamboo drifting in defeat.
The fighter kites in these two countries are somewhat smaller than the Afghan ones, which average around 1 meter (3 feet) in width and height. Sometimes, it's the flyer himself who runs after his free-flying kite. Yes, it's a male-dominated activity in these countries.
Kite fighting as such is known in quite a few countries around the world. However, the practice of actually parting other people's lines is biggest by far in western and central Asia. The alternative method is simply to drag down or tip other kites off balance, in order to be the last one flying. There's plenty of this in Japan and the USA.
I've been talking about scrambling with your eyes on the sky. It's not hardto imagine how dangerous this is, for those who happen to be crossing abusy street at the time! The danger doesn't end when the kite is downeither. Runners might find that it's up a tree or jammed in the gutterof a multistory building. Apparently, kite running gets people killed from time totime from accidental falls to the ground while attempting a retrieve.
There is a reward for these death-defying antics; you get to keep the kite! I'm not sure that I would risk mylife for a piece of tissue and bamboo, however nicely made anddecorated. Oh yes, I nearly forgot... It's not unknown for a motorcyclistto nearly lose his head in these situations. I'm not referring toroad rage either! This has actually happened when glass-coated flying line ended uptightly strung across a narrow alley, barely visible to approachingtraffic.
On a more positive note, all these free-floating kites present an opportunity for the very poorest people to claim, own, and fly some expertly constructed fighter kites! So there's that, in addition to the emotional highs of success in the kite-running quest.
You better look out, if you have a kite in the sky! ;-) The notion of cutting down other kites is very much ingrained in the minds of many men from some Asian nations. From a very young age, it's just been the thing to do. It's what kites are for, isn't it, the thinking goes.
Even in our local association, I've overheard at least one story. An Asian flyer got a little carried away and even cut one of the strings of a multi-liner 8- Oh my goodness (and I hope you liked the goggle-eyed emoticon).
Similarly, the practice of kite running also spread towardthe Middle East through India and Pakistan, finally reaching Afghanistan several centuries ago. In all these countries, young and old are equallykeen on the sport. While mainly men and boys participate, people frommany walks of life can be seen battling it out in the skies with thesemaneuverable single-string kites. This is particularly true in Afghanistan where the entire spectrum of society can sometimes be observed in action.
Wait a sec... single string? How do you steer these things? I must admit I had heard about kite fighting long before I came across the explanation of just how these kites are controlled.
The kites are actually unstable when there is only light tension in the line. Check out the movies on YouTube, where you can see fighting kites moving slowly in tight circles. To move in a particular direction, you wait until the kite is pointing there. Then you tug the line to load up the kite sail with air pressure, and off it shoots in a straight line... for a few seconds.
I visited India only once, for less than two weeks, but I left a part of my heart there. I can't say I know it well, but I know how it made me feel, and it seemed impossibly exotic and absolutely comfortable at the same time: I was curiously at home in a strange land.
At an event in my hotel, I met a police chief's wife, who invited me to her home for dinner. Just like that. The families seemed to function in the ways of families I knew. The fact that so many people in this far-away land spoke English made it more accessible to me. I loved the way so much of the talk circled around philosophy. I developed a particular love of the exuberant music, colors, scents and tastes. It occurred to me that no women can fail to look well-dressed in a sari.
But these are all superficial tourist truisms. I have learned more in my reading, but so could you. It's in the movies where I find sensual and instinctive insights. I like Bollywood, and the classicism of Ray, but there's one area of Indian films I've missed, or remain ignorant of: The low-budget indie scene. Sometimes, all over the world, such films are freed of the lockstep of plot and have a better feeling for the thing itself.
A new film named Patang in this year's Chicago Film Festival opened a new world for me. It plunges head-first into a family based in Ahmedabad, where India's largest annual kite festival is celebrated. It reflects the way Indians live in each other's pockets (to borrow the the British expression). Homes and businesses, temples and roadways, are all crowded close together, neighbors know one another, and it's all held together by a network of the most baffling and chaotic traffic in the world.
