Kiran Mehra Part 1: The Parcel Wrapped in Silk The parcel arrived on a late Monday afternoon, wrapped in fading blue silk with frayed edges that smelled faintly of mothballs and sandalwood. Advaita Roy didn’t remember ordering anything. No note. No sender. Just her name—Ms. A. Roy—written in a dark ink that had bled slightly at the corners, as if the paper had once wept. She set the package on her studio table, brushing aside paintbrushes, restoration cloths, and a yellowing file titled “Reclamation: Bengal Portraiture, 1890–1920.” Her studio, perched on the first floor of a heritage building near Kolkata’s…