The Hunt for the Ghanti-Coil

Danish woke at midnight to a sound — "khat-khat!"

He peeked out of the window, and his breath stopped. Down in the street stood Chacha Rasheed — torch in one hand, his "Catch the Alien" notebook in the other. And the torch beam was sweeping across the mango tree — the very tree where Zib's ship was stuck!

"Zib!" Danish whispered. "Chacha Rasheed has reached the tree!"

Zib slipped out of the storeroom and came to the window. His big eyes lit up. "Don't worry, Danish! On Golmol we have a trick for times like this — a false light!"

He laid his four fingers on his wrist-band and pressed something. From the ship hidden in the mango tree, a tiny green light slipped out — blink, blink — like a firefly on the move. The light drifted off the tree, floated over the rooftops, and danced away towards the far end of the street.

"The alien light!" Chacha Rasheed shouted. "Stop! I will catch you!"

He jumped on his bicycle and pedalled after the light — and right before Danish's eyes, the light led him away down the street. A little later, a distant sound came — "DHARAAM!" — and then Chacha Rasheed's voice: "Th-this… this was a heap of grass! The alien tricked me!"

Danish shut the window and took a long breath. The ship was safe. But his heart was still thumping hard.

In the morning, Danish looked at the calendar. The Golmol Gate would close in eight days now. Eight days! And the ghanti-coil was still not found, the chand-pattar still needed a full charge, and the full-moon night was coming closer and closer.

"Eight days, Zib," Danish said. "We have to find the ghanti-coil today."

Zib nodded, but worry was in his eyes. "The ghanti-coil… it is like the heart of a bell. It rings and it coils. Without it, the ship cannot fly. But… but where will we find it?"

Danish thought. The old clock tower's bell had been silent for years. And Kareem Chacha's kabari shop was stuffed with old bells, clocks, and the strangest things. "Kareem Chacha's shop!" Danish said. "Every old thing in town ends up there."

After school, the two of them set off for the kabari shop. Madam the cat followed behind them, as if she too were part of the mission.

Kareem Chacha's shop looked like a museum — old fans, broken radios, rusty bells, clocks, and things nobody even knew the name of. Kareem Chacha himself was sitting on an old chair, drinking tea.

"Arrey Danish, my boy! What do you need?" he asked.

Danish gathered his courage. "Chacha, we need a… a bell. One that rings and… coils too."

Kareem Chacha laughed. "A bell that coils? My boy, what kind of bell is that?"

Just then Zib began giving everything in the shop his own names. "This is an iron samosa!" he said, pointing at an old iron. "And this is a sleeping TV!" He was looking at an old radio. "And this… this is a whistling bomb!" He had already picked up an old kettle.

Kareem Chacha laughed so hard that his tea spilled. "Danish, this friend of yours is very funny!"

Then Kareem Chacha pulled something out of an old box — a small brass bell, with a coiled wire wound inside it. The moment Zib saw it, his eyes shone, and his wrist-band gave a soft "ting".

"This is it!" Zib whispered. "This is the ghanti-coil! My ship recognises it!"

But now came the bargaining. Kareem Chacha said, "This is a rare thing, my boy. Five hundred rupees!"

Danish's pocket held only eighty rupees. His heart sank. Then Zib stepped forward and pulled a tiny glowing button from his pocket — a spare button from the Golmol ship, which glowed softly in the dark.

"Take this!" Zib said. "A very… I mean, this is a very special button! It glows in the dark!"

Kareem Chacha examined the button closely. "Arrey wah! This looks like an electric button!" Then he looked at Danish. "Alright, here is the deal — eighty rupees, this glowing button, and… and two samosas! Samosas with my tea, and the deal is done!"

Danish agreed at once. But when the samosas arrived, Zib ate one himself and gave the other to Kareem Chacha. "Bargaining needs strength!" Zib said with his mouth full. Kareem Chacha laughed so much that he wrapped the ghanti-coil in a cloth himself and handed it to Danish.

"Thank you, Chacha!" Danish said, and the two of them hurried out of the shop.

But right at the door, they bumped into Chacha Rasheed! He was getting off his bicycle, notebook in hand. "Kareem! I heard a blue light was seen here! The alien is somewhere around!"

Danish's heart jumped into his throat. Zib quickly threw a pile of old shawls over himself and hid behind a heap of old bells. But then he sneezed — "Ah… achoo!"

The sneeze made one of the bells ring — "ting-ting!"

Chacha Rasheed jumped. "The alien bell! It's here!"

At that very moment, Madam the cat slipped between his legs and tripped him, and Chacha Rasheed tumbled straight into a heap of old shoes. "My notebook! My torch!" he was shouting from inside the shoes.

Danish grabbed Zib's hand, and the two of them ran out into the street — the ghanti-coil safe in Danish's pocket.

On the way home, the two of them fell quiet. In the evening light, the mango tree was visible in the distance.

"Zib," Danish said softly, "aren't you scared? About going home… and leaving me?"

Zib stopped. Glowing tears came into his big eyes. "I am scared, Danish. But Ammi-Jaan is waiting there. And you taught me… those who live far away live close to the heart."

Danish's throat tightened. He glanced at his phone — it was still showing Golmol time, and there was still no new message from Abu.

"Yes," Danish said. "And you will meet your Ammi-Jaan soon. I promise."

Zib smiled. "You are my best Earth friend, Danish. I will tell everyone on Golmol about you!"

As evening fell, the two of them reached the mango tree. Danish opened the ship's lid, and Zib carefully fitted the ghanti-coil into its place. For a moment, nothing happened. Then…

"Ting… tong… ting!"

The ship gave out a sweet bell-like sound, its lights began to switch on one by one, and it started humming softly — as if it were singing an old song.

"It's done!" Zib jumped with joy. "The ghanti-coil is fitted! The ship has woken up!"

But at that very moment, the bell sound echoed down the street.

Down in the street, Chacha Rasheed — still wearing an old shoe on his head — stopped. He looked towards the mango tree, turned his bicycle around, and shouted with all his strength:

"The alien bell has rung! I am coming!"

And Madam the cat, sitting on a branch of the mango tree, narrowed her eyes at the ship's shining lights — as if she too knew that the game was about to get even more interesting.