Those chain letters!

The postman delivered a strange postcard. It was neither addressed to anybody, nor was it signed by someone. It had just the content scrawled in an unknown handwriting. As a 10-year-old, I read the postcard haltingly.

It said- “You are lucky to have received this postcard. It brings you fame, fortune and a lot more. It has travelled around the world 18 times, and now, it is in your hands!” I could not believe the stroke of good luck. It was as though the entire cosmos had fortuitously chosen me as a special beneficiary. I ran to my elder sister, “Sister! Look! What postcard I got!” Together, we read the message. Many a horror film started on a pleasant note. It was only past intermission- the plot changed and left you quaking with fear.

This postcard was such. The moment you flipped the postcard to the other side, the tone changed completely. It read, “Do not take this message lightly. It must not be with you for more than 3 days. You must send this message to 14 others forthwith. Do not break this chain. Failure to do so, will be at your peril. The choice is yours.”

The messaging was confusing. “What does ‘peril’ mean, sister?” “It means danger, silly!” sister answered. “What danger will come, sister?” I tried to clarify. “It can be anything!” sister gave an open-ended answer, lending full scope for my imagination to run wild, thinking of all kinds of macabre possibilities!

“Anyway, you found the postcard. It is your headache!” sister tried to wash her hands off. “But, but…we read the postcard together, didn’t we? Now, that you have also read it, it is your problem too!” I reasoned.

Opinions were divided at home. Parental advice was direct- “We have seen many such letters. Just tear it to bits and cast it in the wastepaper basket!” For a 10-year-old, it was not so simple, especially the word ‘peril’. There was a sinister ring to it, that sent you on a ruminating trail. Who could have sent this postcard?  Why did he write? How did he know you? How did he decipher that the postcard had traveled around the world 18 times? Did he travel with the postcard? Or did the postcard come back to him, after touching everyone on this planet? You imagined how this postcard would proliferate. The sender sends to 14 people. Each of those 14, send to 14 others, and those 14 send to 14 more and so on. The compounding effect was simply bewildering.

Eventually, you took the decision. This message should not be taken lightly. You must now write 14 postcards. Much to her displeasure, sister would write 7 and I will write the other 7. A blue-color stained, carbon-copy paper was dug out from the shelf. That way, 2 postcards could be written out in one shot.

Now came the million-dollar question- Who will be those 14 targets? All people came to mind in one sweep- grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, extended family relatives and friends. In each case, you imagined how their face would turn pale and worried, when they read your postcard. It was such a nasty thing to do.  I had a bright idea, “Sister! Let’s send it to all your friends- Prabha, Padmini, Sunita and “baby Lakshmi”! I am certain you have more than 14 friends!” Sister was not at all pleased. “Why my friends only? Why not your friends?” she asked.  “But I don’t have any! I had Sridhar, but he is not my friend anymore! We fought day before yesterday!”  I resisted.

It was tough to find those 14 guinea-pigs. If you selected sister’s friends, one problem was certain- each of them will send this postcard back to sister (of course, without knowing, she sent it). And now, you will have a clutch of postcards at home, and stuck in an eternal loop- writing and rewriting this content over and over again, for the rest of life. Also, the next time, you met Prabha or Sunita, you will certainly sport a sly grin on the face. You wouldn’t be able to resist that curious question, “Did you, did you…get…that…that…postcard?” That will expose your identity and you risked the possibility of getting beaten up.

Eventually, sister had a brilliant idea. She took out the telephone directory, “Just search for some random 14 names, along with their addresses and send the postcards off!”  That was a clincher. I hunted down all kinds of people- Mr. Wadekar, Mr. Bhatavdekar, Mr. Desai, Mr. Sardesai, Mr. Pandey and Mr. Deshpande- in far-flung places, one at Charni Road, another at Chinchpokli and yet another at Tardeo. Yes, I owe all these poor souls, a round of apology, for this evil deed committed over 40 years ago.

I made sure to post the letters not from the local Koliwada post-office, but from the distant post-office at Sion Circle. That way, the postmark will not reveal my neighborhood, and none will track me down. My hands were totally clean.