The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across Aarav’s bedroom as he carefully opened the dusty old stamp album. It was his tenth birthday, and his great-grandfather, a 90-year-old retired postmaster, had given him this peculiar gift. Aarav’s fingers trembled with excitement as he flipped through the pages, each filled with colourful stamps from different eras.
“Look closely, beta,” his great-grandfather had said, his eyes twinkling. “Sometimes, the most ordinary things hold the most extraordinary secrets.”
As Aarav turned to the last page, a strange, shimmering red stamp caught his eye. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The stamp bore the inscription “SCINDE DAWK” and the year 1852. As his fingers brushed against its surface, the stamp began to glow with an otherworldly light.
“What’s happening?” Aarav gasped. The room around him started to spin, colours blending into a whirlwind of light and shadow. When the world finally stopped moving, Aarav found himself standing on a busy street, the air thick with unfamiliar scents and sounds.
A girl about his age bumped into him, nearly knocking him over. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, steadying him. “Are you alright? I’ve never seen clothes like yours before. Are you new to Karachi?”
Aarav blinked in confusion. “Karachi? But I was just in Mumbai… What year is this?”
The girl looked at him strangely. “It’s 1852, of course. I’m Roshni, by the way. You look lost – can I help you?”
Realising he had somehow travelled through time, Aarav introduced himself and explained his situation. To his surprise, Roshni didn’t seem shocked by his tale.
“I’ve always believed in magic,” she said, her eyes shining with excitement. “Come on, I’ll show you around. Something big is happening today!”
Roshni led Aarav through the bustling streets of Karachi, explaining that they were about to witness the introduction of the Scinde Dawk postal system – the very stamp that had brought him here.
As they approached the post office, they overheard two men arguing. “The shipment of new stamps has gone missing!” one cried. “Without them, we can’t launch the new system!”
Aarav and Roshni exchanged glances. “We have to help!” Aarav whispered. “This is a crucial moment in history!”
The children approached the distressed postal workers, offering their help. At first, the adults were sceptical, but seeing the earnestness in their eyes, they agreed to let the children assist.
“Here’s what we know,” said one of the workers, showing them a ledger. “The stamps were last seen at the docks yesterday. They were supposed to be transported to the post office but never arrived.”
Aarav studied the ledger carefully. “Look,” he pointed out to Roshni, “the cart driver’s name is smudged here. It looks like it could be ‘Khan’ or ‘Patel’.”
Their first clue in hand, Aarav and Roshni headed to the docks. There, they found an old dockworker who remembered the shipment.
“Aye, I saw that cart yesterday,” he said, stroking his beard. “The wheel was wobbling something awful. Told the driver he should get it fixed at the workshop on Nakhuda Street before it broke completely.”
Excited by this new lead, the children raced to Nakhuda Street. At the workshop, they found the cart with the wobbly wheel, but no sign of the stamps or the driver.
“The fellow left in quite a hurry,” the mechanic told them. “Said something about making a delivery to a warehouse before it closed. Mentioned it was near the old banyan tree.”
Aarav’s eyes lit up. “I saw a huge banyan tree when we first arrived in the city! Do you know where it is, Roshni?”
Roshni nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! It’s near the edge of town. There are a few old warehouses there.”
As they neared the banyan tree, they saw three warehouses. “How will we know which one to check?” Aarav wondered aloud.
Roshni pointed to some fresh wheel tracks in the dusty road. “Look! One of these tracks is wobbly, just like the cart we’re following!”
They followed the uneven tracks to the second warehouse. The door was slightly ajar, and they could hear someone muttering inside.
