Holiday hush, construction and kites

the non-avian kind

With the holiday, a hush falls over the neighbourhood. The silence stretches out, delightful, relaxing—almost tangible.

It doesn’t last.

But then again, I didn’t expect it to.

One house holds a large, well-attended party. It’s genteel raucous.

Music bounces across from tall buildings in the distance some nights, but not as often as I’d expected.

And after a break of a day or two, the construction resumes on the building two over from me, the one that lines my neighbour’s large yard at the back. The old, low house that used to occupy the space was demolished last year at just about this time, and the land, scraped and cleared, has sat empty ever since.

Not any more.

It rises, a floor at a time, groupings of iron rods standing tall to indicate another is to follow.

I say it’s two houses over, and that’s true, but only because the closest house is near enough that I could take a large step from the ledge of the small balcony off my living room and be on the edge of their roof. Cross their balcony, and the new construction is another step or two away. The workers and I will soon be on eye-level when I’m at my desk.

**

Across rooftops, there are flashes of color as pairs of people try launching their kites. I find one on my roof in perfect condition: red and black paper crossed by bamboo struts, which I have learned are called spars, its colorful string caught somewhere above. A few days later I find the kite and a pile of its string sitting neatly on my balcony’s aging mudha. With no way to know who it belonged to, I am thinking of using it as wall décor.

There’s another kite on the roof, too, caught on the barbed wire atop the largest of the two water tanks (I’ve thought for years they were the same size, primarily because of the perspective I usually see them from, but one is actually a little smaller). The barbed wire is to make the top of the water tanks less inviting as a napping spot for monkeys. At least that’s what I’m assuming, considering that most of the houses around haven’t topped their water tanks with barbed wire, and said water tanks are instead often topped by snoozing simians.

This kite is orange and white, and now hanging in several pieces that blow cheerfully at the lightest breeze. The plastic appears to have once been packaging of some sort: there’s writing on it too. I wonder if it’s homemade. Looking at it more closely, I see the constant movement has fooled me: while a strut and a small piece of orange and white hang loose, the body of the kite is intact. If I could edge around to it safely, I would, but it’s on the wrong side of the stairs and the water tank platform has no ledge. It would be a nice addition to my burgeoning kite collection though, so here’s hoping it falls down to the roof proper on its own.