Investigation of the Christmas Gift

For those of you who aren’t aware, I am currently chilling out in Shantiniketan. We are hear for attending the annual Poush Utsav, and once again, Christmas is to be celebrated here.

Yesterday night, bro asked, “Mom, are we supposed to hang the socks tonight?”


Doomed. Hell, he didn’t have any socks. What he had with him were absolutely filthy socks that he had worn for the past one week, and more so, he had walked on the earth walk in the garden with it on.

Nevertheless, he somehow agreed to jump into bed (he never gets into it, he always jumps).


I must confess I do not sleep quite well out here in Shantiniketan. Over here, I sleep upstairs (no, that’s not the reason). You see, my dad has (an eccentric?) habit of leaving a lamp lighted at night. Well, out here, that “lamp” is a full-fledged 80 watt tube-light, with only a bit of cover! And I am not the best person you can expect to fall asleep with visible electromagnetic radiation entering my eyes.

Therefore, last night (I mean, the night preceding today’s morning), I had somehow been awaken deep at night (by a bad dream), and it seemed like the time was around 3 o’clock. I looked around, and there was my stuff lying at the head of the bed, wrapped in what seemed like something pink. I once again fell off to sleep.

I wake up, and see that the phone says it’s only 7 o’clock? What the hell? I’m on holidays, and I wake up an hour before the alarm, and not after it! It was useless trying to fall asleep once again! Having wished merry Christmas to friends  on Facebook, I decided it was time I opened up my stuff.

You might just be aware that I have a, let’s say, clandestine inclination towards deduction and criminology, and also character analysis. So, more than receiving the gifts which I wanted (and thinking there must be a mentalist in the house), my primary concern then was to find out how and when my stuff landed up barely 3 inches from my head.



First problem: when the hell did the consignment land up in my bed.

I am sure that it was after midnight, since I distinctly remember being awake till the clock struck twelve. Being aware of the habits of people in the house (this is mom’s maternal home), I know there are only 2 possibilities:

  • It was probably grandma who deposited the bag on my bed.
  • It could also have been my dad. He goes to bed extremely late, after 2 o’clock, when half of the sleeping quota is already over. So, it is very much probable that he was the postman.

It is beyond my means at this moment to declare beyond doubt that one of them delivered the parcel. Yet, I have a feeling in my gut that grandma asked dad to deliver the consignment when he went to bed upstairs with me.

I have trained myself to trust my intuition (in fact, it is an intrinsic part of my personality), and so shall I. However, I say once again, not beyond such uncertainty to safely dispose off the benefit of doubt into the waste-ideas basket recycle bin.


How in the world was the diary bought, and kept hidden, without my slightest knowledge?

This is an insult to me! I remember having exposed Christmas gifts hidden at home at least three times earlier. And now, when I know much more, I miss it?

First of all, I am very much aware, beyond any doubt, that it was grandma who commissioned the stuff to be bought, if she didn’t buy it herself.

It seems highly unlikely that anyone but herself bought the stuff. It might have been bought by someone else in her presence. Whatever it was, she had to be out of the house to do that. And I don’t miss the entry-exit log.

We arrived here on the 22nd, she didn’t go out on that day. Yesterday morning, that is on the 24th, it was only dad who went out. That very evening, however, we did go out, myself included. I was observant all the while I was outside, so there was no way she could have secretly bought it then (she’s not a secret agent). That leaves the 23rd.

In fact, on that day, I had gone to the fair early with my dad, bro was at home, and mom and grandma caught on with us later. Rings a bell? Sure, it sounds like the perfect proposition. Furthermore, the taste of choosing such a wonderful notebook as that can only be accredited to grandma. The only purpose it served was to further strengthen my suspicions into logical belief. 

The possibility that mom could have bought it is a logical and statistical improbability, and is therefore excluded.

The Condensed Idea

  • How: Grandma bought the stuff on the evening of the 23rd, between the time I and dad were roaming about in the fair, and the time when she and mom caught up with us. There are no signs to suggest that she bought the stuff before we arrived in Shantiniketan, or otherwise.
  • When: Grandma most probably asked dad to take the parcel with him while going to bed upstairs, and the deposit the same at the head of the bed in which I was sleeping.

As for the consignment being slipped in without my knowledge, and more so, being successfully kept hidden for more than 48 hours, maybe I should not put my wits up against a 65 years-old mathematician. 

Don’t you think it’s a bit too late to wish for Christmas?


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