Signed, Envelope

One

Things started when I was lounging comfortably on a deck chair at the beach near my house in Mumbai. It was Sunday. Thank goodness. No post, deliveries, phone calls, emails, fax, whew! I thought. Until... tell you later. Oh! Before I forget, I'm Ajay, 33 years old, and have a 5 year old daughter.

Leela was just playing in the sand with her friends. Completely normal. But when the group got up and started splashing in the calmer part of the waves, I noticed something was off. Whether it was my mood, or my ways of reading a mystery novel a day, every day, I don't know, but the numbers inscribed into the grain seemed to read something special. Something unusual. 

Yes, I may have been overreacting. But again, a mere child who barely learned the alphabet two years ago and still forms four-letter words, writing a complex code that sets an eerie mood into an adult, is certainly beyond the ordinary.

Anyway, I let my mind waver off the subject and forced myself to think about lunch. Was there enough rice at home? Which dal was to be made? But despite these urgent concerns, the truth came back to beat me, again and again. I just couldn't go astray, off the thought.

My head felt too bogged down by the simple but odd events at the beach that day and I decided I needed to go home, take a break and relax. I called out to Leela and followed her back home as she skipped along. I did really not know about the upcoming turn of events.

Leela had already reached our tower and was waiting outside the main door, as my burden had slowed me down considerably. But soon I too arrived at the building, and continued walking ahead, now clenching Leela's hand. We took the noisy, clanking lift, which always smelled oddly of damp grass and was lit with a light the oddest shade of yellow. Usual. And then, we were home at 803. More of a single room plus hall, actually, but ten years of living here had got me used to it.

The door was locked shut as I always ensured it was before leaving. I took out the keys, which came out of my pocket with a jingle-jangle. I inserted them into the keyhole, circled them around twice and pushed open the door, standing right at the border separating lobby and home. That's when the mess really started.

A steady downpour of many copies of something light and brown hit my head, face, shoulders and torso, before sliding down onto my toes. Paper. Envelopes, they were. "Is this some kind of silly prank from you, Leela?" I asked this knowing Leela was not responsible. She was an innocent little girl, never doing things of the sort. And besides, I was the last one leaving home, I would know of any little thing she would do.

I quickly gathered the mysterious cargo and entered the hall of my home, a simple corner with a sofa and four-seater dining table. I dumped the letters on the side-rug and settled myself on the light gray cotton seat of the sofa and plumped a hot pink cushion behind my back. Leela's choice. I closed my eyes.

When I opened my eyes after a minute, I picked up an envelope from the shower. It was addressed to me from an unknown hand. Jennifer Duncan. There was also a spiraling letter M next to the signature. Something about the symbol seemed familiar, but I wasn't able to locate it in my head. It had been a considerable amount of time since I had seen it. And after seeing it, I did not dare proceed with the letter.