Random Ramblings of a Reluctant Blogger

Prying eyes, that’s what I called him and it was  not an effort to protect his identity either.

A new job in a new town, I was yet to find a permanent place for myself so all my correspondence, be it from my family or friends, was addressed to me at my office.

And every time I received a letter, this ‘good samaritan’ would hand it over to me. Very nice of him I thought, till another colleague told me how Mr. Prying Eyes was in the habit of reading all the missives before handing it over. It didn’t matter in the least whether he knew the language or not. He would be in the office early, hovering round the box, where all letters would be dumped, and pick up the personal letters and go through it. Goofy, as some of my colleagues  called him, was a master at opening the inland letters or the envelopes and sticking it back perfectly after reading it. 

I was told stories about his naivety and how he would readily believe anything. He once bought a basket of rotten mangoes  and even kept it in a bucket of water for a whole day as the vendor had told him, they will get and taste better! 

Many such stories of his gullibility floated around and though my colleagues made fun of him they reiterated that he meant little harm. But, I did not take kindly to the invasion of my privacy. Plain threats did not deter him much, as my colleagues confided.

I told my father all about Mr. Prying Eyes’ absurdities and his nosy habit, while I was visiting home on a short holiday.  I thought it would be better if the letters henceforth would be in Hindi and Tamil. Though I would have had a tough time reading in Tamil, given that I learnt the script very late, I was willing to make an effort. My father had different ideas. “It’s about teaching him a lesson,” he said.

He had a plan. And as I was heading back he handed me a bunch of inland letters and envelopes with old stamps, all addressed to me, with specific instructions.

I put the plan in action the very day I re-joined the office. While no one was watching I slipped in the inland letter and covertly watched Prying Eyes pick it up. He handed it to me later with a perplexed look. I wasn’t surprised, for, as planned, there was nothing written on the inland letter, it was empty except for my address. 

I repeated the empty letter ruse a few more times. To my astonishment, he still continued to browse through my empty letters. 

Time was now ripe for phase two. “If he is as naive as you say, he will need a little more persuasion,” my father had remarked. Phase two was now put in place.

I confided in a colleague and in a conspiratorial tone, but loud enough and within the earshot of Prying Eyes said, “remember my father writing to me in invisible ink? That ink has another quality. It leaves a mark, not visible to naked eyes, on the palms of the person who opens the letter first. It lasts for close to 45 days. Tomorrow my father is visiting me and he has special glasses that detect those marks. I intend to introduce him to my father. Am sure once the marks are spotted, my father intends to take the matter seriously.” 

“What if he does not come in tomorrow,” my friend referring to Prying Eyes, asked as rehearsed. “Dad is going to be here for about a week to 10 days,” I said. 

We made sure Prying Eyes heard it. And it was for almost a month he stayed away from office.

Then on, he avoided me completely but more importantly never ventured near the letter box.