Nyein Kyaw - I'm sweating profusely in the shade of the thorny tree.

[ 1 ]

Kites were flying and playing in the sky. Red, yellow, white, red and yellow, and striped. The colorful tails of the kites that the children released were fluttering in the air, and the tails were tied with strings and flower garlands. Some kites had two or three separate tails. The tail of a red kite, which was raised to a height of more than a thousand yards, was very long. The tail was more than a hundred or two hundred feet long. The kite was still when it was not flying. It swayed from side to side when the wind blew. The newly arrived monsoon wind was still erratic, and the wind that blew the kite was shifting. The kite was heading north. It was heading northeast. Or it was heading east. Then, the beautiful kites and the kites that were flying in the sky were moving, and it was beautiful to see.

There must have been three or four dozen kites, all vying to catch each other. There must have been twenty kites that had been flown. On days like today, when the day was only half-past one, and on Sundays, the field was even more crowded. On holidays, cars, big and small, arrived all day long. The field was crowded with men, women, and children. They were huddled together under the scattered coconut palms and coconut trees. They were flying kites. Some brought rice and rice packets. Some went to the edge of the golf driving range to cook and eat.

After the Nyaung Rethun festival, one or two kites are flown in the field. Then, until the Thadingyut festival, the Nattaw Pyatho is relatively busy again. The kite flying festival in the north wind is not as busy as the monsoon kite flying festival.

"Brother... Lucky Seven has come up again over there."

Nyi Taw Maung Ata happily pointed to the number seven that had just come up from the Kukko Pin Lut. There were only three number sevens that had come up from there and had been caught by him. Now a number seven had come up again. The first one was the English number seven on white. Then a red one. Then a yellow one. Now the color under the seven is blue and black.

"More brothers"

Nyo Nyo shouted encouragingly. He held the reel in his hand and looked up.

"Hey, Nyo Nyo. He's gone back."

Number seven went back down. He must have gone back down to fix the string because he wasn't playing in the air. He didn't look at Nyo Nyo, he just said. His eyes fell on the red kite. The red kite crossed the yellow tiger and soared upwards. At that moment, he lowered the string to reach the yellow tiger below. It was wrapped around his left palm and the shaft was spinning smoothly.

"Kali's eyes are going to cut off the red star, huh?"

Nyo Nyo ran forward and shouted encouragement. He had to let go of the lower line. More than a third of the two thousand yards of the needle-threaded rope would be gone. The rope was pulled by the needle. The red kite also pulled the rope. He didn't think he would appeal to the lower line. He shifted his position so that he wouldn't think that he would catch the red kite. He lowered it and estimated the position. The kite was too low. He straightened the kite's head and pulled it up. The Kali-eye, which was pulling, rose straight up. At the same time, the red kite took off to the right. The kite was still far apart. The Kali-eye was almost two hundred yards ahead of the red kite. He estimated the location of the red kite. He faced north. The red kite could be the kite of the person who launched it from a place just northwest. He calculated that the red kite's tail was not wrong. He changed course to the right. Kali the Red-Eyed flew to the right and flew away. He estimated the distance. He thought it was enough. If he was not ready and his kite broke, he would be dragged along by a long line. He gave it fourteen or five turns and pulled it to his head. Kali the Red-Eyed flew straight. After playing three or four turns, he pulled it sideways to the left. Kali the Red-Eyed ran sideways like a kite. He put in all his strength and his right finger touched the reel plate and became hot. Red Star was already pulling down to grab the lower line. He didn't know if it was luck or the wind. Kali the Red-Eyed flew low and went under Red Star's kite. At that moment, the Red Star kite-flyer seemed to realize that if he continued to pull down, he would crash. He raised his head again. He tried to dodge. But he was too late. His hands felt the line touch. He pulled harder and took three or four steps back.

“Brother, pull up, pull up, you’re touching the red star.”

The one who was carrying the kite, Nyo Nyo, shouted. Nyo Nyo, who was running to give the kite, his tail curled,

"Pull... pull, little brother"

At that moment, the tight feeling of the red star kite string disappeared. As expected, the red star kite's position was lost. It had snapped.

Like Nyo Nyo and Ata, Kali heard the cheers of a group of children cheering from the side of the window. He picked up the kite that was heading northwest and moved it to the northeast. He rolled it back up.

"Okay... let me go... my brother is sick."

