Umbrella Rocket to Thunder

Chapter 1: The Broken Umbrella

Rain tapped the window like small fingers, and the sky over Pune gave a low growl. Aanya sat on the floor with her notebook open on her knees, drawing a rocket with three fins.

⟨Character 1⟩: That one was close. I am not looking at the window. I am drawing the fins, see? Three fins. A rocket needs three fins. The thunder can do what it likes.

⟨Character 2⟩: Guess what. Sixty runs. Sixty! I have been waiting all week for that score. Look at this page, it is all numbers in green ink. I wrote down every ball.

⟨Character 1⟩: You write in that book every night. I see the light under your blanket. What do you write in there, Rohan, the whole cricket match?

⟨Character 2⟩: Important things only. Cricket things, mostly. Hold on. There it is again, the rumble. Want to hear something? Thunder is just a big drum. Somebody up in the clouds is hitting it. Ba-doom. That is all.

⟨Character 1⟩: A drum does not shake the whole sky. It shakes my chest. I do not like it. I do not like it one bit.

⟨Character 3⟩: Pon va, pon va, the rain comes down, the little feet run round and round. Hmm, hmm. Where did my glasses go? I had them this morning. I had them while I was cutting the beans.

⟨Character 1⟩: Kamala. Why does the thunder come at all? Why does it have to be so loud? Nobody asked it to be so loud.

⟨Character 3⟩: The thunder comes after the lightning, like the clap after a squeeze. Some say it is the clouds bumping into each other. I cannot say for sure. But the sound is only a rumble, Aanya. It cannot reach in and hurt you.

⟨Character 2⟩: If a rumble could pick people up, this house would be empty by now. It only rattles the window and blows the rain sideways. Then it goes away and the puddles stay.

⟨Character 1⟩: I want to see it. The thunder, I mean. Not from under a blanket. From up close.

⟨Character 3⟩: Then you must go and find it. A little rocket would do it. Do we have anything long and silver with a broken back? An umbrella would be just the frame.

⟨Character 2⟩: There is one in the closet. The black one the wind bent sideways. One rib sticks out like a bent finger. Nobody uses it anymore.

⟨Character 1⟩: Then that is the rocket. I will ride it. I will be the pilot. Nobody else rides it. Draw the nose here, then the fins, then two windows so I can see Pune underneath.

⟨Character 2⟩: The nose cone should be my cricket ball. It is round, it is heavy, it goes straight. I can stick it on this end with glue from the drawer.

⟨Character 1⟩: Fine. The ball is the nose cone. But we need a motor. A real rocket hums, it does not just float.

⟨Character 3⟩: A motor, a motor. My shelf is full of bits and pieces. Now, has anybody seen my glasses? I have looked on the table and on the sofa, and they have gone off somewhere without me.

⟨Character 2⟩: Your glasses are on your head, Kamala. They have been up there the whole time.

⟨Character 3⟩: Ayyo, look at that. Up on my head, where I keep my hair and my good sense. Now we can work faster. Bring the umbrella, bring the string.

⟨Character 4⟩: On the floor, ⟨Character 4⟩ lifted his scruffy head, sniffed the cricket ball as it rolled past, and let out one small woof before flopping back down. Rohan nudged the ball with his toe, and ⟨Character 4⟩ chased it across the tiles, skidding on his sleepy feet.

⟨Character 1⟩: ⟨Character 4⟩, move, that is our nose cone. If you put teeth marks in the ball, we still fly. But not with drool.

⟨Character 2⟩: The umbrella is silver and it is already shaped like a rocket on its side. The handle becomes the tip, the bent rib becomes a fin. Aanya, turn the page. I want to see the plan.

⟨Character 1⟩: Here. The fins go at the bottom, like this. We tie the ball up top. And you turn on the big fan for the engine. Then everybody steps back, because I am the pilot.

Chapter 2: A Rocket Takes Shape

Morning light came in yellow stripes across the floor, and the rain had left the window spotted. The doorbell rang once, and ⟨Character 4⟩ threw his head back and howled like a small siren.

⟨Character 3⟩: It was the bakery boy, it was only the bakery boy, ⟨Character 4⟩. Sit. Sit down, the bread is here and nobody is at the door anymore. Good dog. Now, Rohan, hold the crumpled paper, I am cutting fins.

⟨Character 2⟩: Two cardboard fins already. Here is the rope from the old trunk, the scratchy brown kind. Tie the umbrella ribs with it, tight at the bottom, tighter than a shoelace. Then my cricket ball on the nose, glued in the middle.

