Nikhil Pandey 1 The sun hung low over Ahmedabad, spilling its amber glow across the rooftops that seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon. Every terrace was alive with color, movement, and laughter, the city preparing for the festival of Uttarayan. High above, kites of all shapes and hues fought against the playful gusts, dancing, dipping, and climbing as though the sky itself had been turned into a battlefield of dreams. Fifteen-year-old Aarav Patel leaned against the cool wall of his family’s terrace, the hum of the city below and the chorus of voices above filling his ears. His eyes…