I changed into my normal clothes as silently as I could. I could hear mother shuffling around in the other room so I used the Ethereal gate and snuck outside the front door.

*knock knock*

The light that peeped through the bottom of the front door reduced. Mom is probably wearing her long night dress, that is long and wide enough to block the light. She opens the door, glares at me angrily with a small tear forming in the corner of her eye. She turns around to prevent me The light that peeped through the bottom of the front door reduced. Mom is probably wearing her long night dress, that is long and wide enough to block the light. She opens the door, glares at me angrily with a small tear forming in the corner of her eye. She turns around to prevent me from seeing that, unfortunately I see everything.

"Did you eat something?" she asks as she walks towards the kitchen.

"No, I'm famished, what's for dinner?" I ask.

"Nothing yet. I will make something now," she said.

"Hmm, let me help," I replied.

Knowing my mother, she probably spent the last few days worried about me and not eating. It's not the first time that I have been away for a long time without informing her. Usually I end up tailing someone during a case and come back a day or two later. And every time it is the same, the first question she asks me is if I had had food. And every time my answer is no, mostly because I know that she would not eat when she is worried, so at least she would have a little bit of food with me.

When I entered the kitchen, she had already put the rice on the stove and had started tempering the mustard seeds in the coconut oil for the Moru Curry. The asafoetida went in next and the whole kitchen was filled with its delicious aroma. I took a bowl and cracked a few eggs in it and started beating it for an omelette.

She said, "I have to call your uncle to tell him that you are back."

"Why did you tell uncle?" I asked.

"Well this is the longest you have been out without informing me," she replied.

"OK, I will call him up and tell him I'm fine," I said.

"Good. BTW your uncle informed your dad's old partner. Both sent out feelers looking for you," she said.

"God. I will sort it out tomorrow," I told her.

"Don't bring God in between this," she said.

"I can't he is busy resting with his wife," I said.

"What?", she asked.

"Nothing. Look the onions are browning," I said, changing the topic deftly.

A hearty home-cooked meal: and the satisfaction of knowing that mom ate later, we retired into our rooms. My focus was back on learning more about my new core and its abilities. My core also had inscriptions on it just like Paviraa's core. I did the same thing as I had done before to understand it better. Wrote the inscriptions down on a piece of paper. The writing began to fade. Within seconds, the writing had disappeared entirely. And I waited for the magic to happen - And waited - And waited some more. It did nothing.

I thought something must be wrong in the way I wrote it so I did it again. Yet again, nothing happened. I observed every line, curve, and dot on the inscription and copied it to the exacting standards. This time I had my hopes up. At the end of the last stroke, I lifted my pen up and stared at it eagerly. Nothing. Only the ink disappeared

I jotted the inscription down six times but nothing happened, apart from the ink fading away. Maybe this was the wrong way to test its power. Since I didn't know any other way it would be difficult to figure it out without some help. I crushed the sheet and tossed it in the bin.

I was tired from my trip and now disappointed that I can't understand the powers, it was time to call it a day. I closed the curtains and shut windows. When I turned around, I saw that the piece of paper was there at the same place as before, pristine, unfolded, crease-less. Although I distinctly remembered throwing it away, it was still left on the ground. I picked up this sheet of paper and below it was another identical piece of paper.

Now I lifted that sheet of paper which lay on the floor and there was another sheet under it. Not just a sheet, there was a small stack of sheets. Every time I wrote the words on the sheet of paper it replicated itself. Six replicas of paper, for each time I wrote the inscription.

"Great! I have a supernatural Photocopier," I said to myself sardonically.

Not so impressed with this new-found ability I tossed the sheets of paper on the floor and went to bed. Secretly, I had hoped for some awe-inspiring power. Maybe something cool like mind control, or flying. I guess I can always sell paper in the wholesale market.

The next morning, I got a phone call. Due to my sudden and lengthy disappearance, I had lost my temporary musician gig. It was not something I was very happy doing, but no one can complain about steady money. I took this positively and decided to focus on my budding detective career.

I happened to save enough money from the rewards of past cases. As well as from random tip offs to my dad's partner from the police for his cases. But it was not nearly enough for another gold chain. I settled for tying the core up with the black thread that I got from the temple at Matunga. Mother just assumed that the core was another one of those hipster charm bracelets that seem to be all the rage nowadays.

The next day was spent trying to find the creative ways to use this new-found ability. The desire to learn more and more about it, grew quickly into an obsession. Almost all the time I spent awake was consumed by this thirst to learn more.

I suspended it on a twine to see if it leads me somewhere. Perhaps to find someplace where I can help people and get a minor adrenaline rush. But this core was disappointing me time and again. The core swayed with the wind, not holding a fixed direction. As usual, my hopes were hopelessly hopeless.

