Neel took several steps back; then, when no one noticed that he had moved away, he turned and quickly climbed up the slope away from the adults busy at work. From the top of the hillock, he could see the half-broken houses, with their roofs caved in and collapsed walls. He could also see furniture strewn about.
He watched the people who were working tirelessly, trying to rebuild Arramandal to what it had been before the earthquake.
Pitching in
What they were doing didn’t seem to be something he could do too. “Building houses? Or rebuilding houses?” he thought. “I’m only a kid. How am I supposed to do this?”
“I agree with you,” said a voice right next to him and Neel jumped. A boy around his own age stood behind, his eyes on the activity below as well. “I didn’t realise I’d said it aloud,” said Neel.
The boy grinned. “Well, if you hadn’t said it aloud, I would have had to read your mind because I, Mohit-the-Mind-Reader, feel the same way! I don’t know what I’m doing here either!”
When Neel had arrived with his grandmother the day before, he had noticed Mohit trailing behind the man — obviously his father — who was leading this project to rebuild all the houses. Mohit had looked serious then, carrying a small notebook in his hands and taking down instructions.
You looked like you fit right in yesterday! Following the boss around and writing down everything!”
Mohit’s grin became wider. He pulled out a small notebook from his pocket and opened it. Nothing was written, but there were many sketches: of broken walls and chairs and tables and cupboards. “You’re a good artist!” Neel exclaimed, admiring the sketches over Mohit’s shoulder. Mohit shrugged. Then he winked at Neel and said, “Now you’ll see magic!” He shut the notebook with a snap, then threw it up in the air and opened it again, flipping through the pages rapidly.
This time, Neel saw sketches of super heroes, with every detail of their costumes perfect as far as he could make out in those quick glimpses he was given.
“That’s amazing!” he cried. “How – what…?”
“What’s my super power?” said Mohit. “I’m the master of illusion! A magician!”
Neel grabbed the notebook from Mohit’s hand, turned it around and opened it. “Just as I suspected!” he said. “You’re a faker! You pretend to be conscientious when you’re with the boss man and you do something entirely different the rest of the time!”
Mohit didn’t look upset at being found out. “There’s a reason for that,” he shrugged.
To be continued
