“You too?” I asked with a smile on my face.
“Uttarayan is my favorite day,” he said as he stuck his thumb in his mouth to suck the drop of blood that had emerged from the latest string-induced cut.
It had been many years since I’d flown a kite, but I still remembered the cuts from the string when we flew kites as kids in India. Those sharp pricks made needles seem tame.
“I see your friend has arrived,” he said. His eyes had the same shiny reverence as the eyes of the children who had wanted to touch Carrie’s skin at the airport.
Introductions were made, and I gave Carrie a tour of the shop, which really meant showing her the darkroom and some of the prints I had put together for Hari’s wedding album. When we emerged from the back room, Tushar was still working on his kite.
“Need help?” I asked.
His head was bent low while he focused on creating the perfect knot. “You will be cut,” he murmured, the end of the string dangling from his mouth.
“I’m not such a delicate flower,” I said, rolling up my sleeves and sitting at the counter.
Carrie raised an eyebrow.
Tushar shrugged and pointed to another kite on the floor near his feet. This one was purple with a white circle on it. I picked it up and watched the way he worked the string so I could mimic his method.
Carrie pulled up another stool. “Okay, I can’t just watch you two work on this. Toss me one of those.”
Tushar passed Carrie an orange-and-pink kite and a spool of string. She watched Tushar as he meticulously made knots.
“Where do you plan to celebrate?” he asked.
I pulled string off a third spool, this one neon pink. “Ow!” I said, sticking my index finger in my mouth. The metallic taste of blood mixed with my saliva. I hadn’t even tied my first knot before cutting myself.
Tushar laughed and shook his head. Carrie joined in until a second later, when she pricked her finger on the spool.
“Karma,” I said jokingly, before turning my attention back to Tushar. “I don’t know. Neel and Dipti are going to spend it with her family. Carrie and I will probably just do whatever my cousins are doing. Or maybe Biren has some plans.”
Tushar looked up, horrified. “You have not planned this day?” His eyes grew wide.
Clearly, this was his version of Fourth of July, Christmas, and his birthday all rolled into one.
“You must come with me, then,” he said. “Both of you. Each year, we meet at my kaka’s house. The location is good. Lots of nearby kites to cut.”
“Cut?” Carrie asked.
Tushar turned toward me, astonished. “You have not told her about the festival?”
“She just got here! Give the girl a minute to adjust,” I said in protest.
Tushar faced Carrie. “You are in for an exciting time. Ahmedabad is the kite capital! You see, kite flying used to be a sport for kings. But now it is something everyone enjoys.”
The way he emphasized everyone made me conscious again of our caste-and class-based differences.
“What’s the cutting you were talking about?” Carrie asked.
Tushar had a glimmer in his eye as he spoke. “This string, you see, is special. Very sharp. Glass particles are glued onto it, so when you are flying kites, you can cut the strings of other kites. The goal is to be the last kite in the air.”
“Oh, so it’s like The Kite Runner,” Carrie said.
Tushar slapped his palm to his forehead. “Oy! Americans!”
His tone was exasperated. This was the most animated I had ever heard him. I couldn’t help but smile as this lighter, more playful side emerged.
“Okay, it is similar to the novel, but there is a great significance in India. It is the day of the year when the sun travels north, marking the decline of winter. It is the day that signals the awakening of the gods from their deep slumber,” Tushar said.
“That’s interesting.” Carrie turned to me. “Why didn’t you tell me any of that?”
I shrugged. “Because I didn’t know it.”
“So, you will join us then?” Tushar asked again.
After the ice cream shop debacle, I hesitated and wondered how my family would react.
Tushar looked at me. “This is the one day no one cares.”
Carrie’s face registered confusion at his comment. I gave her a look to convey that I would fill her in later.
To Tushar, I smiled and said, “We’re in.”
36
Tushar had been right. The camaraderie of Uttarayan seemed to transcend caste boundaries. Virag Mama drove Carrie and me to Tushar’s kaka’s house without any warnings or disapproving looks. It was only three miles away from Lakshmi, but with the traffic on the roads it took nearly forty minutes. These days were public holidays, and it seemed everyone in the city was rushing to get somewhere for the festivities.