My experience with the Guardians was so exciting that everything else seemed dull. Day to day life seemed colourless, faded and jaded. I kept thinking over and over about all the things that happened and it desensitised me to the entire ordeal. Eventually, I found it hard to believe that all this actually happened to me. It all seemed like a vivid dream. The sickness in my mind grew. I almost believed that all I learnt and did was purely a figment of my over-active imagination. If it weren't for my lousy core, I would have believed it to be so. This was unhealthy and had to be stopped. I needed to get my real life back in order. Like every woman scorned, I needed closure.

The phones have become smart, but it's only as smart as the user. And this dumb user forgot to click a picture with the woman who he liked. I spent three days sketching Paviraa's likeness in chalk and charcoal as I was afraid that I would forget how she looked. I put the sketch in an old, refurbished wooden frame on my wall.

Once that was taken care of, I needed to get things moving (Have the metaphorical cogs turning). Without my musician gig, there was no money coming in. My father had planned to retire early and start his own private investigation firm. He had bought an office space years ago that I occasionally used when I had to meet clients.

If I had to lead a double life as a Guardian, I needed to be able to continue working cases while I was away. For this I needed help, and help presented itself to me at my doorstep. As they say, when opportunity comes knocking, you open the door.

*knock knock*

I opened the door to find a familiar face.

"Joseph Uncle, what's the occasion? Come in please," I said.

"I had come a few days back to see you. But you were not at home. Aanya seemed worried so I left without asking more," he said.

"Yes, I came back recently. So what can I do for you?" I asked.

"It's about Jerry," he said.

"I thought I took care of the problem," I said.

"You did. I just wanted to thank you for everything. You said you would take the case, you said there was a lot more to it, and you went beyond what I had asked of you to solve the issue. I don't know what you did, but he has been spending more time at home. He has calmed down more. Initially he seemed very jittery but now he is better. I even convinced him to look for work," he said.

"So he is looking for jobs?" I asked.

"Yes, he is," he answered.

"You remember dad had bought that office space, across the main road?" I asked.

"Yes I do," he said.

"Well I was looking for someone to sit there during office hours and attend calls, meet people and manage my affairs when I'm out for a case and to do all the chores. It will be difficult for me to pay him a salary, but he can take 10% of whatever I make," I said.

"Oh! For you, I would have had him work for free. Even 10% is too much. I will tell him to come see you tomorrow. Thank you so much," he said.

"It's nothing. I need help and he needs work. This is a win-win for both of us," I said.

"Thank you. I will go and tell him right away," he said as he was leaving.

I love it when things fall into place. It makes you believe in order in this chaotic world.

I bought a cheap phone and shifted my work phone number into that. This will remain in the office and Jerry can take any calls that come. Now all that was left was to have the office space cleaned. I walked over to the other side of the road. My dad bought this space years ago. Before the property boom of Mumbai, back when places were affordable and times were simpler. And now I will fulfil his dreams of running a successful investigative agency. Although, I am not so sure about the 'successful' part.

I opened the door to the office. Everything was covered in a film of dust, which made it look like a sepia toned image. As I walked through the narrow passage adjoining the door, I left shoe prints in the dust. The shoe rack stood on the side welcoming me, but I dared not take my shoe off in this pile of dust. A couple more steps and I was inside the main space.

An old table sat on one side. This was where dad would have sat, speaking to his clients if he were still alive. Across the table was a couch for people to sit and relax. A small lever on the side of the couch reminded me that it could unfold as a bed, for when I needed to work through the night. There was an empty book shelf on one wall. I suppose dad would have wanted to move all his books here, and I planned to do the same. That way, mom would have more space for her reading material. The book shelf was flanked on one side by a white-board, and the other side by a cork pin up board. He liked to make elaborate case charts with pictures, notes and string. 'Makes me see clearly' he used to say when asked about them.

On one end of the table, a small photo-frame with a picture of my parents and I, back from when I was a toddler wrapped in cloth. A lamp with a hibiscus shaped lampshade rested on the other end. I opened the windows up to get some circulation, tearing a recently made cobwebs and scaring a little pigeon that was resting on the window sill. A small colony of moss grew on the edges of the glass, reminding me that the monsoon was nigh.

On the opposite wall was a typical metal almirah, made from powder-coated sheet-metal, a common sight in every middle class Indian home. The keys to it were still inside the keyhole. A twist, followed by the sound of a metal lever moving inside it and the door opened. Inside it were a few box folders, filled with papers from dad's older cases. The drawer contained some of my dad's personal effects. His police lanyard, his spare holster, sunglasses, and a rusted police badge; remnants of his police life.

