Illusion
Then to the rolling Heaven itself I cried,
Asking, “What lamp had destiny to guide
Her little children stumbling in the dark?”
And-“A blind understanding!” Heaven replied.
Omar Khayaam
Dinner Party
“I’ll be home a little late.” Adam said to his wife on his cell phone.
“How late is late? You know we have guests tonight.” Shiva protested.
“Well that’s exactly why I’ll be late, I need to get a book before I come home. I want to show
you all something very interesting. A co-worker of mine had a calendar designed with optical
illusions you’ve never seen before.”
“You mean like M C Escher’s art work?” She asked.
“More complex than anything I’ve seen before. These artworks are leery; they throw you off.
You’ve got to see them Shiva. There’re spectacular.”
“Who is the artist?”
“I don’t know. This is a collection from various artists, I’ve never heard of them. Let me grab
the book, we’ll find out tonight.”
“Hmm, that would make an interesting subject of conversation tonight. ”
“I won’t be too late, half an hour max.” Adam assured his wife.
That Friday afternoon as soon as Adam got off the work, he drove to the bookstore on the way
home and picked up the book of these obscure artists. Since this morning, he was amazed by
depictions of impossible realities. As he was going through the pages of this book fascinated by
these optical illusions, he lost track of time until he was thrown back to reality by the sudden
ring of his cell phone, “Didn’t you say half hour?” His irritated wife grumbled. “They’ll be here
shortly and I need your help here. I expect you to be here in 15.”
“Yes my lady.” He was still captivated by the awkward imaginations of these artists. As he was
heading toward the cash register, a picture on the cover of a book caught his eyes. The title was
“Crime scene photographs of the New York City police department between the years of 1943
and 1973”. He could not resist glancing through this book but he was already too late and the
thought of having an angry wife on a Friday night convinced him otherwise. So he just grabbed
this one too and paid for both books and darted out the door.
When he got home, the aroma of roast beef had filled the kitchen. He kissed his wife and poured
red wine for two and said, “I know I’m late but tonight we would all have a taste of infinite loops
and circular logics, I promise.”
The guests arrived and an hour later all four were cozily sitting on the couch enjoying the wine
after a delicious dinner. And that was when Adam revealed his latest acquisition. He opened
every page and enthusiastically showed the designs to everyone. “Look how he can morph one
form of life into another. I don’t believe in reincarnation yet these works makes me wonder. ”
Adam explained.
“Just like you said, the perception of infinite loops is fascinating.” Shiva added.
“This is what I call absurd reality.” Cyrus remarked.
The designs dazzled all four in the room and instigated a provoking conversation. They spent
more than an hour discussing various aspects of artworks in the book.
“This kind of art always makes me think of other dimensions, the intangible side of life.
Sometimes I feel we are all destined in this world.” Nilo added.
“Here you go again. My wife is shifting to her eerie mode.” Cyrus chuckled.
“Really, sometimes I feel everything is happening for a reason unknown to us. I’m not saying
we should just accept it though. There is a mysterious dimension we all have in our lives that we
cannot explain logically. Occasionally we’re drawn uncontrollably into that realm. That’s when
we emerge from this world and enter this unknown territory. In that state of mind when we’re
not really ourselves, we can see, touch and feel like never before.” Nilo continued.
“I think so too. We all travel to this bizarre world many times in our life. And I don’t think
believing in supernatural or religious faith explains this phenomenon. It’s more complicated
than that.” Shiva commented.
They were all so absorbed in the eerie designs of the book until Shiva asked her husband,
“Adam, when you came home, you had two books in hand. Show us the other one too.”
Adam said, “Well, the other book must be depressing. I don’t want to ruin the night.”
Nilo remarked, “Come on, ruin our night. We are in the mood.”
And her husband added, “ We’re already in twilight zone. Bring it on my friend.”
Adam grabbed the book off his computer desk and said, “This is a book of dead people. Are you
guys still interested?”
Nilo was tipsy, she raised her glass, “Well, corpses go well with Shiraz. A toast to death.“
Everyone burst in laughter.
“Why would you be interested in this book?” Shiva asked her husband with a surprised look on
her face.
After Dinner
“The cover caught my eyes.” Adam responded.