Ataka, my sister, is flying. Nyo Nyo flew the kite. The wind was blowing, and the long tail followed the kite from the place where it was coiled. It was about two hundred yards high, and Ataka ran to him. He took the reel from his hand. Every time he crossed a kite, he took the line and let it go. Ataka was not interested in flying. If others did not fly the kite, they would run around and avoid him. It was late in the evening and the kite-flying event was about to end. He wanted to fly it once and for all. Sometimes he would fly the kite again. Today, he became interested in flying the kite. It was a little over an hour before he arrived at Ataka's house. They said, "Let's fly the kite, let's fly the kite." He refused, thinking that he would stay quiet. Even though his cousins ​​and sisters said it was like a joke. Not only his brother but also his sister called him. My aunt urged me to go with her. So, I bought a pack of ten kites at the grocery store. I thought there were too many kites. My brother thought I was a good kite, so I could fly one all evening. My brother thought I was a good kite. He said, "Do you think I am a good kite?" Nyo Nyo asked. He used to take his kite with him twice a week and fly it with Nyo Nyo and his friends. He could only fly three or four times. He could not fly many kites, so he bought enough kites. He thought that if the weather was clear and the wind was good, he would not be able to fly.

"Brother Kali, you've only lost one of your eyes."

The kite lowered its wings, making a fluttering sound as the wind blew on both sides, playing left and right.

"The first loss was because I miscalculated, you know. I thought I hadn't hit yet, so I gave up and got caught in the crosshairs of the four-square chain." "Yes, brother."

I sat on the grass, my feet crossed. My shoes were not even dirty. It was clean. The green, strong grass was growing in full circles. Only to the north and east could I see the earth's surface in patches. The sunlight was falling gently on the grass. The shade of the coconut tree was falling towards the east. The sun was bright, but not too strong. There were trees in the distance. The kite festival participants were of all colors, races, ages,

“Brother, can you make a Burmese kite?” I’ve seen it before. I’ve never let it go. “I don’t know how to make one.”

“I really want to fly it, can you see it there?” He looked at the direction he was pointing. A Burmese kite that seemed to be flying from a small village on the northern edge of the field. It was three or four times larger than a Kalaka kite. The Burmese kite looked exactly like a real kite. The Kalaka kite was square and pointed. The head, wings, waist, and tail of the kite were spread out, and the Burmese kite swayed in the wind. Long strings of flowers were hanging from the tips of its left and right wings. It didn’t spin like a Kalaka kite. It just swayed steadily from side to side.

“It will be difficult to catch fish if you don't go.” “Yes, I will.” “I think it's just for show, brother.”

“Yes. I saw it when I was little. It was released at night. It had four or five lanterns tied to the tail. It was nice to see. The kite wasn’t in that picture. I’ve heard that other kites were made of elephants and turtles. I’ve never seen one before, either.”

Ata let go of the string, saying, “Kali’s eyes are really good at letting go, just pull, look,” and then lowered it. He let go of the string a short distance from the top of the tree. He pulled it up over his head. Without letting go, he stretched out his hand. The kite’s head swung to the right. He pulled himself up. The wind shifted to the right and it rose with a hissing sound. Ata laughed. It was a good idea. Ata and his siblings had just remembered the name of the kite.

"What is Kali's eye?" Ata turned to look at him and smiled.

"Are there two black circles on the head of the kite? Among the goldfish and silverfish we have, the one called Kali's eye is bulging and has black eyes. And is it round? The kites that my brother bought only change color, ha...ha..."

The kite fell down and collided with Nyo Nyo's kite. Nyo Nyo shouted, "Brother, brother." The brother shouted in alarm, "Make the kite." The kite moved to the west. He shouted to Nyo Nyo, "Don't touch the kite." Then...

"That's why I called you, brother."

"Speak up. I'm going to cut off the long-tailed, brown-haired Kali-eye."

Laughter. With laughter.

"Hey...my brother, Lucky Seven has arrived, come to my side, Ro...Ro"

He got up from his seat. He patted his buttocks and put on his robe. He reached for the wheel...

"Please clear the black hole a little to the east of you."

He said yes and ran back to where it was brown. He lowered the rope. He swung to the left and slowly moved away. He lowered his kite to the north. He lifted it up and took it to the right. Number seven was still in the northeast. It seemed to be lowering its head rope. It didn’t swing. It didn’t play. It lowered its rope. It seemed to slow down the wind. He lowered the wheel. The rope became more and more loose and sagged. Meanwhile, three kites were forming a line in front of number seven, taking their places to cross. Red, yellow, white and black. As they watched, the black and red ones started to panic. Only one red one remained. He stopped the wheel. Kali’s eyes widened and he fell down. It was not too low, but it landed on the left side of number seven, which was low. There were only a few trees. He pulled it to the right and held it and lifted it. He circled it four or five times. Number seven didn’t move, just a little. Kali's eyes were close to number seven. I don't know if it was because it was low. It was because the wheels were spinning. It must have been because the wind was not blowing. But when I pulled it up, I didn't realize that the rope was taut. I saw number seven floating in the air. Kali's eyes were pulled up quickly. I was shaking with the wooden handle. Along with Ata's cheering and Nyo Nyo's cheering, I heard a group of children cheering from behind.

