The location was right. Indifferent residents, potable drinks, and most essentially, robust gusts coming off the Arabian Sea. Yes, Daman was the place. What we needed was a location. First however, we were going to petition the local higher powers for benediction.

Though most modern religions like to pat themselves on the back for being fiercely monotheistic, they fail to truly live up to that claim. Islam's Mohammed, Christianity's Saints, Catholicism's Trinity, Jainism's Thirkanters, Sikhism's Gurus, etc. contradict this. Ancient Hinduism proudly embraces the polytheistic tendencies of humans, involving an ever-evolving pantheon of gods shifting in and out of fashion. The biggest of players, the Vishnus, Shivas, Ganeshas, Durgas, Parvatis, Laxmis, etc. are universally revered. Many other minor gods are specifically associated with particular needs and issues: There are gods for unmarried women, sailors, cripples, and cricket players. Gods for home, cooking, hospitals, and trains. In the past decade, feminist businesswomen have deified a fictional character from a Bollywood film, granting her apotheosis. As priorities and values change, some gods of old fall into obsolescence while others adapt, "updated" with new attributions. All contend for worship in what is essentially a spiritual popularity contest, with their esteem directly tied to their personal relevance in people's lives.

So with the importance of kiting here, we estimated that out of the 330,000,000 (yes, millions) or so known gods, there should be at least 20,000 or so venerated as Gods of Kite Flying. Flowers and incense at the ready, we stopped at another roadside temple on the morning of day three in search the figure we needed to appease.

random hindu temple

eager to get to the flying, we considered the first god, or goddess actually, at length. we decided a kite goddess would not wear so much restrictive clothing for such a mobility requiring activity, and certainly not a hat. Also, what she was carrying was neither a kite nor spool of string.

we already know what the lingam's all about

this frolicking duo held some appeal, one of them is even trying to fly. his friend though should be holding his string, not trying to grope his rope.

although absolutely not bearing the proper spirit or emblems, we did make an offering to The Lumpy God

we understand the love of infanticide and all, but does it really need a deity?

whatever

we even considered the lord of fascist houseplants

in the deepest sanctum of the temple, restrained behind ancient iron bars, the blurry god appeared an embodiment of evil

Leaving the temple unfulfilled and unsanctified, gnashing our teeth over our apparent failure, He appeared.

Just out of reach above us, bearing our number in kites, a Living Avatar of the Art. We beseeched him for guidance. Gazing steadily, he didn't offer a Gesture. With one sage finger pointed skywards, he didn't indicate "up" before not disappearing, his inward smile not lingering with Cheshire hesitation. He simply told us we needed to find a good rooftop.

Admiring our oddly shaped hotel, an attempt at some kind of Luxor revival look, we looked up, to the roof. Harkening the boy's words, we made our ascent. There was to be our Temple on the Mount, our St. Peter's Church, our Mecca and Medina. In quiet solitude, we strung our kites, prepared our spools...

and flew.