Kites Over Kepong Metropolitan Park

The sun was already “stinging” a bit when the Lim family arrived at Kepong Metropolitan Park. In the backseat of the Proton Saga, 11-year-old Wei Han stared out the window, his arms crossed. Next to him, his older sister, Meiling, was busy scrolling through her phone, her face sour like a lime.

In the front, Papa was driving in silence. Usually, the car would be full of noise—Papa cracking bad jokes, Meiling complaining about homework, and Wei Han asking a million questions about dinosaurs. But that was before the “Bad Year.” That was before Papa lost his factory job, and Mama had to take a second shift at the bakery, and everyone started shouting or, worse, not talking at all.

“Wah, look at that! So many people,” Papa said, trying to sound cheerful as he pulled into a parking spot. “The sky is full of wau today.”

Wei Han looked up. The sky over Kepong was a bright, laundry-day blue, dotted with hundreds of kites—dragons, eagles, and simple diamonds—dancing in the breeze.

“So hot, Papa,” Meiling muttered, not looking up from her screen. “Later my skin becomes rentung (burnt) then you know.”

“Aiya, don’t be like that,” Papa sighed, his shoulders dropping just a little. “We just come for one hour, okay? For Wei Han.”

Wei Han felt a lump in his throat. He didn’t want to be the “reason” they were here. He just wanted things to be like before, when they used to eat nasi lemak together on Sunday mornings without Mama looking like she wanted to cry.

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The Giant Eagle

They walked toward the big grassy field near the lake. The air smelled like cut grass and roasted corn from a nearby stall.

“Okay, Wei Han, help me with this,” Papa said, pulling a large plastic bag from the boot. Inside was a huge kite—a traditional wau shaped like an eagle, with bright batik patterns of gold and purple.

“Is that the one from Atok’s house?” Wei Han asked, his eyes widening.

“Yes-lah. I fixed the frame last night. It’s strong one,” Papa said, kneeling on the grass.

Meiling stood a few feet away, under the shade of a small tree, looking bored. But Wei Han noticed she wasn’t looking at her phone anymore. She was watching Papa struggle with the nylon string.

“Papa, the knot is wrong-lah,” Meiling said suddenly, walking over. “If you tie it like that, the wind will just snap it. Give here.”

She grabbed the string. Meiling was a Girl Guide, and she was “terror” (expert) at knots. Papa stepped back, looking surprised but happy. “Wah, lucky you are here, Meiling. My eyes are already rabun (blur), cannot see the small hole.”

For the first time in months, Meiling didn’t roll her eyes. She expertly looped the string, her fingers moving fast. “Done. Wei Han, go stand over there. When I say ‘Run!’, you run like a crazy person, okay?”

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Taking Flight

Wei Han gripped the body of the eagle. It felt light but powerful, like it wanted to jump out of his hands.

“Ready?” Meiling shouted.

“Ready!” Wei Han yelled back.

“Run! Lari!”

Wei Han sprinted across the grass. His slippers went thwack-thwack-thwack against his heels. Behind him, the eagle caught a gulp of wind. It dipped, swayed, and then—whoosh—it climbed.

“Let go!” Papa shouted.

Wei Han released the kite. He watched as the gold and purple wings caught the sunlight. It looked alive.

“Release more string, Papa! Give it more!” Meiling was shouting now, jumping up and down.

Papa was laughing. It was a real laugh, the kind that came from his belly, not the fake “I’m okay” laugh he used around Mama. He was letting the string slide through his fingers, the plastic reel spinning with a loud zzzzzz sound.

“Wei Han, come hold!” Papa called out.

Wei Han ran back and grabbed the reel. He felt a huge tug. It wasn’t just a piece of plastic; it felt like he was holding onto a wild animal. The kite was pulling him, trying to drag him toward the lake.

“Eh, eh! Careful!” Meiling laughed, grabbing the string above Wei Han’s head to help him stabilize it.

The three of them stood there, huddled together, looking up. The eagle was high now, higher than the trees, higher than the nearby apartments. It was soaring above all their problems.

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The Tangled String

Just as they were getting the hang of it, a sudden gust of wind blew. The eagle swerved violently to the left.

“Aiyoyo! Papa, look out!” Wei Han screamed.

Another kite—a small, aggressive red one—had crossed their path. Their strings got tangled. The eagle started to spin.

“Don’t pull so hard! Relax the string!” Papa commanded, his voice calm but firm.

“But it’s going to fall into the lake!” Meiling cried, her face pale.

“Listen to me,” Papa said, putting his big hands over Wei Han’s and Meiling’s hands on the reel. “If we pull too hard, the string will break. If we let go completely, we lose it. We have to give and take. Understand? Follow the wind.”

Slowly, guided by Papa’s steady hands, they moved together. When the wind pulled, they gave some string. When it went slack, they reeled it in. It was like a dance.

The red kite eventually snapped and flew away, but the eagle stayed. It was a bit battered, and the string had a big knot in it, but it was still flying.

“See?” Papa said softly, his hands still resting on theirs. “Tangled is okay. We just need patience to fix it.”

Meiling looked at Papa, then at Wei Han. Her eyes were shiny, like she was holding back tears. “Sorry I was so langsy (arrogant) lately, Papa. I know things are hard.”

Papa pulled them both into a side-hug, even though the kite was still tugging. “I know, sayang. We are all a bit tired. But look up. As long as we hold the string together, we won’t lose the kite.”

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The Golden Hour

As the sun began to set, turning the sky into a beautiful mix of orange and pink (like a giant bowl of ais kacang syrup), the park became quiet.

They sat on the grass, sharing a bottle of 100 Plus and some crackers Papa had packed. The eagle was tucked safely back in its bag.

“Can we come back next week?” Wei Han asked, munching on a biscuit. “Maybe with Mama?”

Papa smiled and checked his phone. “Actually, Mama finished her shift early. She’s waiting for us at the mamak stall nearby. She said she wants roti tisu.”

“Yes!” Wei Han cheered.

Meiling stood up and brushed the grass off her jeans. She reached out a hand to help Papa up. “I’ll help Mama with the laundry tonight, Papa. You go rest.”

Papa took her hand, his face glowing in the evening light. “Thank you, Meiling. Truly.”

As they walked back to the car, Wei Han looked back at the park. There were still a few kites in the air, glowing like little stars. He realized that the “Bad Year” wasn’t over yet—they still had bills to pay and hard days ahead—but for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like they were drifting apart.

They were like the eagle kite: maybe a bit tangled, maybe a bit scarred, but definitely still flying. Together.