ABOVE: Searching for some competition over the neighborhood rooftops in Kathmandu, Nepal. kite and thrust it up into the air. There was little wind, but Prajjwal started pulling and twisting, sticking out his tongue and biting his lip with concentration. When the kite caught some air and lifted, a smile spread across his entire face, “I’ve still got it.” He pulled the kite fairly high into the sky, and explained that we could fight with others floating above nearby houses. He asked if I would like to try, and I took hold of the spool. I didn’t have it for more than thirty seconds before the kite started dropping and spinning out of control. “What did I do wrong?” I asked, as Prajjwal grabbed the kite back and tried to rescue it from its death spiral, “I tugged and pulled on the string like you did.” “I guess it takes skill and practice,” he answered, a bit of pride shining through his voice.
It took him a few moments to reel in the kite and get it under control, just as fat rain drops began to splatter on the roof. Prajjwal pulled in the kite, and I grabbed the others. We helped to take the laundry off the line before the sky completely gave way to the heavy shower. * The following afternoon the sun was high and warm, with just enough breeze to lift a kite into the air. In preparation Prajjwal and I wound the Lucknow string carefully around his old wide wooden spool used in many childhood competitions and took another kite up to the roof. He quickly launched his kite into the air, and soon it was soaring high above the neighborhood. Half a dozen other kites fluttered against the sky, mostly too far away from us to battle. “When I was a kid there were hundreds.” Prajjwal said, baiting the other kites to try and come after him. He spotted a black kite struggling a few houses away, “Maybe I should go after that one.” Worcester Polytechnic Institute
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