With the other key, I opened the locker in the almirah. The darkened space inside the locker had one sole occupant. A leather-bound diary that my dad left behind. The tanned creases on the brown leather, the yellowed pages and smell of old books reminded me of when mother and he used to hunt second-hand bookstores to get a better collection. I browsed through the pages and saw that the water damage had curled sheets into waves. More importantly it wiped out some diagrams that he had made in them. All I could make out were plans to some enclosure, a few hinges, a door, a magnet and the words 'there's more to the case' scribbled on the last page, perhaps as an after-thought.

I spent the next few hours cleaning the place out so as to have an office that won't kill asthmatic patients. Once I was satisfied with the appearance, I left for home.

The next morning, I took the list of tip-offs that I had given to the police and my miniscule number of case files and went to my new office. When I reached there I saw that Jerry was already there, at the door, knocking.

He had left his torn jeans behind for an ill fitting trouser, held with a belt above his hip bones. A yellow shirt with brown stripes hung on his shoulders like clothes on a hanger. The bottom of the shirt, tucked improperly, looked like a muffin top.

I cleared my throat.

*ahem*

He turned around as soon as I did that.

"Mr. Kel, my father asked me to come here. Thank you for this opportunity," he said.

"Hey, it's nothing. Mr. Kel was my dad. You can call me Rishaan. I'm glad you came on time. I needed help trying to get my business running well. Good to have you on-board," I said.

"No sir, I mean it. The last few years, I was a bit wayward, because of which people in the locality don't have any faith in me. I looked at a lot of places to get some work, but I got shunned everywhere. Thank you for showing faith in me despite my reputation," he replied.

"I don't care about your past, so long as you want your future to be different. Let's go inside now. You have a lot of work to do," I said.

He took the case files from my hand and I opened the door. He saw the office space and was happy. It was fairly large, as far as offices in Mumbai are concerned.

"OK, so the target for the day is setting this place up for the future. Until now, most of the work I have got has been through my dad's old partner. Whenever he has any police case that he can't get through, he gives me a call and when I solve it and give him the tip-off, I get the reward money, while he gets the credit. That way, his career progresses and we get more cases. The other source for our cases is through my Uncle," I said.

"Oh, I have heard of your uncle," he said.

"I guessed as much, considering your past," I said, "While I learnt the trade from my father and the books he left me, I learnt all the tricks of the trade from my uncle. You already know what he does so I won't go into that. So these two people are the first priority. Their calls, messages, emails, are always the most important. I don't want them to be kept waiting, ever."

"I understand," Jerry said.

I handed him the phone and he kept it carefully in his pocket.

"You will have to keep in touch with me. I won't be around all the time, if and when any cases come, you will have to inform me. If I am not answering the phone, you will have to send me all the relevant details, pictures, client information and case objectives by message," I said.

"Sure sir," he replied.

"And lastly the upkeep of this place. I have spoken to a maid to come here every morning. You have to ensure the place is kept clean. The files and folders must be arranged alphabetically. And anything else that's needed," I said.

He nodded.

"For now. I need you to arrange these tip-offs according to the date, and put them back in the folder. I will go and get a couple boxes of books from home. You can arrange them on the shelf once I get them. Once you are done with this, you need to call up the number saved as 'Flex' in the phone and ask them when the sign will be ready. I have asked for two new signboards, one for the door and one for outside the building. If it is ready, you can get it. Tomorrow I will call the carpenters to get it fixed," I said.

"Yes Sir," he said.

I suppose that was too much work for the first day, so I stopped. Everything else can wait. I went back home to get the boxes, while he started arranging all my old papers. I noticed as I was leaving that he was working quite diligently. Except for his constant blinking and shivering hands, because of the withdrawal syndrome, he seemed like a perfectly normal person.

Once I was home, I waited an hour till mom left for work, to get more time to spend with her. Once she left, I brought the two huge boxes of books near the front door. That's when the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find Jerry at the door, he was a bit winded because of the stairs.

"Hey, Jerry, what are you doing here?" I asked.

"Umm, I finished arranging the folders. The flex printers said the signs will be ready by 2pm. I will pick them up when they are ready. Then I spoke to the carpenter who lives in our building, he said he would be free in the evening and said that he will give us a better deal to us than the other guy. Then I didn't know what to do, so I came here to help with the boxes," he said.

"Excellent work there," I said.

His eyes widened and he smiled. I guess it was the first time he was being appreciated in a long time. Well, he clearly deserved it. We took the two boxes to the office and he wiped the dust off the books and I stacked them to my liking. After lunch, he went to pick the signboards up and I made calls to my two sources hoping for a case. My uncle didn't pick the call up but my dad's partner said he had something for me, he told me he would call me when things get a bit more certain.

While he was still out to get the signboard, I took my dad's diary out and looked at the half destroyed plans. While I was stacking the books, I had noticed something odd. Every time I pushed a hardbound book on the shelf. The book cover bumping against the back-wall of the shelf made a hollow thumping sound. And my attention was instantly drawn to the line in the diary 'There's more to the book'.