There was one Ancient banyan Tree that had grown through the cracks of an abandoned mosque—and little Ali’s kite had caught in its branches. The boy, barefoot and clad only in a torn shirt, ran along the cobbled stones of the narrow street to where his grandfather sat nodding dreamily in the sunshine of their back courtyard.
‘Grandfather shouted the boy. ‘My kite has gone!
The old man woke from his daydream with a start and, raising his head, displayed a beard that would have been white had it not been dyed red with mehendi leaves.
‘Did the twine break?’ he asked. to know that kite twine is not what it used to be.
‘No, Grandfather, the kite is stuck in the banyan tree.
The old man chuckled. ‘You have yet to learn how to fly a kite properly, my child. And I am too old to teach you, that’s…
View original post 1,320 more words
Comments