The Kite Runner
I
t was all over news; social media, radio,
television, anything that went out to the
sensation loving fanatics - A special category
of kites had overtook the entire market by
storm. It was said that anyone who took a
hold of these kites transformed into a
professional flyer. It was like a magical spell
that turned their hands as if they were carved
for this sport. From a reasonable distance,
these kites looked like any other except they
had a silver hologram with a glittery upturned
kite carved on top of it. Floating rumors
caught up quick with the surging demand and
everyone had their own theories - some said
that these kites were illegally imported from
some remote factory in China while some
even went so far as to claim that maker of
these kites used black magic to turn every
person into a kite flyin maven. Shrey didn’t
buy any of this apart from the infamous kites.
He was an ambitious young journalist
obsessed with covering eccentric stories and
this was his next project. Apparently, no one
had a single clue about the production of
these kites and the handful sellers were not
spilling any names. Amongst the closed
community of the tight lipped sellers, this
mysterious maker of these special kites was
addressed as The Kite Runner.
It was 14th August and Shrey was on his way
to work when his phone rang and the screen
displayed the name of one of his regular
source.
‘30 second till the lights turn green, make it
quick.’ he answered hurriedly.
‘You won’t believe this. I just got a text from
one of my leads who gave me the address of a
seller….’ the voice on the other end paused
and took a breath ‘.....who knows about The
Kite Runner. The Kite Runner, Man! Think
you can meet him in say twenty minutes?’ he
asked anxiously.
‘What! Of course. Forward the address right
now. I’m on my way’
‘Done.’
‘Thanks man, I owe you one. Bye.’ he cried
through his helmet and looked at the screen.
As the stoplight turned green, he was the first
to break the line. For those twenty five
minutes on the road, it was no less than a
miracle that no one got hurt, including him.
Shrey slowed down as he reached his
destination while his thoughts intensified. As
the passage narrowed, he found himself
immersed amongst the hustle of street
vendors selling tri-color flags and kites. He
knew he landed at the right place. He parked
his bike, took out his phone, looked at the
address again, and began his expedition with
his most trusted ally hung across his neck. It
was sheer luck he carried his camera to work
today.
After moving hastily for about fifteen minutes,
he came across a skinny boy, sitting in front of
the shop he was supposed to visit. Shutters
were down and this boy had ostentatiously
used this opp ortunity to display his quirky
kites.
Shrey walked towards the young boy who was
donning an unusual turquoise jacket under
the scorching heat. He was unusually calm
and quiet which looked queer in contrast to
the surrounding panorama.
‘Hey boy, listen, do you know when this
opens?’ shrey pointed his finger towards the
closed shop. The boy turned with a piercing
gaze. Shrey immediately took a step back for
such a sharp gaze beaming through that
young boy’s eyes startled him.
‘This place is closed from the last three years’
the shabby young boy murmured in an
unusual tone. Shrey’s brows furrowed as he
looked at the boy acutely.
‘How is that possible! Somebody gave me this
address few minutes back and told me to
meet here.’ Shrey pronounced and turned
around moving away, looking to enquire from
somebody else.
‘I gave the address. You are looking for Kite
Runner, aren’t you?’ the skinny kid proclaimed
from behind.
Shrey stopped in his track. He turned back
slowly towards the gaunt boy. ‘How do you
know that?’ Shrey exclaimed.
‘That’s not the question you should be asking.
What you are looking for is his address. Go
straight and take the second left. You’ll come
across a row of vendors selling flags on either
side of the road. Follow the road for another
50 meters and look to your right. You’ll see a
closed shop with blue shutters again but only
a different one this time. Right next to it
stands a house with white doors and a stall of
large plastic kites placed in front of it. Mount
the stairs and ask for your Kite Runner. You’ll
find him there.’ he uttered and sat back on his
wretched stool.
People walked pass Shrey, nudging him
occasionally but he stood still not moving an
inch, trying to comprehend everything this
shabby looking boy just said. Shrey’s
perplexed eyes were fixed upon him when the
boy looked at him again and said, ‘If you don’t
hurry, you’ll lose him. He doesn’t stay there
for long.’
This one sentence was all it took for Shrey to
push aside his skepticism and lunge towards
the direction which the turquoise meek arm
pointed. His legs followed the road
thoughtlessly, he walked passed the first turn
and fixed his gaze upon the next one. His pace
quickened as he moved nearer to the next
turn and he almost jumped with his last step
to face the new block. The path opened itself
to a wider street with fewer people crowding
the road and even fewer street sellers
occupying the sidewalk. Amidst the squabbles
and strollers, an old man donning all white
was folding the tri-colored cloth, a beautiful
sight. Shrey looked at him, smiled and
continued on his path. He rushed looking up
at all the passing houses and stopped abruptly
as the picture painted by the young boy came
to life. An old man with well brushed white
beard sat next to his proud kite display and a
feeble old woman had made space for herself
over the stairs to his right.
Shrey went up to the old man but he straight
away pointed the finger towards the stairs
without uttering a single word. Shrey looked
and found the old woman already adjusting
herself to make way for him. He silently
followed their unspoken command and went
up the stairs. He meticulously climbed the
stairs only to find himself on top of the house
with a panoramic view of the entire market.
‘He’s here. You can go now. I’ll catch up with
you in a while’ a voice came from behind and
broke his trance.
Shrey turned slowly and was shook with what
he saw. A man and woman were fastening a
tri-colored mask onto a small boy’s face who
didn’t look any older than eight. They expertly
tied the strings and left the premises quietly.
‘The Kite Runner?’ words left his mouth as he
exclaimed absentmindedly.
‘You look surprised.’ the kid donning the tri-
colored mask proclaimed in a stern voice.
‘You are Kite Runner? The Kite Runner? How
can that be? You are just a kid!’ Shrey spat out
as cluster of relentless thoughts clouded
inside his head.