"Even four lucky sevens were eaten by Kali's big eyes."

Ata came running and jumping closer. Ata was happy. He was happy to see Ah. He had the happiness of a sixth grader.

“My brother is a kite artist.” | He took the bike. He laughed out loud. He rolled up his sleeves and noticed his palms. The left palm was hot. The right index finger and thumb were numb. He sat back down where he had been sitting. He spread his palms. They were red and swollen. He hadn’t flown a kite in three or four weeks. The tips of his fingers, which had been stiff for a week or two when he started flying, had softened. He rubbed the copper tips of his palms, took out a cigarette and lit it. He took a few puffs and stared at the kites. He watched the kites flying in the wind. At that moment, the sun’s rays were getting weaker. He saw the shadow of a cloud passing by.

The clouds are moving in the blue sky. "I don't know if I'll find the rainbow, brother."

I looked back to the southwest. The clouds were neither dark nor dirty. They were just white.

"I don't think it's going to rain. It's just going to be cloudy."

I answered quickly. The sun was no longer hot and I walked forward. It seemed like I was about to take off from the high ground. I looked at Nyo Nyo. Nyo Nyo was walking east, where the adults were flying their kites. Nyo Nyo's kite was only about four and a half yards high, and one line was not tied properly, and the other line was shaking its tail and shaking its head. Nyo Nyo... Lift it a little. It's getting windy, he shouted. Nyo Nyo lowered it and raised the kite. As the wind picked up, the kite became still and the string became tight. I heard a loud scream from the back of the circle. I turned around. A group of children were flying kites with bamboo branches tied to the tops of sticks and poles. A white kite flew. I, U Aung Mi Aung, was tied to a stick and a pole. A red sedan approaching them stopped and waited.

There were sounds of shouting and arguing. The white kite was torn apart before it even hit the ground. It swerved around the children and flew onto the grass. It must have been someone who had just arrived to fly the kite.

"Brother, I cut off the kite that flew over there..."

Ata shouted from a distance. He saw a yellow kite break. Ata ran to him. My brother, go fly. I will fly the yellow kite high up, he said, and ran away. He put the cigarette in his mouth and put it in the air, which was not too strong. He could hear the sound of a car close to his ears. A red sedan stopped under the shade of a coco tree. He turned around. Twenty-four years old. A woman who must have been two or three years younger than him. She came down with a kite and a reel in her hand. She didn’t want to look at the length of the kite, so she held back Kali’s gaze as she came down. “Did you fly this kite?” He pulled it away so that it wouldn’t tangle with the child’s kite with the tail. “Yes.” “Did you fly the number sevens earlier?” he smiled. He nodded and held the cigarette in his left hand.

"Yes, sir, there are four. The last one was lucky. It was too low and didn't get tangled in the tree branch."

"Don't you understand the rules?"

"It's good for you and your family to have discipline."

I looked at the kite in the woman's hand. The number seven, which the Atas call lucky seven.

"Are you the one sending Seven?" "Yes."

A trembling yes. He couldn't resist. The little girl was so graceful. Her voice and gaze were not graceful. Not beautiful. Her posture was stiff and stiff. She looked at him for a moment and then moved her eyes to the kite.

"If you don't want it to fly, why don't you put a tail on the kite? Then no one will come and cut it off."

The woman said, "What are you doing..." abruptly and took a step forward. She turned her face away. He deliberately didn't look at her. He was playing with the air, spinning and spinning.

"Tell me what you said."

"No one can fly a kite with a tail. That's the rule of this arena."

"I don't need to say anything about the first three. The next one//

"You shouldn't have cut it."

"I told you so. Or should I pay for all four of them that were cut off?"

I don't know if she meant to say "let me go like a child" or if she meant to say "I will make amends." The woman seemed to be angry. She threw the kite and the kite onto the grass and leaned against it.

"I'm not asking for favors. I can't even get my kite to fly properly. You're just trying to get it to fly again because the string is not right. Don't you understand that much?"

I took a look as I rewound the rope and lowered it. A long-sleeved denim shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. The shirt was worn outside the trousers.

"If you haven't caught the wind yet, it's better to say it hasn't happened yet." "What?"

What a loud, piercing voice. I wanted to laugh after saying it. I put the cigarette back in my mouth and regained my composure. How could I speak from a place hidden by the trees, six or seven hundred yards away?

“It would be better if people like you didn't come and play in this stadium.” “Yes.” “What did you say?”

“I said yes. If I come to play the next day, I will ask your permission. I don’t know if you own the field.”

He pursed his lips and stared intently.

"You speak very vulgarly."

"Honestly speaking"

"The word 'field owner' doesn't compare me to a ghost, does it?"

"Yeah... I don't really know what that means."

The sound of the kite fluttering, the wind blowing below.