“Better yet, why would anyone be dumb enough to pay for such a book?” Cyrus sneered.
Adam, “All right, you all made your points. The book is here now and we’re going to see what’s
in it.” He then read the title aloud and sat down and opened the book.
Nilo was surprised seeing the book in Adams hand but said nothing.
Shiva commented, “These old black and white photos of the victims seem like paintings than
photos. Don’t you think so Nilo?”
“I agree they all have mystical renditions of the ended lives.” Nilo responded without seeing the
pictures for herself.
“Alright enough of these intellectual babbling, let’s see what’s inside” Cyrus joked.
Adam flipped through the crime victims and stopped at the crime scene photos of the year 1963.
Shiva sensed Adam’s peculiar curiosity. It was the year he was born.
Among the photographs of the murder victims of that year, Adam’s gazed was fixed on the body
of one victim on the floor facing down with his hand stretched out. The picture was taken from
the third floor of an apartment building from where he was plummeted to his demise.
Shiva and Adam instantly noticed the date of murder. It was Adam’s exact date of birth.
Appalled by this disturbing coincident Shiva hastily said, “We had enough of death for a lovely
evening.” She rapidly grabbed the book from Adam’s grip. “Let’s all watch a funny movie.”
Cyrus carped, “Funny movie? I’m just getting warmed up here. Give me the book. I want to see
dead people.”
Nilo was even more shocked than Adam seeing the murder victim of that particular year. Her
head was spinning, she was sick to her stomach. She excused herself and went to the bathroom,
washed her face, miserably looked in the mirror and burst in tears. She quickly turned the
faucet on all the way so they could no hear her cry. She had no choice but to control her
emotions and pretend this bizarre coincidence had nothing to do with her. Yet down deep she
knew that was not the case.
Encounter
5 years earlier
“Your novel is well written. I’m especially intrigued in the way you see the world through the
eyes of your characters. Everyone of the them has a unique perspective.” Nilo’s publishing agent
remarked.
“But what?” Nilo was now hastily picking up pages of her novel off the desk.
The agent smiled, “You know what I mean. It doesn’t sell. People are not into reading open-
ended stories. Your novel doesn’t offer a full resolution. It’s too intellectual, too abstract to be
appealing to mainstream readers.”
“So what do you want me to do?” She huffily replied. “You want me to write a genre for a target
audience. Is that it? Maybe I’m better off writing a damn book on spiritual healing or how to
please your partner in bed? We can both make a bundle that way!”
She was infuriated, “You just don’t want readers to think? You want them to read what goes
down well with their junk food. Is that what you call literature?” She was out of control.
“This is the business.” The publisher pleaded.
“Well, that’s exactly what’s wrong with it. What the hell do you expect me to do? Write a damn
happy ending for it? Publishers like you are responsible for creating such shallow readers you
know?” She hastily shoved her manuscript into her folder. “This is it, no more no less. If you’re
not interested, tough.” Nilo darted out slamming the door behind her.
Her head was about to explode. She left the building and walked into a coffee shop across the
street and ordered a Latte. In a minute or two the drink was ready and she went outside,
grabbed a chair and lit a cigarette. She was still cursing her publishing agent under her breath
that an old man appeared by her table, “May I sit here? All other tables are taken and you have
an empty chair. Is this available?”
“Yes you may.” Nilo responded with a little hesitation.
“If you are not in the mood, I won’t talk at all.” The stranger said with a peevish smile on his
face.
“It’s too late for that, you’re already talking.” She grinned, “Forgive me for being rude. I had a
disappointing experience with a publishing agent.”
“I hear you. I work with a publishing company too. They can be hard ass sons of bitches
sometimes.” Nilo’s face opened up by hearing this appropriate reference.
“Are you a writer?” She asked.
“Oh no. No. I used to be a crime scene investigator and years later I became a private
Detective.”
“Well, that’s an interesting line of work.” Nilo commented.
“Yes, it is. You get to see bizarre things in this business.” He replied.
“People like you can become good writers. You never run out of stories to tell.”
“True, but some stories are better not to be told.” The man pensively added.
“So, how are you associated with the publishing business then?” Nilo asked.
