Mehreen tells me a story of a splendid kite she once caught as a child. It was a kite even bigger than her! It was very wide and had beautiful colors. When she had seen it in the sky amongst dozens of other kites, it was the only kite she could look at.
It was one of those perfect, windy days—most likely springtime—when the breeze turns lively and restless. Whenever the wind picks up like that, every child and teenager in the neighborhood becomes a kite flyer. These are exactly the kind of afternoons when a kite might drift down from the sky and land on someone's rooftop.
Mehreen had been waiting for precisely such a moment.
She stood in one the open terrace of her house alongside her two older and one younger brother. The roof had no parapet or railing—just a flat, fearless expanse open to the sky.
All four of them kept their eyes lifted, pointing out different kites, quietly admiring and wishing their parents would give them the money to buy one as well. They scanned, wishing for a kite to come tumbling earthward.
Then Mehreen saw it.
A kite larger and more striking than any other in the air. It's colors and design were completely unlike the usual ones—something special, almost regal.
And fortune smiled: it's string suddenly parted. Freed, the kite began a slow, graceful descent, swaying and turning with the currents of air.
The siblings tracked it's path. The moment they understood it was drifting their way, a wild cheer erupted. Their shouts grew louder and more jubilant as the kite came nearer, and nearer...
...and then landed—on the rooftop of the house right next door, just beyond their reach.
Her brothers were disappointed but Mehreen refused to accept defeat.
Without hesitation she leaped the three-foot gapbetween the two houses and landles squarely on a wooden charpoy that someone had left out to sun.
Her brothers exploded with delight the instant they saw the magnificent kite cradled in her arms. They waved frantically, urging her— "Quick! Climb back!"
Mehreen scrambled up the rough brick wall, fingers finding every crack and ledge. By then the neighborhood children who had also witnessed the kites fall had rushed inside the neighboring house through the front door. They could only stand and stare as she made her escape with the prize.
Back on her own roof, her brothers commended her for her bravery and held the kite one at the time to admire it.
They never flew the kite.
Her parents triumphantly hung the splendid kite high on the wall like a trophy to admire. For weeks—maybe months— it remained there, admired by everyone who passed through the house...until one day her cousins' little ones finally got their hands on it and, in their eager play, tore the beautiful thing to pieces.