An old man was running around the field with a kite, we laughed at him, and then we learned the terrible truth
We came to a remote village for filming – just for a few days. The place was forgotten by God, with fog in the mornings and old barns.
On the second day we noticed something strange.
Every morning, exactly at eight o’clock, as scheduled, an old man in shabby trousers and old sneakers would emerge from a rickety house on the edge of the village. In his hands he held a huge, bright red kite.
And his ritual began. He ran across the meadow, splashing in the dew, puffing and wheezing. Only without joy.
– Fly, you bastard!.. Come on, fly, you’re a superhero, damn it!
At first we giggled, hiding behind the camera. Then we discussed it. There were a sea of versions.
– Maybe he’s taking part in some local competition?
– Or maybe he’s remembering his childhood.
– Or, – said our operator with a thoughtful face, – he’s just crazy.
But the real apogee of madness happened on the third day. There was no wind at all – not a breath. But the grandfather came out again. But not alone.
There was a woman with him – skinny, in a robe and with hairpins. He handed her the rope. She, without saying a word, ran across the field, dragging the kite behind her.
And then it started pouring. Thunderstorm, thunder, lightning. And in this chaos – there he is again. With an umbrella and the same kite. Jumping in puddles, trying to fly, soaking wet. We were simply shocked.
Finally, the last day of filming arrived. And then – like in a good movie – the old man comes out into the clearing again. Again with a snake. I couldn’t stand it and decided to ask him the reason for such strange behavior. Having learned the truth, we were all simply shocked. 😱😱
And then his wife comes out of the house and, adjusting her headscarf, shouts:
– So, grandpa, did you get your license?
– Of course I passed! All categories are now open!
We looked at each other. I couldn’t resist and came up to him:
– Excuse me… is a driver’s license for a snake?
He looked at me, narrowing his eyes:
– My son gave it up. He lives in the city now. He works. There is no connection here at all. Not a single tower works.
He unfurled the kite. And then I saw: taped to it was an old push-button Nokia.
– And this is his old phone. He sends me text messages when he can. And I’m here…running. I raise it higher and the message goes out. There’s no connection in the village.
He spoke calmly, without pathos. Simply – like a father who found his own way to be there.