“Well, I had a large collection of pictures that happened to catch the attention of a publisher. So
he offered to buy those pictures and since I was also experienced in the field, he wanted me to
select certain pictures to be published in the book.”
“What kind of book is this?” Nilo enthusiastically inquired.
The book is called “Crime scene photographs of the New York City police Department 1943 to
1973.”
“So, what were your selection criteria? There must have been so many victims to choose from.”
Nilo remarked.
“I was personally involved in many of those murder investigations. And since I worked in the
police force most of those years, I knew about so many other investigations and had access to
archives. So I could pick any case and find out the details. The publisher wanted me to pick the
crime scene pictures of mysterious cases.”
“So you are making money off dead people. How cool is that? That’s what I’m trying to do. But
this damn agent says my novel lacks full resolution. Isn’t that absurd? What could be more final
than death? How can death be open ended, I have no clue.” Nilo carped.
“A story of an ambiguous death or a death after an ambiguous life lacks resolution. Lives or
deaths like that are as interesting as they are painful to study and to write about.” He was
thinking out-loud.
“This is so ironic. Most writers write without having a real story to tell and you are not a writer
and have so many genuine stories to tell.” Nilo commented.
“I’ve seen too many deaths I guess. Sometimes I feel responsible in a way for some of those
murder cases I have investigated.” The man responded.
“Well that’s nonsense. You always got there after the fact. Your subjects were already dead.”
Nilo was trying to unburden the stranger of a guilt she knew nothing about. “I on the other hand
am very responsible for the death of my victims. I write the cleverest plots to murder innocent
people. Isn’t that shameful? if one of us should feel remorse, that should be me.” And she
chuckled.
“I know it’s absurd to feel this way. But in a very bizarre way I may have been instrumental in
carrying out those deaths. I don’t even know how to explain it.”
“But how could that be?” Nilo was puzzled.
“Some lives are enigmatic, and some deaths are that way too. And in this business you get
exposed to these lives and deaths sometimes. And it’s so hard to keep yourself unattached.” The
man murmured.
“Now you are losing me. Be more specific please. Tell me what is your dilemma now?” Nilo was
infatuated with the subject and desperately trying to get him to talk. She never had a chance to
meet someone like him.
“My dilemma is how to choose pictures of victims for this book.” He said this with overburdened
conscience.
“Well choose the victims of more mysterious cases. Isn’t that what the publisher wants?” Nilo
suggested promptly.
“That’s what I did but I’m stumbling on the victim of one specific year. I feel so weird.”
“What year is it? What’s so especial about this year anyway?” Nilo was trying to help her newly
found friend.
“I feel guilty to pick out a victim for this year.”
“Do you need help? My victim selection expertise is impeccable, I kill so many in every one of
my novels with no remorse.” Nilo joyfully volunteered.
And the stranger opened a huge file filled with pictures of the murder victims of one particular
year and scattered them on the table. One picture caught her eye as she noticed a small object
by the victim’s body. She quickly fished that one and handed it to the man and said. “Here is the
lucky victim.”
The park vendor
40 years earlier
“How much for this Rolex watch?” The foreign tourist asked.
“$60” The vendor replied.
“Too expensive.” Said the tourist and cursed in a language he could not understand.
“Wait! I have some Rolexes as low as $25.” The vendor called desperately. The buyer returned.
“Here, how about this one? Just $25 and no one can tell the difference between this and the
genuine Rolex.” Hoping to make the deal.
“Does it work for two weeks? $20 I pay. Good?” The tourists fished a $20 bill and took the watch.
“Ok. What about cuff links? Only $5 a pair and a great selection to choose from.” The tourist
had already walked away.
”Where the hell do they learn how to bargain like this?” The vendor whispered to as a man
walks up to him and points to the lighter with “AA” initials engraved on its case, “How much?”
He asked.
“$50. Original Zippo. They don’t make this style anymore, a vintage souvenir to last a life time.”
“I’m interested because of the initials. My kid brother has no middle name so his middle initials
are AA. I don’t know if he smokes or not.” He added pensively.
“This should get him started.” The customer chuckled at the vendor’s remark.“$5 off regular
price because you have a unique brother.” He knew he’d closed a lucrative deal when the
customer reached for his back pocket to pay him more than fifty percent profit for his
salesmanship.
