Lost Kite: Short story on letting go
A charming town surrounded by a glittering river that reflected the sky and undulating green hills was home to the Lost Kite Rohan. In the settlement known as Sundargarh, time appeared to stand still. The sound of birds singing, children laughing as they ran barefoot on the dew-covered grass, and the soft buzz of locals beginning their day filled the mornings.
Ten-year-old Rohan was a creative child whose eyes glowed when adventure was mentioned. His favorite item was a scarlet kite with golden tails that his late grandpa had given him. The paper was thin but durable, the kite was made with affection, and its tail was decorated with exquisite patterns of small golden stars. It was no ordinary kite.
His grandpa had said, “Fly this kite high, my boy,” and he had given it to Rohan with excitement. “Let it remind you that dreams have no limits.”
The kite became Rohan’s regular friend after that day. Because he thought the sun had the power of hope and brightness, he called it Surya.
The Pleasure of Air Travel
Rohan and Surya would race to the broad fields by the riverside every morning after Rohan finished his duties. The kite’s golden tails glistened in the sunshine as it flew high, its vivid crimson streak piercing the blue sky. As he saw Surya dance with the wind, Rohan would clutch the spool, his heart swelled with pride.
Charmed by the spectacle, the people often stopped to watch the child and his kite. An elderly lady once said, “That kite carries more than paper and string.” “His dreams are carried by it.”
Holding the string made Rohan feel unstoppable. The kite represented freedom, a link to his grandpa, and an opportunity to explore the wide world outside of Sundargarh.
The Storm
Dark clouds collected in the sky one day as Rohan took Surya higher than before. Moments before, the wind had been playful, but now it was furious. The villagers yelled at Rohan to bring the kite down, but he was too captivated by Surya’s bravery to pay attention.
The string was abruptly shattered by a strong blast of wind. As Surya escaped and began spinning madly before being swept away by the storm, Rohan gasped.
He screamed, “No!” and chased after it. The kite flew further, vanishing beyond the hills, as his bare feet tripped across rocks and splashed through puddles.
The Look
Rohan had trouble sleeping that night. His thoughts replayed the instant the string snapped as he gazed at the empty spool in his hands. He headed out to find Surya the next morning.
He searched the riverbanks, traversed farms, and ascended peaks. He encountered others who had seen the storm but not his kite.
Rohan’s tale was heard by Mohan, an elderly kite-maker in a nearby hamlet. “Sometimes, things we lose are meant to teach us lessons,” Mohan stated as he gave Rohan a simple white kite. “Take this for now, but remember, every loss has meaning.”
Although Rohan thanked him, he felt empty. Surya was not the white kite. It carried neither his grandfather’s goals nor his affection.
After the Discovery Weeks, Rohan’s melancholy persisted. The white kite felt dead in his hands, yet he continued to fly it. He came to a hill he had never climbed before one day as he was idly wandering.He was amazed by what he saw from the top: a vast field of miles-long wildflowers, each bloom blown by a little breeze.
When Rohan observed the sight in the middle of the field, his heart skipped a beat. With its golden tails flapping as if they were waving at him, Surya was entangled in the branches of a single tree, its crimson paper worn but undamaged.
Tears were running down Rohan’s cheeks as he hurried to the tree. With shaky hands, he untangled the kite and cautiously ascended it. It was like seeing an old buddy again as he held Surya.
A Fresh Perspective
Examining Surya, Rohan saw how the kite had scratches, ripped edges, and fading colors from its voyage. It was still lovely, nevertheless, and told tales of the places it had visited.
Rohan reflected about the day he lost Surya while he sat under the tree. He understood that the reunion had taught him thankfulness, the search had taught him perseverance, and the storm had taught him resilience. Surya represented the lessons life had to teach and was more than simply a kite.
The Celebration
The hamlet had its yearly kite festival a few months later. Despite Surya’s battered look, Rohan made the decision to fly it once again. As the red kite flew high, its golden tails shining like rays of sunshine, the locals rejoiced.
“Your kite flies with the strength of its journey,” an elderly man remarked to Rohan. Although it isn’t flawless, it is strong.
Rohan grinned as he realized the greater significance. Surya served as a reminder that flaws and hardships strengthened things and individuals.
Conclusion
Rohan had a great sense of calm as he gazed up at Surya as the sun was setting and the sky was full with kites. He had discovered that in order to find new strengths, sometimes it was essential to let go. Once gone, the kite had come back with knowledge from a voyage well-taken, not simply memories.
To Surya, Rohan said, “My buddy, soar high. You are my inspiration, not just a kite.
Thus, Surya, a symbol of love, tenacity, and the unbreakable link between a kid and his goals, kept flying.
