The Call from Golmol

Zib's wrist-band was glowing green — "Ting! Ting!"

Zib's hands were shaking. He pressed the band to his ear, and his big eyes were already shining with tears — before the call had even connected.

"Danish…" His voice was thick. "This… this is my Ammi-Jaan calling."

Danish pulled him behind a cart at the edge of the mela crowd. "Talk here, where no one can see!"