The last day of the annual harvest festival had a different air about it. The village of Ubhayam was brimming with joy, music, and the scents of roasted corn, jaggery sweets, and flower garlands. Lanterns swayed from every post, their golden light dancing in harmony with the wind.
Hari walked quietly through the narrow alleys that weaved like veins through the heart of the village. Children laughed in the distance, chasing after each other with paper kites in hand. Farmers stood proudly by their decorated carts, and temple bells rang with cheerful rhythm. But Hari, though smiling slightly, still carried a thoughtful calmness in his gaze—a remnant of the dreams, the questions, the search for something unnamed.
He wandered past a line of fruit stalls when something caught his eye.
A small, dimly lit puppet shop, nestled between two brightly colored cloth merchants.
The door creaked open as Hari pushed it gently. Inside, the air was warm and heavy with the scent of old wood and fabric. A man with a long mustache sat near the counter, carving a small wooden leg with intense focus. He glanced up and gave a nod before returning to his work.
Hari's eyes widened as he looked around.
There were puppets of every kind—some hanging from strings, others seated on shelves in frozen poses. But what stunned him the most were the ones unlike any he had seen before.
A puppet with pointed ears, silver hair braided neatly, and green garments stitched with intricate leaf patterns. An elf.
Next to it was a stout figure, round and muscular, with braided beard and a tiny hammer tucked into his cloth belt. A dwarf.
And in the corner, a large, rugged puppet with green skin, tusks, and armor made of bones. An orc.
He whispered under his breath, "Whoa… I've never seen humans like this before."
He moved around slowly, enchanted by the display. A few village children, including his friend Surya and the mischievous twins Meenu and Veeru, came into the shop behind him.
"Look at this one!" Meenu said, lifting a fairy puppet with transparent wings that shimmered when they caught the light.
Veeru pulled a string and made the orc growl. "Scary! Imagine this guy guarding your house."
Surya laughed. "I want this dwarf! He looks like my grandfather when he gets angry!"
Hari smiled, joining in the laughter. For a moment, the thoughts that had been haunting him over the past weeks faded away. They played with the puppets, trying to mimic their voices, even putting on a short silly show on the tiny puppet stage at the back of the shop.
The shopkeeper chuckled from behind his counter, muttering, "Ah, children. The only ones who still believe."
As the sun dipped behind the hills and the lanterns of the village flickered to life, Hari walked back home with the puppet fairy in his hand—a gift from the shopkeeper for being "curious enough to ask no questions."
That night, after dinner, he sat beside Mrudhula near the small firepit behind their house. Stars glittered above like scattered rice on dark cloth.
He turned to her and asked, "Mother… today I saw something strange. Puppets of people with long ears, green skin, wings… they weren't like us. Who are they?"
Mrudhula smiled, not surprised.
"They are the other tribes, Hari. Elves, dwarves, orcs… and even the fairies you hold in your hand."
"They're real?" His eyes lit up with wonder.
"Yes, they are," she nodded, pulling him gently closer. "They live in places far from here. In forests thick with magic, in mountains carved like fortresses, and in lands humans rarely dare to go. We do not see them often, because many years ago, our paths drifted apart."
"Why?" Hari asked.
"Because peace, child, is easier when distance is kept. Not all stories are of war and blood, but not all are of friendship either. So the tribes chose to live their own way. Elves in their sacred woods, dwarves deep in the earth, orcs in the wild plains. And fairies… well, they live where imagination is still alive."
Hari looked at the puppet in his hand, then back at the stars.
Mrudhula smiled at him and placed a hand on his head. "But remember, no matter how far they live, they're part of this world. Just like us. Just like the wind, the rivers, and the fire."
He leaned into her shoulder, his curiosity now blooming into wonder instead of worry. "Will I ever see them for real?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "But if the stars are listening, and your heart stays kind and brave, maybe someday you will."
Hari nodded slowly, his eyes growing heavier.
"Sleep now," she murmured, taking the puppet from his hand and placing it beside his pillow.
As he drifted off to sleep, Mrudhula looked at the fairy puppet and whispered, "Let him dream… of a world that still believes."