Go fly a kite!

I never thought much about kite flying. Of course, we flew kites. A cousin of mine used to construct elaborate box kites and our maid's son was better at getting kites aloft and we flew kites together. But I can't remember, for the life of me, if there is a kite-flying season in Madras.

I never knew there was a season for kite flying, really. There is one such in Bengal. I remember the first time I encountered the stalls and pavement vendors selling kites. It seemed to be a ritual, a seasonal thing. Kalachand, our ancient retainer, bought a few kites for my young son and me.

Kalachand was an expert when it came to flying the tail-less diamond shaped kites that are popular here. When I couldn't manage to get mine aloft, after many tries, he condescended to attach a tail to my kites. Somehow, I never got the hang of flying a kite that didn't have a tail. With a tail, though, it was different. I could make my kites swoop and dip, touch the clouds and chase the real kites that soar in the monsoon skies.

When we flew kites and tried to cut strings of others' kites in friendly rivalry and when Chikkoo or Tina from across the street trotted over with the cut kite, or when we struggled to launch our cousin's aerodynamically perfect on the drawing-board creations, it was all just childhood, pastimes and play.

It's different in Calcutta. I learnt that this kite flying was all about kicking off the silly season of festivals. Perhaps this flying of kites just after the monsoons is nothing more than a primitive thanksgiving for a good monsoon.

[I am omitting diacritical marks below, all right? You are warned.]

Visvakarma Puja is just the beginning of a round of merrymaking and the mayhem of festivals. They are not big on the elephant god here in Bengal, and they don't have Varalaksmi Vratam. They have a quaint thing called Rathyatra, and its attendant Ultarath, too. But it is the Visvakarma Puja that really puzzles me.

Visvakarma is the supreme architect. He built cities, constructed flying chariots and fashioned weapons for gods. He is a sculptor, master smith, master carpenter and craftsman. But he certainly isn't a deity.

He built Lanka, he built the city of Indraprastha for the Pandavas, he made weapons for the gods. He constructed the three flying cities for the three asuras, Vidyunmali, Kamalasksa and Tarakaksa, and then he made the earth a chariot so Siva could destroy them. He turned his son-in-law the sun on his lathe to reduce his brilliance, and used the detritus to make a discus for Visnu.

You can find out about Visvakarma here. But let me warn you, these are badly written. Worse, they are full of errors.

I had an entertaining half-hour when I consulted my trusty Vettam Mani. Puranic Encyclopaedia is a wonderful book for these things.

Mani cites references from Visnu Purana, Devi Bhagavata and a long rambling tale about Visvakarma's daughter Citrangada, and his amorous adventures with Ghrtaci from Vamana Purana. He also mentions references from Mahabharata, and Valmiki Ramayana, Agni Purana, and Uttara Ramayana.

Visvakarma is the son of Prabhasa, the eighth Vasu, and he is also a prajapati, says Mani blandly.

I had to consult my ancient Purvagaadhaalahari to discover that there are two Visvakarmas mentioned in Puranas. Compiled by Vemuri Srinivasa Rao, this was published in 1952, and is out of print and unknown today. But it is a gem of a reference book.

I learnt that Visvakarma is a prajapati, and he is different from the architect of the gods. Rao cites Bhagavata for the prajapati reference, and Brahma Vaivasatva Purana for a sanitised recounting of the romance with Ghrtaci. The offspring of the union are artisans, carpenters and smiths, sculptors and builders.

Visvakarma isn't a god, at all.

He is big in Bengal, though. All those who work with gadgets worship him on the Puja day. Mechanics, drivers and technicians all stop to consider him that day. One can see cars, worshipped and propitiated, sporting garlands and streaks of vermilion and sandalwood on the day. One can see air-conditioners and elevators, all sorts of equipment all bearing marks of worship.

In the south, we do this on Ayudha Puja, so let's not sneer.

One might laugh, but it makes sense to overhaul your machinery, whether it is a car or a computer. If one has to set aside a day for care and nurture of one's tools of trade, it might as well be dedicated to Visvakarma, the master craftsman.

But I wish I knew why he is depicted with a kite in his hand, though. Why is he invoked and worshipped by flying kites? Neither Mani nor Rao could enlighten me about this custom, nor could the Internet. True, they all tell me Visvakarma built flying chariots, but they are strangely silent about the kite. Ah, it must be a Bong thing.

Never mind. I'll just go and fly a kite now, shall I?

Cheers!