Next day when Paras woke up he found something very peculiar about the behavior of his parents. They seemed very happy and excited. It wasn't a common expression. He checked if it had rained last night. No! The place was dry as ever.

After bathing Paras, his mother dressed him up in a clean white kurta and pajama.

“Are we going to grandmother’s?” Paras asked excitedly.

“No son! It’s your birthday”, said mother with a big smile on her face.

Paras was delighted as he remembered what day it was. Every year on his birthday his family went to nearby Ram temple to worship and then he get to eat whatever he wished from the market. He had one horse and a pair of ducks which got on his previous birthday. But this year was slightly different.

After offering prayers, his parent didn’t take him to the market. Instead, his mother gave him four Anna. She tied the coins on the edge of his kurta.

“Don’t lose this. Go buy some sweets. I know you like them. And share that with your friends at school,” said mother.

For a moment Paras felt like the richest kid in the world. After all, he never got any money before. He couldn’t help smiling. He knew what he would buy from this.

At 9:40 am he started for school. It was a bright sunny day. Paras was going to school with his friend Faguna. They were carefully, walking under the shade of big trees to avoid harsh sunlight. Just then Paras noticed something on a tree. It was his yellow kite!

It must had been stuck on that tree. He jumped with joy. It was the best day of his life, he thought to himself. With the help of his friend, he managed to pluck the kite out that tree.

Everything was fine! His message was still there! He just needed one more thing and then he could fly his kite.

He decided to skip school that day and go to the market to buy manjha. He told Faguna not to tell anyone about his plan and go to school.

***

A beautiful little boy in a white dress with a red tilak on his forehead was walking up and down the market carrying a yellow kite in his hands. Paras did not even notice that every other person was watching him. He was trying to find a kite shop. On the way, he saw one Jalebi shop. He wanted to have those but he told himself that he can have them some other day. He continued on his path and finally, he found a kite shop.

“How long is this?”, asked Paras pointing toward a kite-line.

“How long do you need?”, asked the old shopkeeper.

“The longest one”, replied Paras.

Shopkeeper pointed towards a bulky kite-line wheel.

“Will this go beyond the clouds?”, asked Paras.

“This one is so long that it will not only go beyond the clouds, but it can cross the sky.”, said shopkeeper looking straight into Paras eyes.

“How much for that one”, asked Paras.

“Five Anna”, said shopkeeper.

“But I have only four. Can you please give that for four Anna?”, he asked with innocent eyes.

After thinking for a while, the shopkeeper’s heart melted. He handed over the kite-line to Paras and took the four Anna.

***

Now he had everything. First, he thought of flying the kite in evening but then he realized that most of the kids fly the kite at the same time and he could not afford to lose his kite again. So he decided to fly the kite in afternoon. Also, he needed a place where no other kid would come, so he selected a deserted area just outside of his village where there used to be lush green fields, but now there was only barren land, waiting for rain.

The sun was blazing. Paras joined the kite-line to kite and made sure that it was tied properly.

Now there was no one who could stop him from sending his message to God. Paras started to fly his kite. The hot and dry air helped him to raise the kite higher. He recalled all the lessons learned from Bhuwan. Soon the kite reached very high but not above the clouds. Paras checked his kite-line wheel. About half of the string was used. He had to fly the kite higher. The sun made it very difficult for him to stare at the kite. Suddenly a strong hot wind blew and in a fraction of second the sharp kite-line cut his finger.

“Aaah, maaa...”, he cried.

Blood drops were dripping from his hand. And on hitting the thirsty soil, it disappeared in a second leaving nothing other than a red spot. He did not know what to do. Usually, this type of situation was handled by his mother. But now he was all alone.

He grabbed an edge of his white kurta with his wounded hand and pressed hard with other fingers. He was also carefully holding the kite-line on the other hand. He continued to fly his kite. He had decided that he would not give up. After some time, the blood stopped.

It was too hot to stay out in a dry area. His mother had never let him go outside in hot afternoon. He was also very thirsty and the hot air made it worst. His pink skin was burning in the sun, but he continued flying the kite.

About two hours had passed and now his vision started becoming a little blurry. Even the saliva of his mouth was dried.

The kite was looking like a coin-sized in the clear sky. He was trying very hard to look at kite but slowly his eyes closed and darkness fell. He felt the kite-line slipping out of his hands, but he could not do anything despite trying so hard. He fell unconscious on the ground.

***

Next day he woke up in his home. His mother and father were beside him along with some other villagers and his friend Faguna.

“How are you feeling son?”, asked father.

“I …. am good”, said Paras in breaking voice.

“Who told you to go to that desert on such a sunny day?” cried mother, “Why did you even go there? Do you know how much we were worried about you? What if something serious had happened to you? Promise us you will never go there alone.”

Paras was stunned by his mother’s tears and he could not speak anything.

“Why did you go there?”, asked father softly, trying to soothe the child.

“I went there to send a message to God that we need rain”, Paras said, keeping his eyes low.

Father shook his head at his child’s innocence. He could not believe that his son was so naive that he actually believed he could make God listen to him.

“Look outside. It didn’t rain. There is no God, son. If there would have been a God, he would have listened to you,”, said father in a strong voice.

“And no more God-stories to Paras. It has all happened because of you”, father said to mother and stormed out.

When father reached outside, he saw a yellow kite lying on the ground. He picked the kite. There was something written on it. It was his son’s handwriting, the cleanest and most beautiful he had ever seen. It read:

“Dear Lord Indra,

My name is Paras. I am seven years old. My father used to do farming. Since it is not raining here in my village, he has to go to town for work and he comes late at night.

Please give us some rain, dear God, so that I can play with my father again in his field and he does not have to stay away anymore.

Yours obediently,

Paras”

A drop of water fell on the kite. I was father’s tear. He felt guilty for behaving rudely with his child when all he wanted was his father to be home and available to him and his mother. A moment later he returned his gaze to his son’s message when he noticed that something else was written beneath the message in bold letters and it was not his son’s writing,

“Tathastu”

Then a moment later, another drop fell on the kite, then another, then another. When he looked above, trying to find the source of the drops, he noticed that it was raining.