It was almost dark and most tourists disappeared, park was almost empty.
The Book of Dead
Nilo waited in the bathroom for a few more minutes, cleaned her face and nudged the door half
open and called on her husband, “Cy! I don’t feel well, would you please come here.”
And when he came she whispered to him, “Let’s go home right now, I’m sick.”
“What happened to you all of a sudden?”
“Just hold me tight and help me out of this house please, right now. Don’t say anything. Oh my
god. Just don’t say anything. Let’ go.”
Cy helped his wife out the bathroom to living room, “Guys, sorry but we have to leave now. She
doesn’t feel well.”
Their hosts were both petrified by what they’d seen in the book and made no reaction to their
guests sudden departure.”
Nilo could not bear seeing the morbid faces of their hosts as they she their house.
Shiva ferociously slammed the book and tossed it on the floor. Adam was motionless. Neither
one knew what to say.
The room plunged into a dreadful silence until suddenly the door flung open and Nilo rushed
back to the room followed by her husband, “This is just a fluke guys. Nothing else.” She cried.
Shiva rushed to her, ”What the hell are you talking about?”
Nilo was just about fainting as Shiva held her arm and helped her sit. “This is just a freak
coincidence, that’s all Shiva. It must be.”
Nilo didn’t know how to tell them about her role in selecting this particular picture for the book.
She could not come up with any reasonable explanation and the morbid expressions on their
faces convinced her not to divulge her secret. If anything it would add more mystery to this eerie
event. Yet down deep she knew very well all these events could not be unrelated. She could
hardly breath.
Shiva said, “I know this is weird coincidence but look at my husband. He’s haunted. We’ve got
to help him.”
Both women returned to the living room and joined their husbands. Cyrus was silently sipping
his coffee trying to understand the situation without being inquisitive.
Shiva sat next to Adam and held his hands, “This is just a fluke. Don’t let it get to you.”
The bloody image of the victim however was engraved in every one’s head. Nilo cautiously
opened the book to learn more about the victim and the cause of his death. The book didn’t
offer much detail. Each photograph was captioned by the exact date of crime.
“Why is it so surprising to you Adam? They are so many others who have died at exact day you
were born, what’s the big deal. Our birth dates are not reserved for us only. I bet so many died
the minute I was born.” Cyrus reasoned. “We are all born and die some day and there are only
365 days in a year.”
“Look at him, look at this victim.” Adams uttered.
Others looked at the picture once again. Shiva cried, “What are you saying Adam? We can’t see
anything. He is face is covered with blood.”
“It’s me damn it. I am the man in the picture.” Adam cried.
“Are you out of your mind Adam? How could that be possible?” Nilo asked in a terrified tone of
voice.
Cyrus snatched the book from Adam and examined the picture carefully, “I don’t see any
resemblance what so ever. What’s had got into you tonight?”
“What do you mean it’s you Adam? You are scaring us with this none-sense.” Shiva pleaded.
Adam pointed to a blurred little dark spot by the body and said, “Do you see this? Do you know
what that is? That’s my cigarette lighter on the floor next to the body. The one Eaton brought
me from his New York trip when I was a kid.”
“Be reasonable Adam. The date of this man’s murder and your birth-date being the same is just
a weird coincidence. But don’t make up stories.” Cyrus remarked. “Let it go.” Get a grip man.“
He continued.
Nilo continued, “And I warn you sir, leave the story telling to me. I’m the murder mystery
writer here and even I can’t make up such an absurd tale.”
Adam was shaking when he pointed at the picture and said. “I can even make out the initials
“AA” on its case. I still have this same lighter somewhere in the house.”
“If you have the lighter after all this years then how could it be with the dead guy?” Nilo was
stunned.
“I’ll show it to you all, wait here.” He rushed out of the room while holding his aching head with
two hands. Shiva desperately followed her husband.
He rummaged through old trunks and suitcases covered with dust in the attic and emptied every
box filled with odds and ends, old photo albums and knickknacks and finally found the lighter
still full of fluid and functional after all these years. With trembling fingers, he gently touched
his initials and walked back to his computer. Shiva, Nilo and Cyrus followed him to the room and
watched.