This film is joyous, but more than that: It's lovely in its construction. The director, Prashant Bhargava, born and raised in Chicago, knows what his basic story line is, but reveals it subtly. The story in outline would be simple enough for a made-for-TV movie. There is nothing simple about Patang. The bare bones of the story: An affluent uncle from Delhi named Jayesh (Mukund Shukla) pays a much-delayed visit back home to his family in Ahmedabad, bringing along his daughter Priya (Sugandha Garg), who hasn't seen these relatives in years. He meets his mother (Seema Biswas), his grandmother Ba (Pannaben Soni), and his nephew--the son of his brother, who died of a heart attack. The nephew, Chakku (Nawazuddin Siddiqui) resents the way this distant man descends grandly on the small town relatives and feels he has the right to make suggestions and changes. There are many more details, but that's all I choose to reveal.
The story line becomes fully clear only towards the end. In form Patang looks almost like a cinema verit documentary of this family, surrounded by the city and the kite festival. Although it was years in the making, many key shots were obtained during the festival itself, and we see the skies over the city filled with thousands of dancing, dueling kites, as every single rooftop is occupied by people. Below in the streets, bands, fireworks and food vendors create a tumult. There is a little romantic subplot, involving the daughter from Delhi and Bobby (Aakash Maherya), who begin a flirtation on the rooftop and continue it during a motorbike ride.
The family house itself is a character, and there are a few extended shots of its graceful, playful architecture and happy colors. Many interiors involve a photograph of the dead brother, whose soul seems to inhabit it. Meals are prepared and shared on a table in the street. The food looks delicious; fingers are often used. People are teased to perform songs. Gossip and chatter run wild. No attempt is made to lay all this out logically; indeed, we only gradually come to know who the characters are. It's clear enough, but not underlined and pounded home.
We meet a young boy named Hamid (Hamid Shaikh), who is delegated by a kitemaker to deliver a parcel of kites to this family home on the big day. His mission ends badly. A search goes up for Hamid. Meanwhile, on a bridge, Priya and Bobby begin a flirtation. Both are good looking. Her eyes dance with merriness. They've been together a few hours. In a lesser film, this would be a love story with a happy ending. "But Bobby," she says, "we hardly know each other. Do you expect me to leave behind thousands of friends in Delhi?"
He does. Now watch carefully. Their flirtatious conversation is filmed in close ups and closer-ups. The effect is intimate and sensual. In one shot only, cigarette smoke coils from her mouth. We never otherwise see her smoking. This establishes in a moment that she is more worldly than the boy. She kisses him, but that will be that: This is only a few-days visit.
Back at home, the frenzy of the kite-flying takes over. We learn that the kite strings are coated with powdered glass, and the idea is to cut another kite out of the sky and rule the clouds. This is never explained in so many words. We have to observe for ourselves that the kite-fliers protect their fingertips with tape. Such facts are embedded in the film, to be discovered in context. So is the mystery of the nephew's resentment, which is explained obliquely by indirect dialogue. We are immersed in the life and sort it out for ourselves. The effect is curiously like being invited into this home and learning while we stay.
Prashant Bhargava was born and raised on the South Side of Chicago, went to grade school and the Kenwood Academy. How did his background produce such a lovely and successful indie film in India? From my point of view, the story begins about 25 years ago, when his father, Vijay Bhargava, started taking my film class at the University of Chicago's downtown extension division. Vijay was smart, affable, good company. He always saved a seat for me in the back row. During the complete silent features of Buster Keaton, we worked our way through oatmeal raisin cookies and peach Snapple. He loved movies, knew a lot about them, and when I was going to the Calcutta Film Festival he set me up with his cousin, who showed me all over town, including the Victoria Memorial, an architectural wedding cake that he regarded with a certain pleasure, considering Victoria had once appointed herself Empress of India.
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