Short Story - Magic of Kite
A boy named Osho lived in a town called Shikoku. Shikoku was surrounded by great greenery and high mountains.
Osho was not keen in studies. He was the only son of his parents. So, his parents were indulgent to him, they overlooked his naughtiness and mischief making.
Osho would set out of his home for school with his back-pack of books every morning. But on the way he played games and never reached school in time. The teachers complained to his parents but they never got tough with their loved son.
Osho was very fond of eating various tasty things. This had made him fat. His cheeks were pink and puffed. The eyes were blue.
Osho loved playing. Kite flying was his favourite game. He used to make his own kites. Once, he made a big butterfly shaped kite with colorful design. Whenever he flew his butterfly kite other kids gathered to watch it.
One day, he was flying his kite. The kite was flying high. Osho was so excited that he was reeling off the thread. And the kite was going higher and higher.
But what in excitement Osho failed to see that entire reel had spun off. He couldn’t even grab the end of the reel. The kite soared free.
Osho watched his dear kite break free. Tears came to his eyes. He ran after the kite and the dangling end of the reel. He ran and ran. The reel moved on out of his reach.
Osho was running out of his breath. He had reached into the freshly ploughed field. It was all muddy. Osho’s clothes got plastered with mud.
The morning turned into noon and it aged into the evening. Osho was still running after the kite and had climbed up a mountain. The kite was now coming down. Osho walked towards the falling reel end.
Suddenly the kite landed on the roof of the house on the mountain top. Osho realised that he had come far off his home and it was getting dark.
He went into the house. He found no one inside. He ran up to the roof and got his kite. It had become dark outside and Osho didn’t know which way his home was. So, he decided to stay the night in that strange beautiful house and go home in the morning. He found a lovely bed in a room and sprawled on it. He fell asleep in no time.
After some time some noise woke him up. He found greatly surprised that the house was bathed in bright light and fairies were dancing all around.
The fairies had golden hair and wings. An enchanting music was being played on. Osho thought that it was some dream. He rubbed his eyes. That brought a fairy to him.
Osho asked, “Who are you and why I am here?”
The fairy replied, “you came to get your kite and you are in fairy land.’
Osho saw fits kite by his side on the bed. It pleased him. Another fairy said, “Come, meet our queen. She just loves kids.”
Osho was taken to the queen of the fairies. She sat on a splendid throne wearing a diamond tiara. Her hand held a magic wand.
The queen of fairies caressed Osho and patted his cheeks lovingly. She ordered her maids to take good care of Osho.
The fairies played with Osho. They gave him pretty dresses to wear. He was served whatever he wanted to eat. But only after a couple of days he got fed up with that place and wanted to go home. He picked up his kite and walked towards the gate. It was heavily guarded. He was not allowed to leave.
Now, all the lovely things of that house looked useless to him. He badly missed his parents. He was being held there as the fairies loved him. Osho was a sad boy. The house was no better than a jail for him. One day Osho was sleeping. He saw a dream. His mother was sitting sadly in tears. His father looked gloomy. He asked, “Why are you so quiet, father?”
His father said, “We miss you, Osho…” And Osho woke up. Osho could not sleep. He looked at his kite.
He sighed. It had been many days since he had gone out and done kite flying. He wished he had not run after his kite.
Suddenly, an idea came to him. He sat up. He found out a strong string and ran up to the roof.
Day was breaking. Osho began flying his kite. The kite rose up in the air. Osho held the string tight which he had attached to the kite. He got lifted off as the kite rose higher.
The kite flew on and Osho hung by it. Then kite started losing height. Osho looked down. He got scared
He fell down. It was a muddy field. Osho was not hurt. But mud was all over him. He came out of the field and ran to his house. When his parents saw him they rushed towards him and hugged him.