He scanned the picture in the computer and enlarged the victim’s body and zoomed on the
lighter and initials became more legible and while he could hardly breath, he gently positioned
the lighter on the screen next to the image, the initial on the lighter in the picture was the same
as the one in his hand. Then he said, “I died the day I was born.”
Shiva’s knees buckled. Nilo helped her to the sofa.
“Adam, this is just a disturbing coincidence. Maybe more than one coincidence I admit. But that’
s all there is to it, don’t let it ruin your life. I know you practically all my life. You are the most
rational person I’ve ever met, don’t lose your head over this.” Cyrus was running out of things
to say to calm the situation.
“I have to find out how I died and why.” Adam murmured.
All four were petrified on the couch. None knew how to react.
Shiva finally said, “Adam’s right. This is too bizarre to ignore.”
Nilo continued, “All right, we’ll get to bottom of this. I promise you Adam.”
That night Nilo and Shiva searched the Internet for hours. They looked at newspapers archives
and New York police department’s public records. They didn’t find enough information about the
victim or his identity to help them explain this peculiar happening.
“Maybe logic has nothing to do with these coincidences.” Shiva cried.
The next day they contacted the publisher of the book and inquired about the man she met four
years ago who was the contributor to this book. To their utmost surprise, they had no knowledge
of such collaboration.
The next evening they got together to unravel this enigmatic occurrence.
Nilo said, “Maybe we should not try so hard to rationalize these events. Shiva is right, what if
this entire affair is not logical? What if these are only signs or clues to lead us in certain
direction?” We just need to understand it in a different dimension and not analyze it.” She then
told them of her bizarre encounter with the man whom she met four years ago and how she
inadvertently contributed to this chaos by selecting this picture for the book.
M. C. Escher
In Pursuit of truth
There was nothing more they could possibly do to ease Adam’s pain. He was paralyzed by this
appalling twist of fate. He wouldn’t eat unless he was urged to by Shiva and his friends. The
insomnia tormented him every night before his nightmares did the same when finally he fell
asleep. His life had suddenly vanished in a haze and everything meaningful had become
meaningless. He could not make sense of this horror that he’d brought upon himself by
randomly picking up a book from the bargain section of a bookstore in a Friday afternoon.
By now, all four were convinced these events were somehow linked. Therefore, they had no
choice but to unravel this mystery and save Adam. Yet they still didn’t know who the victim was
and so many other puzzling questions remained unanswered.
They hired an investigator in New York to shed light on this murder case and none of his
findings rescued them from his eerie quandary. The result of this investigation was more
troubling as the private detective informed them that that picture was not in the New York City
Police Department archives as they had no evidence of such crime ever being committed, and
police had no record of it. After spending a substantial sum of money they were back in square
one. They had less hope and more questions than before the investigation.
Adam’s self destructive obsession with the dead man in the book morphed him into a being they
could no longer recognize. For weeks he stayed home looking at the picture wondering what had
happened to him the day he was born.
When they exhausted all alternatives and as the last resort Nilo suggested all to go to New York
and investigate this matter to the end. Adam needed a closure, they all agreed.
After making all the necessary arrangements, the four friends flew to New York City. First they
went to central police station and shared their dilemma with the authorities. Since the case was
not in existence they were sent to archive building where they kept closed investigation files and
the documents of unresolved cases.
After days of searching through hundreds of boxes full of obsolete files, Adam saw the same
picture in a folder. Since there was a lighter by the body, they quickly found a few more shots of
the same victim’s and the address of where the crime was committed. They also find a name of a
man somehow related to this case, the only one mentioned in the investigation. After several
days of extensive search for his whereabouts, they finally found out where he lived and the next
day they gave the address to a cab driver to take them to a state-run hospice where he was
residing.
At the office they were told this man lived there for the last 15 years and they were his first
visitors. An orderly showed them the way to his room where they faced a dazed old man sitting
still in his chair looking out the window.
They introduced themselves and the man suddenly started complaining about the tasteless fried
liver and green beans he had for lunch today. They four visitors curiously gazed around his little
room hopelessly looking for a clue to relate him to what had happened forty years ago.
Shiva said, “What would you like to have for dinner?”
