P R O L O G U E

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    The sun was just peeking through the horizon lighting up the dark sky as the day began. People were starting to come out of their house and crowding the local areas of Rainwater Valley. Some carried out buckets to fill it with water from the lake for their families to live on for the day.

    Amongst those who were rushing to get their daily tasks done were two individuals, one mother with her daughter named Zara who was just a handful of years old.

All of a sudden, a crowd started parting down the middle of the street by a few shops. The people were all looking the same way, as if wondering what made the partition down the centre. Zara and her mother were both confused about what was going on, so they tried to see what was happening, only to guess that a person was the one who got everyone's attention.

     Zara's mother found one of her neighbours with the others and asked a quick question to the middle-aged women. "What is happening here?"

      The women looked quite interested in what was going on, too. She turned her head to Zara's mother and replied quickly. "Someone came here to get information for the news,"

      "What news?" Zara's mother asked.

       "I don't know. Let's see," the lady looked impatient.

       Soon enough, people who were at the front got a good view of the person who made this crowd. Some started walking back to their houses, while others continued their everyday drill. Zara's mother soon seemed uninterested in seeing who the person was.

      But Zara, as curious as a child her age is supposed to be, wanted to see that one person badly. She kept pulling on her mom's scarf so that she would pick Zara up so the little girl could get a good look. Although, her mother found a friend of hers, just a few steps away.

       Zara's mother held her daughters arm and brought her a yard away from the crowd that was now so much smaller than it was just minutes ago. Both of the women started talking to each other and complaining about how the weather is so much warmer. Zara easily slipped her arms off her mom's grip without any realization taking place.

      Without another thought, she walked back to the place where the one person stood, now just talking to a single man. They both shook hands as Zara took her first look at the one who got so many gathered around.

      It was a man. Around Zara's dad's age as she guessed. He had a kind looking face, his eyes roaming around the area, taking a bit of it in and grinning each second as if what he saw pleased him the most. His dark hair framed his face and went down into a speckled beard. He was clueless about Zara, standing right there in front of him.

Only a few seconds later though, he looked down and saw the little girl, her eyes huge with wonder about who this person was. The man instantly smiled.

"Hey there little one," he greeted with joy. Zara remained silent, not sure what to say. "What is your name?"

"Zara," the child whispered, although, it was loud enough for the man to hear.

"I am Mahir. Nice to meet you," Mahir held his hand out to shake Zara's hand. She didn't know exactly what to do, but did lend her hand out. Her tiny hands were gently shook by Mahir's large ones. "Can I take a picture of you for my travel diary?" He asked.

"What's a picture?" Zara asked.

"Hmm," Mahir tried to think of how to explain it. "Here," he took his camera that was buckled into his pocket and went through it and found pictures of other children that he took at a city. "This is a picture. It is there to collect memories," he said. "I want to take a picture so that I can always remember this day, when I talked to you,"

"Okay," Zara agreed. "You can take a picture,"

Mahir asked a stranger that was passing by to take the picture. It took him an entire minute to teach that person how to click the buttons on the camera. Not a single person at Rainwater Valley knew what a camera was. The stranger was actually pretty annoyed but did not deny.

The person had agreed to take only one picture, so when he did, he gave the camera back to Mahir and walked away. Mahir was sort of disappointed because neither him nor Zara were ready for photo to be taken. He was slightly cross only until he gave the image a look on his camera.

"It turned out nice," he grinned. "See? It's you," Mahir told Zara, showing her the photo.

"Wow, it is me," She was amused. "Can I also have the picture like you do?"

Mahir's smile faded a little. "Umm..." he couldn't give Zara the camera. He had lots of pictures from his travelling that was in there. "I cannot give it to you right now. But," he tired to think of something. Mahir did not want to deny the child who looked up at him hopefully.

"Okay let's do this," he said and took a bag he had on his shoulder. He tried to find papers in it, only to fail and find one piece of thing to write something on. It was a printed photo.

"Here," he got a pen from his shirt pocket and wrote down a number. And then showed it to Zara. "This is my number. When you get the chance, call me with this. It is a house number so no matter what, you will definitely find me by calling this," he explained. "And then I can try to give you the picture sometime. By sending it perhaps,"

Zara did not understand what he meant by calling, but she did not question it. Instead, she happily took the paper, only to turn it around to find the photo on it.

"Is this a picture, too?" She asked.

Mahir looked at it, and smiled. "Yes,"

Zara eyed the picture and took it in. There were two boys in the picture, one sitting on grass, while the other had a stick in his hands, held up high. They were young children, just like Zara. The picture was colourless, yet the smile on the boys' face made it the most colourful thing ever. It made Zara happy.

"Who are they?" She asked Mahir.

"My sons," he responded. "They are close to your age. That one is my oldest son, Rizwan," Mahir pointed at the one sitting on the ground. "And that," he started as he pointed to the one with the stick held up at the sky. "Is my youngest son, Arzaan,"

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05/12/2018

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