The Mail

It was a bright and sunny March morning, a Sunday. I was out on the porch, reading the newspaper, sipping a glass of orange juice. The neighborhood kids were engrossed in a loud game of cricket. I felt nostalgic seeing the kids play, reminiscing my childhood. Ah, the fun we used to have.

My train of thoughts was interrupted by a shrill “ring, ring”. Glancing across, I saw the neighborhood postman stopping at my neighbor’s house. The ringing continued for a few more seconds, the postman waiting for either Ashok or his wife to come and collect the post. Well, no luck there.  Ashok and his wide were on a holiday in Mussoorie.

I walked up to the postman and conveyed this to him.

Shankar, the postman, grew a little grim. Wondering why, I asked him, “What’s the matter, Shankar?”

“It is a courier, sir. I was supposed to bring this 2 days back only but I was not able to. Now Mr. Ashok is not at home. If I take back the courier, I will have to answer a whole lot of questions from my boss.”

“Can’t you just tell your boss that Ashok wasn’t available?”, I enquired.

“I could do that, Sir. But as I said, this was supposed to be delivered 2 days back. I could lose my job if I tell my boss that I didn’t deliver it on time. That, sir, I cannot afford.”

“Well, Ashok and his wife are out of town since 2 days. So you can take it back, can’t you?”

“No, Sir. If I had brought it on time and had taken it back, I would have had to send it back to the main office by today. Post-office protocol. Now I can’t do that as it would show today’s time stamp in the logs”, Shankar explained with a worried look.

Seeing his plight, I offered to collect the courier on Ashok’s behalf. I was sure Ashok wouldn’t mind. There was immediate relief on Shankar’s face as he tapped my shoulder and said “Thank you Sir. But please don’t open it.”

A good deed done for the day, I thought as I walked back home. I kept the envelope on the dining table and soon got busy with other things, cleaning my bedroom and doing the laundry.

Couple of hours later, I walked into the living room and plonked myself on the sofa with a huge sigh. Ah, that was tiring. It felt good to rest on my favorite sofa.

I switched on the TV and was swapping channels when Rusty ran in and jumped on to the sofa on which I was happily lazing about. My Doberman had something in his mouth and I reached across to take it out.

It was a white piece of paper. Just when I had removed it completely from Rusty’s mouth and reprimanded him for being naughty, I caught a familiar name on the paper.

Gosh, it was Ashok’s courier!

I ran to the dining table where I had left the envelope. There a folded sheet of paper on the ground and the rest of the ripped envelope. I realized the sheet must have been the content of the envelope which had dropped out when Rusty ripped open the envelope cover. Thankfully, it was not damaged like the envelope.

Nervous and apprehensive of how Ashok would react to the torn envelope I bent over to pick the sheet and kept it back on the table. I returned to the television but the courier content was somehow stuck in my mind.

Curiosity got the better of me and I decided to open the sheet. It was some sort of a map, hand written. And at the bottom of the sheet were the words in bold – “COME ALONE. 11:30PM SHARP. TELL NO ONE”.

The words sent a chill down my spine. I sank to the chair in a daze, beads of sweat breaking out on my brows, the sheet trembling in my hands. I reached for my pack of cigarettes and lit one. And then another. Sitting, trying to make sense of the note. What did it mean? Who sent the letter? Was Ashok in some sort of trouble? Should I try reaching Ashok and inform him of the courier? There were a 100 questions running through my head…

I soon gathered my wits and peered over the sheet more carefully. I studied the map in detail. It was a layout of Majestic, the main bus stand here. Why would someone ask Ashok to meet him or her or them there? And at that unearthly hour when the dark underbelly of Bangalore would surface.

I was scared out of my mind. Should I approach the police? No, the note specifically warned otherwise. Could I risk going to the police? I decided I couldn’t risk it. Not before knowing what it was about.

I decided to go to Majestic on my own. I wrote down a letter to my wife explaining what I was about to do and stuck it on the refrigerator. She was spending the weekend at her parents’ place and wouldn’t return till the next day. It was close to 8PM now. I could stake out the place if I left now and be prepared. For what, I didn’t know.

It was an hour’s ride from my house to Majestic. The only other love of my life, my bike, negotiated the sparse traffic with ease. The thought of my wife sitting pillion while I zipped through the streets for a Sunday late night ride, stopping at the buzzing Food Street for a bite, crossed my mind. This Sunday was different. I was alone. Wondered if it would be my last ride. No! I should stop watching CSI, I reminded myself. If I get out of this alive…

I parked the bike at a hotel near the bus stand and walked to platform number 12. I surveyed the place, hoping to find something amiss. Nothing seemed out of its way. Dejected but still wary, I sat down on the platform bench.

The buses kept coming in and leaving out of the bay. Hordes of people getting out and few more getting in. People from different parts of the city, different states, different religions. But where were the people who sent the note?

Time egged on, as I watched the city lights dim down. The bus terminals wore a deserted look, with only the buses parked for the night for company and hardly any people around. Scary.

I checked my watch. A minute left for 11:30 PM and yet no sign of anything. I didn’t know what to expect anyway. Perhaps nothing would happen. Perhaps I was 2 days late anyway. Perhaps I should have stayed at home…

“Aaagh”, I let out a loud shriek as something suddenly covered my face. I was swaying wildly trying to hit whatever it was, whoever it was. I was blinded. I couldn’t see my head and face masked by some dark cloth, tightened further, while 2 pairs of strong hands held me on either side and tied my hands behind my back. I felt faint in my knees as I struggled to kick.

“Stop struggling and you won’t be hurt.” a muffled yet authoritative voice commanded me from behind. I gave in.

