Now she laughed bitterly at Rasool for his plants.
'When there is so much hate,
do you think people will fly kites?'
'What's happening mow in our country is just madness.
I can't go on. In the end people get tired of the war.
Rasool refused to lose hope.
'The kite I make will before peace.
It the kite-maker 31 will fly high in to the skies and even the gods will listen to our prayers,'
Later,Zaheera agreed it was the finest kite he had ever made.
It was shaped like a dove,
and its beak held the olive branch of peace.
Rasool had even fixed silver bells on its legs to make it sing with the wind.
But no one else thought it was any good.
'It won't fly very far'they all said.
'It heavy, and look,
there isn't any wind yet'.
The night before Utraan,
Zaheera painted eyes on both sideees of the paper,
while in deep black.
Rasool laugh at her.
'Do doves really have eyes like that? I think you look rather like the chicken's eyes'
'Be quiet',
she replied, half crossly,
hafl smiling.
'In my grandfather's house,he kept doves.
I know, I used to take of them'.
An old pain returned with that memory.
Zaheera's grandfather's house was on the otherside of border-a family divided by one of history's strange turns.