“Any decent meal would do.” The man replied.
Cy took Adam to buy dinner for everyone and Nilo and Shiva sat down and told him about the
picture in the book and the purpose of their visit.
When the two men came back in half hour with boxes full of Barbeque briskets, fried onion,
sweet corn on the cobs covered with melting butter and steaming fresh rolls in one hand and a
big gulps of Coca cola in the other. The old man’s face shone with satisfaction.
After dinner the old man asked Cy to pull an old suitcase out from underneath his bed.
He opened the dusty suitcase and grabbed an old folder out and pulled a stack of papers out of it.
The title “Illusion” was scribbled on the top of the first page.
Nilo asked him, “What is this?”
“How I got this is more that what it is.” The man responded.
Shiva said, “Is this related to what we told you about?”
“I don’t know how it could, really. But that’s the only thing worth telling you about that I have
in my life.”
Nilo insisted, “Oh, please tell us how.”
And the old man sighed, “As a young man, I moved from city to city and lived anywhere I could
get a job that paid enough to get by. I’ve done every low paying job you can imagine in so many
areas of the county. I could always mange to keep my head above the water but never managed
to keep a job for more than a year or two. I wasn’t exactly a drifter as I’d never been on the
wrong side of the law, although I was tempted at times when I had the opportunity. Well, maybe
I just wasn’t gutsy enough to the wrong thing.
Only once in my life I got tangled in a situation that to this day I feel uneasy about. My
involvement in that affair surely wasn’t illegal and harmed no one but it may have, that I don’t
know.
My longest stay was in New York City where I managed to keep the same apartment for about
two years without being evicted. That was a record for me. One night after a long day at work as
I was sipping on my beer and before I collapsed on the couch I heard a knock on my apartment
door. A well-dressed man, looking like an insurance agent was at the door. He asked me if I
knew where my next-door neighbor was and I told him that I didn’t even know if I had one.
He invited himself into my apartment politely of course and sat down. Then he opened his
leather briefcase and pulled this envelope out and put it on the coffee table and asked me if I
wanted to make some cash. I told the man that as much as in needed it, I didn’t believe in quick
money specially if it came from a stranger.
He assured me there was nothing illegal about what he wanted me to do. He then pulled ten crisp
one hundred dollar bills from his side pocket and laid it next to this envelope and said, “Give this
package to your neighbor whenever he comes back. That’s all I want you to do.” I was stunned,
for that kind of money I would’ve done much more. He paid me more than I could make in a
month just to deliver an envelope full of papers to my next-door neighbor. He made me promise
not to give it anyone but him and only him.”
“Did you look inside the envelope?” Adam shrieked.
“Not really, not at the beginning. I was paid a large sum of money in advance to do the simplest
job I’d ever had. One thousand dollars was a whole lot of money than, remember we are talking
about a long time ago, I don’t remember what year it was...”
“1963?” Nilo desperately inquired.
“Yes, the same year the president was assassinated.”
“Was it March 12?” Shiva hardly uttered Adam’s birth date.”
“No, No, the March 12th I never forget, it wasn’t that day. It was a week or so before that.”
“What about March 12th. What happened on that day?” The horrified visitors pleaded.
“Well, after I received the money, first I stopped going to the parks to sell fake Rolex watches
and other souvenirs to tourists and stayed home everyday waiting for my neighbor to come back,
I had a job to do.
I waited for a week for my neighbor to return. Every time I heard footsteps in the hallway I
rushed outside to see if it was his. I knocked on his door several times a day and night with no
success until that fateful night of March 12. Late that night when I hit the sack and before I
felt asleep, a loud noise in the hall terrified everyone in the building. I rushed outside looked
over the banister just to see a dead body lying on the ground in the lobby.”
“Was that your neighbor?” Shiva asked.
“I don’t know. As I said I’d never met him.”
“Was that I?” Adam cried.
The old man chuckled by hearing such an absurd comment from his visitor.
“Did you get a good look at the dead body? Did he look like me?” Adam pleaded.
“I don’t know how he looked. I didn’t go downstairs but before the cops showed up, I took a few
pictures of the body from the third floor.”
“Did the police search your next-door apartment?” Nilo inquired.
