Goodbye, Zib — Salaam from Golmol!

The moon-plate's blue light was flickering — now bright, now dim — like a lamp about to go out.

Danish's heart was beating hard. The lights in the sky were gathering in circles above the mango tree. Zib stood beside the moon-plate, glowing tears filling his big eyes.

“Zib!” Danish said. “Don't panic! We will fix it! Tell me — why is the charging stopping?”

Zib looked up at the sky, then at the branches of the tree. “Danish… look! A big mango branch has bent in front of the moon! The moonlight cannot reach the plate! The plate needs straight moonlight, otherwise it… falls asleep!”

Danish looked up. It was true! The wind had bent a big branch across the moon. The moonlight was tangled in its leaves, and the moon-plate was flickering in the dark.

“I am going up!” Danish said.

“Careful!” Ammi called from below. “Slowly, my boy! Do not fall!”

Danish climbed the tree. The branches swayed, leaves brushed his face, but he did not stop. He caught the big branch with both hands and gently pushed it aside.

In that very moment, the moonlight poured down — straight, shining, as if the sky had opened a window.

The moon-plate suddenly blazed!

The blue light grew so strong that the whole tree was bathed in blue. Little moons began to shine on the plate — one… two… three… four… five! And then the bell-coil rang out: “Ting!”

“Ting! Ting! Ting!”

“It is done!” Zib shouted joyfully. “The moon-plate is fully charged! The bell-coil is ready too! Danish, you did it!”

Danish climbed down and hugged Zib. Both of them were laughing. Ammi clapped. Even Madam the cat flicked her tail, as if she were happy too.

But just then, Zib's wrist-band began to shine brightly.

There were no longer three moons on it. Now a single big, round, full moon was glowing there. And a soft sound came from the band — as if someone far away was calling.

Zib's eyes went wide. “Danish! Today… today is the full moon! The Gate… the Gate has opened today itself! The Golmol Gate came early!”

The lights in the sky grew even brighter. Above the mango tree, a round door of light began to form — perfectly round, like a door from Golmol itself.

Danish's heart stopped for a moment.

This was that night. The night of goodbye.

“Zib,” Danish said softly. “You have to… go? Right now?”

Zib nodded. Glowing tears filled his eyes again — blue, shining drops that turned into tiny lights as they rolled down his cheeks.

“Yes, Danish. The Gate does not stay open long. If I do not go today, I will have to wait… a whole year.”

“A whole year?” Danish's voice trembled. “No! You must go today. Your Ammi-Jaan is waiting for you.”

Zib took Danish's hand. His four fingers tangled with Danish's five. “Danish, you are the best friend. On Golmol too, there is no friend as good as you.”

Danish wiped his tears and smiled. “And you too. Now hurry! The Gate will not wait!”

Ammi stepped forward. She had packed a small bundle of samosas for Zib. “Here, Zib, my boy. For the journey. And this… this is from me, for your Ammi-Jaan.” Ammi handed him a small letter — written in Urdu: “Your son made my son a true friend. Thank you.”

Zib pressed the letter to his chest. “I will give it to Ammi-Jaan. She will be so happy!”

Then Zib looked at Madam the cat.

Madam sat under the tree, watching him with her big eyes.

Zib went to her slowly and placed his small blue hand on her head. “Goodbye, little security guard. You are the bravest cat.”

For the first time… for the first time, Madam pressed her forehead against Zib's hand and meowed loudly. As if to say: come back soon.

Chacha Rasheed puffed out his chest and saluted Zib. “Zib, my boy! You are my biggest secret! I deleted your photograph, and today I promise — Alien equals Friend! This will stay in my heart, not in my notebook!”

Zib laughed. “Chacha, you are the best UFO expert! Your story saved us!”

Then Zib took a small, round, glowing pebble out of his pocket. It shone with blue light.

“Danish, take this. It is a sitara-phone.” Zib placed the pebble in Danish's palm. “This is from me. On every full-moon night it will glow — and you will hear my voice. I will talk to you from Golmol. Promise!”

Danish held the pebble tightly. It was warm, as if a tiny moon were trapped inside it. “Promise!” Danish said. “Every full-moon night!”

At that very moment, a taxi horn sounded at the street gate.

“Beep! Beep!”

“Abu!” Danish said. “Abu has come!”

At the gate stood a tall man — a bag in his hand, tiredness on his face, but joy in his eyes. Abu Imran! Abu, come from Dubai!

Danish's heart was pulled in two directions. On one side was Abu — whom he had waited for for months. On the other side was Zib — whose ship was about to fly.

Ammi put a hand on Danish's shoulder. “Go, my boy. Hug your Abu. Zib will understand. Love never holds anyone back — it gives them the way.”

Danish ran towards the gate.

“Abu!”

“My boy!”

Abu lifted Danish up and hugged him. Danish closed his eyes. Abu's smell… the smell of home… after so many months!

“My boy, what are these lights in the sky?” Abu asked in wonder.

Danish smiled and looked up at the sky. “Abu, you came exactly on time! It is a meteor shower! Look, how beautiful it is!”

Chacha Rasheed jumped in at once. “Yes indeed! A meteor shower! I told everyone before! Look, everyone — it is a wonder of nature!”

Abu laughed. “Wow! I came from Dubai, and the sky welcomed me with lights!”

Then Abu took Danish's hand, and together they looked up at the sky.

At that very moment, Zib's small round ship rose slowly from the branches of the mango tree. Blue light shone beneath it. From the ship's window, Zib waved his four-fingered hand.

“Danish! Goodbye! Salaam from Golmol!”

Danish raised his hand and waved. “Goodbye, Zib! Safe journey!”

The ship rose higher and higher… towards the round door of light. The door shone, the ship passed inside it, and then… silence.

The sky was clear again. Only the full moon was shining.

“What a beautiful night, my boy,” Abu said.

Danish opened his palm. The sitara-phone pebble was glowing softly.

“Abu,” Danish said quietly. “I want to tell you a story. A story of a true friend.”

Abu put a hand on his shoulder. “Tell me, my boy. I will listen all night.”

At dawn, Danish and Abu sat on the roof. The sun was rising. Danish had told Abu everything — Zib falling into the mango tree, the soap that was “sweet ice”, the prize at the mela, the bell-coil, the moon-plate, Chacha Rasheed's torches, Madam the cat, and the goodbye.

Abu listened to it all. Then he hugged Danish.

“My boy,” Abu said, “I am proud of you. You brought a friend home, and you kept a secret in your heart. That is what true friendship is.”

Danish smiled. “Abu, you came back. And Zib reached home too. Today both of us are happy.”

“Yes, my boy. Today both of us are happy.”

---

Many months passed.

One night the full moon rose again. Danish stood on the roof. In his palm was the sitara-phone pebble.

Suddenly the pebble began to glow — blue, warm, alive!

And then a familiar, laughing voice came through:

“Danish! Salaam from Golmol! Ammi-Jaan says… next time, send more samosas!”

Danish laughed — and tears of joy came to his eyes.

He waved at the moon. “Salaam, Zib! We will talk on the next full moon! Promise!”

The moon was shining. The pebble was shining. And somewhere far away, on Golmol, a small blue boy was counting samosas for his friend — one… two… three. Three samosas are never too few.