It all went hazy in my head. I was feeling numb while I was made to trudge forward. What was happening? How many people were actually there? Where were we going?

I heard the sound of a car door opening and before I knew it I was bundled inside. I felt two people get inside, one on either side of me. All 4 doors shut and the engine was revved. That meant that there were at least 4 other people with me in the car.

We drove around, taking many turns. Suddenly, I felt the car slowing down. Were we stopping? Yes, we were. I could hear a couple of other vehicles also stop next to the car. Seemed like a traffic signal.

“Help!” I shouted impulsively, hoping someone would hear me.

The car just zipped ahead. I could feel my face turn even paler. Guess my cries were feeble. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Why didn’t I just mind my own business?

We drove for at least another ten minutes on a straight stretch. It seemed like an eternity.

We slowed down again and took a left turn along the road. The car stopped. The doors opened again. The ones beside me got out and I presumed so did the other two (or three or four) sitting front.

I felt a hand on my shoulder beckoning me to get down as well. Just as I let my feet down on the ground I felt the same pair of strong hands grab my arms, leading the way for me to walk.

Steps. Climbing them. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Slowly. We stopped.

I heard a doorbell ring. And then the clinking of the door locks opening.

“Were you followed?” asked a middle aged male voice.

“No, we made sure no one did.” the muffled voice from the bus stand replied.

I was made to enter inside. I could smell wax burning, while I was led ahead for a few more steps.

“Stop.” The voice commanded me. I meekly obeyed.

I could feel the knots being loosened behind my back, although my hands were still being held. They were finally free. My heart was palpitating madly, like it would break through my chest and escape.

The cloth around my head was also being loosened. “Don’t try to do something silly” the voice cautioned me. The cloth was finally lifted off me.

My eyes took a while to get accustomed to the surroundings, which strangely seemed familiar. There was hardly any light except for a couple of candles burning a little further away to the side. I looked around to find my assailants but they were nowhere to be seen.

“Take 10 steps forward and stop”, the voice boomed from a room. My first urge was to rush into that room and try to accost the person. But better sense prevailed as I realized I would just be going in blindly when there were at least 3 others unaccounted for.

I took 10 steps forward and stopped.

“Now, turn right and take 15 steps forward.”, came the next command.

I was moving away from the candle light into darkness but I still obeyed. Taking small, cautious steps I moved ahead slowly. I could make out entering some archway. 3 more steps and I stopped and waited for my next instruction.

There was a sudden flare all round me and I cowered to the floor.

“SURPRISE!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! WHOOOO” rang in the air.

I looked up slowly. There were lights all around me and I could hear laughter and shrill cackling of voices. Still dazed and perplexed, I looked ahead and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

The room was full of people I knew! Ashok, his wife, my wife, my in-laws, Shankar, my best buddies Bharath, Bala, Meghraj, Godwin…

My wife hugged me tight while I was still on the floor and whispered “I love you sweetheart, wish you an amazing birthday” into my ears. I hugged her back and fought back tears.

I had forgotten my birthday in all the chaos. I realized why the surroundings were oddly familiar. I was in Bharath’s dining hall. Bharath was one of my closest friends. I was going to kill him now!

 “How could you do this?” I asked her, still not letting her go. I didn’t think I would see her ever again while I was all huddled in the car, my hands tied and face covered. I could hear her giggle as she let go of my hug and faced me. The rest of the people were still holding on their stomachs laughing madly, seeing the expression on my face.

She caressed my face with a loving smile and said “I am sorry love. I know how much you love spy thrillers and I wanted this birthday to be memorable for you. Tell me honestly, didn’t you enjoy it?”

Come to think of it, it was exhilarating. It was like I was the central character of an edgy, racy thriller.

“I am flabbergasted; my nerves are jangling with adrenaline. It was a terrific experience and I love you crazy. But don’t ever do this to me again.” I told my wife who guffawed loudly and hugged me again.

“But wait, there are so many questions in my mind. How on earth did you think that I would collect the courier? Or that I would even open it? Or I would even come even if I had opened it?”, I asked around.

“Oh don’t think only you are a fan of Jeffrey Deaver, my friend. We planned this for more than a month. We first had to make sure you thought my wife and I were in Mussoorie. Then we had to take Shankar into confidence and get him to hand over the courier to you. If you had not walked up to collect it, Shankar would have come to your house and requested you to collect it. You know psychology is such a wonderful subject and a very efficient tool! If you recollect Shankar tapped your shoulder oh so gently while you collected the courier and stressed on the words ‘open it’. This is called suggestive thinking. We were sure you would open the courier sooner or later. Oh, by the way the courier wasn’t 2 days late, it was on time! And we were counting on you to come to Majestic as we knew you would be smitten by the detective bug. But of course, we had planned to get you out of the house by 10PM if you had not left on your own. And the rest as they say, my friend, is history!”, Ashok explained.

I got up to give a good spanking to Ashok and all those abettors in this elaborate nasty prank played by my wife on me. But there were way too many people and I myself was overpowered. I was lifted and brought to the dining table where a huge cake awaited me with a solitary candle stuck in the middle.

“Make a wish honey and blow out the candle”, said my wife.

I didn’t want anything. I had everything, Maybe I just didn’t want to lose what I had- my lovely wife, my family, my wonderful friends… I blew out the candle thinking this and was immediately plastered with the cream covering the butterscotch cake. I was hugged by everyone while there was music played in the background and champagne passed around.

This was one birthday I wasn’t going to forget in a long, long, long time.

This is my entry to the Sunday Herald Short Story Competition.