⟨Character 1⟩: Does the bent rib go on this side or that side? It flaps loose when I lift my arm. If it flaps in the air, the whole rocket will wobble.

⟨Character 2⟩: Then it flaps on the left, and the left is the bottom. Bend it to match your drawing. There. Now it matches. See? Look at your own page, it is a picture of this exact thing.

⟨Character 2⟩: Right. The rocket needs a name. I have been thinking about it all morning. I say we paint it on the silver side and call it the Cricket Comet.

⟨Character 1⟩: It is my rocket. I am the pilot. The name goes under my drawing, the one with the windows, and it is the Umbrella Rocket. Not a comet. Comets burn up and nobody sits in them.

⟨Character 2⟩: Fine. The Umbrella Rocket. But I get to be the launch crew. And I get to count down, because I can count backwards faster than anybody in this flat. Watch. Three, two, one.

⟨Character 3⟩: Where did I put my glasses again? I had them when the bread came. I had them at the table. Now the table is only a table, and my glasses are somewhere else being useful.

⟨Character 2⟩: On your head, Kamala. Third time this week. It is always your head.

⟨Character 3⟩: Ayyo, so it is. Up on my head, next to my thoughts. Last week I hunted for them for an hour and found them in the fridge, sitting on the butter. Up on my head is much better. Much better.

⟨Character 1⟩: The rope is tied. The ball is glued. Goggles on. It looks like a real rocket now, with the ribs like fins and the nose like a silver egg. I am going to find the thunder. I am going to look right at it.

⟨Character 2⟩: Standing clear. The engine goes here, the big fan, and the red scarf behind it is the fire. It will shake, Aanya. It will hum. Hold the handle with both hands and keep your chin up.

⟨Character 1⟩: Both hands. Chin up. Ready.

⟨Character 2⟩: Three. Two. One. Umbrella Rocket, look up! The courtyard is clear, and Pune is waiting under the clouds by now!

The fan roared and the red scarf snapped out like a long flame, and the little rocket rose from the living room floor, tilted once, and floated out over the balcony rail. Kamala pressed her glasses to her face with one hand.

Chapter 3: Over Pune and Back

The wind pushed Aanya's hair back, and below her the roofs of Pune were small enough to cover with her hand. The rocket hummed, the red scarf flapped behind it, and the whole city rolled under her like a green and grey quilt.

⟨Character 1⟩: I can see the sweet shop! The one with the yellow awning, it is only this big now! Scooters are going round the corner like little beetles, and the whole street is shining from the rain. The rocket is holding. It is really holding!

⟨Character 2⟩: Keep the handle straight and look ahead! We are right under you, we can see your goggles! ⟨Character 4⟩ is trying to follow your shadow, the silly thing, he thinks you are a bird!

Ahead of her, a cloud the color of old silver hung low over the park. She leaned the handle forward and the rocket carried her into it, and the world went soft and grey and quiet all around.

⟨Character 1⟩: Oh. It is only a rumble. Just a low, rolling rumble, like a big drum a long way off. It is not angry at all. It is not chasing me. It is only breathing. All this time it was only breathing up here.

One of the bent umbrella ribs gave a soft crack and swung loose. The rocket tipped, and Aanya turned the handle toward the green square of the park and let the wind bring her down slow.

⟨Character 2⟩: Down here, Aanya, down here! There is grass, plenty of grass! Let the wind bring you in, nice and gentle, nice and slow, we are right here!

⟨Character 1⟩: I flew over Pune. I built the rocket from the broken umbrella, and I flew right into the thunder, and it was soft. It was a rumble, Kamala. Only a rumble. And here is my fin, it cracked at the last bit, see, but I landed still!

⟨Character 3⟩: A rumble after all. So you found it. Now, no more looking under blankets, only up at the clouds. Ayyo, ⟨Character 4⟩, off my lap. Wait. My glasses. They are on my head. Of course they are.

⟨Character 2⟩: Here. Sweet lime and a bit of the bread roll from the bakery, for the pilot and the launch crew. You were a proper pilot, Aanya. Chin up the whole way. Nobody else could have done it.

⟨Character 1⟩: Bring the rocket home. The umbrella rocket. Next time we can go and see the rainbows. After a nap. After a little nap, Rohan.

Aanya closed her eyes on the grass, the cracked umbrella rocket beside her, and ⟨Character 4⟩ curled against Rohan's feet. Far above, the thunder gave one last kind rumble, and over Pune the evening came down soft and safe.