The Delivery

Keshav looked at his smartphone. He had reached the location on the map but he could not see the house he was looking for.



Keshav was here to deliver a package to Mr Dasmunsi. It was one of the packages with the fragile written on the outside, so Keshav wanted to get it off his hand at the earliest.



Keshav stopped an old woman passing by to ask for the address.



“You should have taken the next turn. But I am not sure what you are looking for, Mr Dasmunsi is no longer among us, I mean he is dead,” said the old woman



“Maybe the ID the order was made from was his,” said Keshav and he thanked the old woman and rode away on his delivery bike towards Mr Dasmunsi’s house



On the next turn he noticed many of the houses were big and old. At first look they looked vacated but then there were those subtle signs of life on a closer look.



Keshav found Mr Dasmunsi’s house was one of the older ones. There was no doorbell near the small black coloured metal gate in front but it could be opened from outside, so Keshav went in and found again that there was no doorbell and knocked on the door.



An old man opened the door.



“Mr Dasmunsi?” Keshav asked thinking maybe the old lady was wrong



“No, I am not him. I am the caretaker. Come inside and sit, I will call him,” said the old man



Keshav checked his smartphone, the order had not been paid for, it was a cash on delivery. Thus, he walked inside the house and sat on one of the chairs in the drawing room, which was fairly pleasant unlike the old and haunting outside. The walls were light yellow in colour and the lights shone bright. But the old chandelier in the middle did not match the rest of the room at all.



The old man appeared briefly and said, “He is coming.” Then he disappeared into a passage by the staircase.



Keshav waited for a few minutes, but in his line of work maintaining time was very important. He decided to inform the caretaker that he would come by later by the end of the day.



Keshav called out for the caretaker, but there was no answer. So, Keshav walked in the passage on the side of the staircase, he went inside but heard no sound, this section did not share the brightness of the drawing room and the paint on the wall was falling and it was dimly lit, two of the three doors present were closed except one.



Inside the open door was nothing at all, it was clean and empty.



“Are you looking for the bathroom?”



Keshav was startled to find the caretaker standing in front, he did not notice him coming at all.



“I was looking for you, I will come by later, I am getting late,” said Keshav



“But Mr Dasmunsi is here,” said the caretaker and Keshav turned behind to see if there was someone and found no one but when he looked back at the caretaker something blinding took over.



Days passed and Keshav lived his life, for some reason he cannot remember Mr Dasmunsi’s delivery at all although the delivery was made and he came back with the payment, but he cannot remember the house or what happened there. His mother lately tells him that he has changed somehow, she sometimes finds him sitting alone and grumbling like an old man, another thing he has no remembrance of at all.

Written by Anuran Chatterji

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