I feel a burning sensation in my right hand specifically in the middle of my Index finger. A string is running through my fingers as I try to keep my kite afloat. The string in question is reinforced with pieces of broken glass called Maanja. I feel someones else is trying to cut my kite I feel the presence of another string the duel is short the other person wins.
I am distraught with only one kite to fly I walk towards the stairs towards a connecting rooftop my father forbade me to go to. There all the older people were and more importantly all the spare kites. As I start climbing the step of stairs I was afraid I would be caught as I could see my father in the corner of m sitting not far sitting on a Charpai(an Indian Subcontinent bed) eating oranges.
I sprint to the top of the stairs where I see men and women sitting on a carpet with cushions and a feast of a dinner set up. But my eyes were fixed on the prize kites. There were dozens of them in the corner of the rooftop. I try to move across towards them but I feel someone’s hand on my arm. I look and it is someone I recognize a friend of my father. He asks me to sit down and eat something. I sit down as it both customary and my father has always instilled in me that I respect my elders. I don’t remember much after that except eating and talking to a women sittings across me.
I am anxious and slightly scared and ask to be excused as I was asked by my father not to go to this rooftop. I ask to be excused I hurry across back to the stairs. As I was halfway down the stairs I saw another friend of my father’s probably his best friend at that time. As he is walking up the stairs something seems off. He is not walking properly. He sees me and smiles. He is carrying a glass with him with some liquid in it that is golden in color. He asks me to take a sip.
I am in a hurry and decline the offer. He says “Drink it, my son, this is the medicine of pain” as he ever so gently forces me to take a sip. My mind has never registered this taste to date it is bitter and more. I uncontrollably move my face away from the glass and spit the liquid out. He is smiling I see to the place my father was sitting he is not there at the moment. But I see my brother and I run towards him.
I was six at the time
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