“Yes they did, it was vacant. It’d been vacant for months. And that’s what spooked me out. I
was paid a lot of money to deliver a package to one who was not in existence.”
“Didn’t you ever find out who he was?” Nilo asked.
“Never” He replied.
Shiva took copies of victim’s pictures and showed them to him, “Are these the pictures you
took?”
“I’ll be darned, I sold these same pictures for $50 to a newspaper reporter forty years ago and
now I’m seeing them in your hands.” The old man was stunned. “I’m not going to ask you how
in the world you ended up having these pictures. This entire affair was so bizarre that I don’t
have the desire to figure it out.” He continued.
“Didn’t you tell the police or the newspaper reporter about this envelope?” Shiva demanded.
“Oh, no. If his death was in anyway related to mobs, I would’ve ended up dead too. I’m no
stupid. Besides, how did I know these two incidents were connected?” He responded.
“So you decided to keep the envelope forever? You never cared to see what was inside this
damned envelop?” Adam furiously demanded.
The man said, “Yes, after the murder, I became curious and poked a little hole in the envelope
and peeped inside, I could read the title ”Illusion”. It must have been a story of some sort, but
not every story must be told. I tried hard to suppress my curiosity. It was not my business
anyway to read it. I was paid very well by a total stranger to deliver a package to a man who didn’
t exist, wasn’t that spooky enough? I didn’t know what to do with this envelop so I kept it for
forty years hoping maybe one day I could unravel this mystery. And now you people showed up.”
“How come your name was mentioned in that murder case?” Nilo asked.
“That’s another piece of the puzzle. The investigators found a lighter by the body and it had my
fingerprints on it. They questioned everyone in the building and took me to down town and
interrogated me for days.”
“Was the lighter yours?” Adam questioned adamantly.
“No. But I had many lighters similar to that one in my briefcase. I was selling fake Rolex
watches and fancy lighters to foreign tourists on the streets and in the parks everyday.”
“What about the initials on the lighter case?”
“Those initials were neither mine nor the victim’s. I opened my briefcase and paraded a variety
of lighters just like that one for the police investigators to see. Every pair of lighters had the
same engraved initials.”
“What about the other lighter with the same initials as the victims?” Nilo asked.
“Obviously I’d sold both lighters with same initials. One to the victim and the other to a
tourist…”
“Did they believe your story?” Nilo asked the man.
“They had to. It was the truth. After months of investigation, police was convinced I had nothing
to do with his death. My fingerprints were on it because I’d sold it to him. They could not tag his
murder on me, so they left me alone and closed the case unresolved. I couldn’t live in that
building after what had happened. I moved out and left the city.”
“And this envelope?” Adam asked.
“I kept it ever since. I never understood this impossible reality but this puzzling story gave my
life a vague purpose.”
“And now that we came here, every pieces of puzzle falls in place.” Shiva commented.
“But there is more to it than that. Adam, you must not read what’s written on these pages. Don’
t even look at them, don’t touch the envelope.” Nilo screamed.
“Why?” Adam was puzzled.
“This weird game is not over yet. You are the last piece of this puzzle. Every time you die you
are reborn until you hear a new story. This is the vicious circle of life, there is no end to this
game.” Nilo explained.
“She is right. You’ve been given clues and signs for a reason. Do you remember the designs you
saw in that book at work? This game started from that moment.” Shiva asserted.
“Seeing the book of crime victims in the bookstore was not a coincident either. It could not have
been. You were played all along. You became obsessed with this all the way to here. Don’t you
see? You’ve been destined to die to when you read the story. More you probed, closer you got to
your own death. Just leave this puzzle unsolved and walk away. That’s how you interrupt your
fate, that’s the only way you survive.” Shiva remarked.
“Not every story is to be told.” Nilo warned.
The old man grabbed a cigarette and Adam lit it with the same lighter shown in the picture and
said, “Life is an illusion until we give it a meaningful reality.”
The beautiful flame mesmerized everyone in the room the moment their bewildered gazes
intercepted on the initials on its case.
We’re puppets and destiny the puppet master
This is truth, not an imaginary tale
For a while we play our roles on this stage
And return to the chest of death one by one
Omar Khayaam