Three Moons Left — and Abu Lands Early!

The first thing Danish did that morning was check Zib's wrist-band.

Three moons were shining on it.

Only three.

Yesterday there had been four. Today, three. That meant only three nights were left before the Golmol Gate opened. Three nights — and then Zib would have to go.

“Three moons,” Danish said quietly. “Zib, time is running so fast.”

Zib counted the moons with his four fingers. One… two… three. Then he grinned. “Do not fear, Danish! Three is plenty! On Golmol, three means… very much! Like three samosas. Three samosas are never too few!”

Danish laughed, but somewhere inside his chest there was a small ache. Three nights. Just three nights.

After breakfast, Ammi Farah made a list. Now that Ammi was in on the secret, nothing was left half-done. When Ammi joined a job, the job got finished properly.

“Listen,” Ammi said. “Tonight the moon-plate goes under the moonlight. The bell-coil must be tested. The ship must be cleaned. And no noise under the mango tree. Understood?”

“Yes, Ammi!” Danish said.

“And one more thing,” Ammi added with a smile, “we must make samosas for Zib's journey. Nobody flies to the stars on an empty stomach.”

Zib clapped happily. “Samosas! Journey petrol! Without samosas, a ship does not fly, it only… sits!”

In the afternoon, Chacha Rasheed arrived. His bicycle still carried three torches, but his famous “Catch the Alien” notebook was closed. Chacha Rasheed had deleted that photograph, and now he was a friend, not a hunter.

“Danish, my boy!” Chacha Rasheed whispered. “Tonight something will happen in the sky. When the moon-plate charges, it will glow. People will see it. They will ask questions. We need a story ready!”

Danish thought for a moment. “What kind of story, Chacha?”

Chacha Rasheed puffed out his chest. “I am a UFO expert! I will tell everyone it is… a meteor shower! Lights in the sky? That happens every year! People will clap, take pictures, and nobody will suspect a thing!”

“Wow, Chacha!” Danish said. “That is a brilliant plan!”

Zib nodded seriously. “Meteor… shower? What is that? Is it like sky sparklers?”

“Something like that!” Chacha Rasheed laughed. “You make the light, I will handle the story!”

In the evening, everyone gathered under the mango tree. Zib's small round ship was hidden among its branches. The moon-plate — the battery that charged in moonlight — was brought down from the roof and placed beneath the tree. The bell-coil was fixed in its place.

But there was one problem.

Madam the cat.

Madam sat under the tree, her eyes fixed on the bell-coil. Every time Danish went near the coil, Madam flicked her tail, as if to say: this is my spot, move along.

“Madam!” Zib said. “You are a little security guard, but take a holiday today! Today is our duty!”

Madam stared at him, then slowly got up and sat on the other side of the tree. But her eyes were still watching everything.

When the moon rose, the moon-plate began to glow. A soft blue light. Then a little stronger. Danish held his breath and watched. The charging had begun!

“It is working!” Danish said joyfully. “Chacha, look! It must be more than half charged already!”

At that very moment, a noise rose through the neighbourhood.

“Look! Lights in the sky!”

“What is that?”

“Maybe… a meteor shower!”

People came out onto their rooftops. Children clapped. Someone said, “Wow! How beautiful those lights are!”

Chacha Rasheed stepped forward at once. “Yes indeed! It is a meteor shower! I told you so before! Everyone look, do not be afraid! This is a wonder of nature!”

The people clapped. Chacha Rasheed puffed out his chest proudly and winked at Danish. The plan was working!

But Danish's heart suddenly beat faster. The lights in the sky were not only the moon-plate's glow. These lights were coming from above — as if someone far away was sending a signal.

“Zib,” Danish whispered, “are these lights… coming from Golmol?”

Zib looked up at the sky. His big eyes shone. “Maybe… the Gate is getting ready. The Gate is saying: get ready, three nights are left.”

Just then, Danish's phone rang.

Ammi picked it up, and then her voice changed. “Danish! Come quickly! It is your Abu's call!”

Danish ran. On the phone was Abu's voice — but this time it was not coming from Dubai. Behind it was the noise of an airport.

“My boy!” Abu said. “Good news! My flight came early! I have landed at the airport! I am coming home!”

Danish's heart leapt with joy — and then stopped right there.

Abu was coming. Tonight. The very night the moon-plate was charging, the night lights filled the sky, the night Zib's preparations were only half done.

“Abu!” Danish's voice trembled. “You… you are coming today itself?”

“Yes, my boy!” Abu laughed. “I got an early flight, so I thought, why not come today! You stay at home, I am on my way!”

The call ended. Danish stood holding the phone.

On one side was Abu — whom he had waited for for months. Whose call he waited for every night. Who was now coming home.

On the other side was Zib — under the mango tree, beside the moon-plate, with three nights left on the count.

Danish looked at Ammi. Ammi put a hand on his shoulder.

“My boy,” Ammi said gently, “missing someone does not make love smaller. Your Abu was far away, yet he was still in your heart. Zib will go far away, yet he will still stay in your heart. Love is not measured by distance.”

Danish's eyes filled up. He thought: Ammi is right. But still… tonight, whom should I stay with?

Far away, Zib was watching him. He said nothing. He just raised his four-fingered hand and waved, as if to say: I am right here, friend.

Danish made his decision. He would stay with the moon-plate — tonight's charging was too important. Abu would reach home by morning, and Danish would meet him then. It was not an easy decision, but it was the one a friend had to make.

He ran towards the tree. “Zib! I am here! How is the charging?”

But there was no answer.

The moon-plate's blue light was flickering — now bright, now dim. The lights in the sky were gathering above the mango tree, round and round, as if a door was slowly opening.

And Madam the cat looked at the tree and meowed loudly.

“Zib?” Danish called out. “What is happening to the moon-plate?”

Zib looked at the plate, glowing tears filling his eyes. “Danish… the charging is stopping. The plate's light… is going dim!”

The lights in the sky grew brighter. The branches of the tree began to sway. And the moon-plate's light flickered once more — dimmer than before.