Saba and Abdul

Poles apart were two of the five in question for this story.Abdul was the only one who could split sides and make paper planes of people.Saba was an unholy monk.The Nizam ruled.

That day the sun beamed at normal range.The crowd had assembled for the morning durbar.Throngs mounted the hills to see what never in dreams thought of.

The children just brought out paper kites to match,or try and reach the winged one.

It was simple.The metamorphosis was an reactive response to the question from a dull artist.Ribs spawned wings.Wings grew from ribs and floated.The idea that floats gained credence.Then two things happened ;one the flight of the body caused a crisis.The kites did ditto.

Fly was what was in each of the mind of onlookers in that open durbar of the Nizam.To witness a span of wings sprouting was promising enough,but to view the flapping and flight of a real person who was just before not known enough was real.The kids matched the energy of the flying wonder.They just brought out the kites and strings.Fly with the skier was the motto and that morning a wonder yonder in blue sky.

The man took off,flew in circles and in oblivious fashion.Up and down, high low left middle or astray.Zoom zoom wah wah.People down there looked up in awe of the man gone boom and high.Abdul stayed calm till the event took a turn for the worse.He thought that the wings were unreal and spawned from a trick of the big boss.That that serpent was the tail of pearl or glimpse of fear were tested by him when he spent time with the maker of dreams.It was beyond his logic to mean his words caused a man to fly and take off random to somewhere.He was not disturbed by this and in tact enjoyed the moment.He takes off,I am that fuel and all is fine.The ruler looks and admires this distraction created by words.The people come out to see for real and true they see.A man flying on a joke.Interesting when seen first,but  impressions die down and lethargy strikes in,fly fly for how long.They scattered as they grouped,bored to see antics in the sky of the one who flew and decided that he never was in love with terra firma.But kids had a different idea.They could string kites to match the effort of Abdul.Take off tail on go go go.

It was man versus kite,a bulky body in contrast to paper kites,yet it seemed that the plot was divine.The man decided to go wham to try and disappear.The kites followed suit.

It was unique in that annals of the lost histories of the Nizam. Eiderabad was littered with colourful patterns of tailed paper and a winged compatriot.It was the highlight of an eventful day when  bored kids going in circles around celebrated the manner in which he flew.Then there was a lull,the moment all was right.Ok to say the least.Then the man peaked the kites followed the twist and there were a hundred colourful dreams lost.

Kites followed man.Abdul was mobbed and the Nizan courted a meeting of minds.String a kite to follow the risen one was his discourse.Then all the thread was strung to the fair kite very near to the flown person.Cubits and rolls not measured but only flowing to follow the risen mankite.