Ammi Learns the Truth!

Such a silence fell over the storeroom that even Zib's soft breathing could be heard. Ammi stood in the doorway. Her eyes went first to Danish, then to the small glowing shape under the blanket. From under the blanket, two big, shining eyes looked back at her.

Danish's heart was thumping so hard that he was sure Ammi could hear it too.

“Ammi,” he said quickly, “I will tell you the truth. This… this is not a toy. This is Zib. He is a child. A child who fell from the sky.”

Ammi stepped back a little. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Blue? Glowing? Danish, what is this?”

“He is an alien, Ammi!” Danish said. “But a good alien! He does not hurt anyone. He is sick!”

Just then the blanket moved a little. Zib poked out his small blue face. On his cheeks were glowing drops, and his eyes were so big that the whole storeroom seemed to fit inside them.

“Greetings, Ammi Madam,” Zib said in a trembling voice. “My name is Zib. I am not a thief. I am a school child. My home… my home is Golmol. A very far-away round home.”

Then he hiccupped — “Blup!” — and a tiny glowing bubble floated out of his mouth, drifted up through the air, and went “Puff!” and vanished.

Ammi watched the bubble. Then she looked at Zib. Then she looked at Danish. There was fear on her face, but behind the fear there was something else — the same look that came into her eyes at school when a child fell down.

“Ammi, look!” Danish said. “He has a fever! A glowing fever! He has caught Earth germs!”

Ammi came closer, slowly. She reached out a hand and touched Zib's forehead. It was hot, very hot. Zib shrank back a little, but he did not run away.

“What a fever!” Ammi said worriedly. “And this child is shivering!”

Two glowing tears rolled down from Zib's eyes. “Forgive me, Ammi Madam. I drank your milk. I ate your bread. I… I was hungry.”

Ammi stopped still. Suddenly a flash of understanding came into her eyes. “So it was you!” she said. “The empty glass of milk! The missing parathas! The bell sounds at night! I thought Danish had hidden a pet!”

“I am not a pet!” Zib said quickly. “I… I am a guest! A round guest!”

Danish tried not to laugh, but one look from Ammi silenced him.

“Danish,” Ammi said sternly, “you lied to me for so many days?”

Danish hung his head. “Ammi, I was afraid you would be angry. Or… or you would send him away. Zib's ship is stuck in the mango tree. He has to go home. The Golmol Gate closes in only six days now.”

“Six days?” Ammi repeated.

“Yes,” Danish said. “His ship needs the chand-pattar, which is still not charged. And we have fitted the ghanti-coil, but the ship will only fly when the full moon comes out and the Gate is open.”

Ammi looked at the calendar, then at Zib. Zib lay wrapped in the blanket, shivering, his glow growing bright, then dim.

“First the fever,” Ammi decided. Her voice was no longer a teacher's voice; it was a mother's voice. “A sick child needs rest first. The story can come later. Danish, bring a clean blanket. And wet a towel.”

Danish stared at her. “Ammi, you… you are not angry?”

“I will be angry later,” Ammi said, but there was a small smile on her lips. “First this child must get better.”

Ammi came back from the kitchen with a clean, soft blanket, a bowl of warm milk, and a plate of soft khichri. She helped Zib sit up, the way she sat up a sick child at school.

Zib saw the bowl of milk and his eyes lit up. “Moon water! Again!” He took a sip and then looked at the khichri. “What is this? A soft… a soft cloud?”

“This is khichri,” Ammi said, laughing. “Food for sick children.”

“Khichri!” Zib repeated. “Khichri of the soft cloud! Earth's food is very good!” He picked up the spoon and said, “This is a little boat! A boat for the cloud!”

Ammi laughed. She really laughed. For the first time in many days, Danish took a long breath.

While he ate, Danish told Ammi the whole story — the light falling from the sky at night, the round ship stuck in the mango tree, the ghanti-coil from the kabari shop, and Chacha Rasheed, who went everywhere hunting for the alien.

“Chacha Rasheed?” Ammi nodded. “I can handle him. But Danish, understand one thing. Now this secret is mine too. And secrets have rules.”

“Rules?” Danish asked.

“Rule one,” Ammi raised a finger, “Chacha Rasheed must not find out anything. Rule two, Zib will not go outside the house until his fever is gone. And rule three…” She paused and smiled. “Rule three is that Zib will learn one correct Urdu word every day. A teacher's order!”

“I will learn!” Zib said. “Today's word… kindness! Because you are kind!”

Ammi's heart melted. She stroked Zib's head. His big round ears were soft and warm.

Just then Zib said softly, “Ammi Madam, my Ammi-Jaan… she is on Golmol. When I was sick, she used to sing a round song. I miss her very much.”

Silence fell over the storeroom again. Danish said softly, “I miss Abu too. He is in Dubai. Video calls happen only sometimes.”

Ammi looked at them both — one Earth son, one sky guest — both missing someone far away. She put a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Listen, both of you,” she said gently. “As long as you are here, Zib, this home is yours too. And Danish, your Abu loves you very much, no matter how far away he is. Love does not stop because of distance.”

Zib nodded. His tears were still glowing, but now they were not tears of fear. “You… you are like Ammi-Jaan too,” he whispered.

Then Ammi hummed the same old lullaby she used to sing when Danish was small. Her voice was soft, and Zib's glow slowly grew dimmer. His fever was still there, but his breathing grew calm. He hiccupped once more — “Blup!” — and a tiny bubble drifted onto Ammi's hand and went “Puff!” Ammi laughed.

Just then a bicycle bell rang in the street — “Trin-trin!”

Danish rushed to the window. “Chacha Rasheed!”

Ammi at once dimmed the lamp and wrapped Zib well in the blanket. “Quiet! Not a sound!”

Outside, Chacha Rasheed stood at the gate. “Bhabi-ji! Bhabi-ji! Have you seen my notebook? It is stuck in a branch of the mango tree! And did you hear a bell? The alien's bell!”

Ammi went to the gate, perfectly calm. “Rasheed Bhai, Danish is not well. No bell rang in this house. Perhaps it was your own bicycle bell. Fetch the notebook tomorrow in daylight. It is dark now, do not climb the tree!”

“But my proof!” Chacha Rasheed said.

“The proof will still be there tomorrow,” Ammi said with a smile. “Go home and have some tea.”

Chacha Rasheed walked away muttering, but as he went he looked towards the mango tree. His notebook was still stuck in the branch, and below it sat Madam the cat, flicking her tail, as if she knew everything.

Ammi came back inside and shut the door. “We escaped,” Danish whispered.

“Not yet,” Ammi said. “Tomorrow night the moon will be bright. If Zib's fever goes down, we will try to charge the chand-pattar on the roof. Six days are not few, but they must not be wasted either.”

The night grew deep. Zib fell asleep in the soft blanket. His glow was now faint and calm, like a tiny lamp burning far away. Ammi switched off the lamp and walked with Danish to the door.

“Ammi, thank you,” Danish said. “You are the best Ammi in the world.”

“And you are the best friend in the world,” Ammi said. “Zib is lucky.”

Just then a soft bell rang — “Ting!” — It was not a sneeze. The sound had come from Zib's wrist-band.

Danish turned back. On the wrist-band floated a tiny round light, and in it were six little moons. One moon was flickering faintly.

Zib's eyes opened. He whispered, “Ammi-Jaan…?”

And at that very moment, outside in the street, the bell rang again — “Trin-trin!” — and a torch beam swept across the window.

Chacha Rasheed had come back in the darkness — a ladder in his hand, a torch on his head — and his eyes were on the highest branch of the mango tree!