The Postman is now a rare sight ....
He was that familiar man from an era long gone by , who would bring the news from far away relatives , riding on a bicycle through the lanes and bylanes of every city , town and countryside .
He knew all the addresses by heart , most of the times he personally knew the people too who resided at those addreses and at times he was allowed to be a part of the news he brought for them
The Post Office was a reservoir of information and the postman was the person who distributed not just letters , but many a time could help in bringing long lost friends to connect with each other once again .... like it happened a couple of years ago when an elderly online friend of mine had asked me to find a friend of his who he had lost touch over the the years , and had not contacted for close to half a century.... !!!
He had given me the address of fifty years ago.
And YES... ! Astonishingly in a city like Mumabi I could locate that person .....
With the help of The Postman of that lacality.....!!!
But The Postman is now a rare sight .....
No one writes letters these days .... May be a few times in a month we get some business mail or a couple of bills through postal services . And hence this rather heavy envelope which came along in the post some weeks ago , went neglected untill I opened it at least two weekends later when I found the time to clear the accumulated " raddi " on my shelf.
It was this envelope , apparently carrying a load of waste paper inside it , which was to give me the most pleasant surprise in a long time.
As I emptied the envelope of its contents I found greeting cards , book marks and some brochures carrying information and details about the sender :
The IMFPA .... ( The Indian Mouth and Foot Painting Artists )
As I held the amazingly beautiful contents in my hands I felt the deepest sense of respect for the dignified senders.
And then nostalgia gripped me like a hypnotic charmer .....
I struggled to remember all those greeting cards exchanged on birthdays , New Years and festivals ....
When was the last time I had sent (or recieved ) such a card ?
Must have been too long ago because there seemed to be no connecting link in sight which would put together the present with the past this time .
The diary which contained postal addresses of friends had gone into hiding in the lowest drawer at the foot of that wooden chest which had not been touched for ages now ....as if it had never existed.
But inside it existed a whole world that changing times had tried to kill through neglect.
But surely and thankfully too, that world had sustained itself courageously and so beautifully....
Among the pages of that old dusty diary were familiar paths leading to real places and real people.
I could feel their fragrance . I could feel their affection ....
I had found my dormant Paradise.
This festive season I'm going to let the Postman work a bit more .... because I'm going to send greeting cards to my clan and friends .... so just wait my dears ....here I come .....
Look for the Dakiya-daak-laya ..... because ...... Zindgi aa rahi hoon main ..... :-) :-) :-) !!!!
He was that familiar man from an era long gone by , who would bring the news from far away relatives , riding on a bicycle through the lanes and bylanes of every city , town and countryside .
He knew all the addresses by heart , most of the times he personally knew the people too who resided at those addreses and at times he was allowed to be a part of the news he brought for them
The Post Office was a reservoir of information and the postman was the person who distributed not just letters , but many a time could help in bringing long lost friends to connect with each other once again .... like it happened a couple of years ago when an elderly online friend of mine had asked me to find a friend of his who he had lost touch over the the years , and had not contacted for close to half a century.... !!!
He had given me the address of fifty years ago.
And YES... ! Astonishingly in a city like Mumabi I could locate that person .....
With the help of The Postman of that lacality.....!!!
But The Postman is now a rare sight .....
No one writes letters these days .... May be a few times in a month we get some business mail or a couple of bills through postal services . And hence this rather heavy envelope which came along in the post some weeks ago , went neglected untill I opened it at least two weekends later when I found the time to clear the accumulated " raddi " on my shelf.
It was this envelope , apparently carrying a load of waste paper inside it , which was to give me the most pleasant surprise in a long time.
As I emptied the envelope of its contents I found greeting cards , book marks and some brochures carrying information and details about the sender :
The IMFPA .... ( The Indian Mouth and Foot Painting Artists )
As I held the amazingly beautiful contents in my hands I felt the deepest sense of respect for the dignified senders.
And then nostalgia gripped me like a hypnotic charmer .....
I struggled to remember all those greeting cards exchanged on birthdays , New Years and festivals ....
When was the last time I had sent (or recieved ) such a card ?
Must have been too long ago because there seemed to be no connecting link in sight which would put together the present with the past this time .
The diary which contained postal addresses of friends had gone into hiding in the lowest drawer at the foot of that wooden chest which had not been touched for ages now ....as if it had never existed.
But inside it existed a whole world that changing times had tried to kill through neglect.
But surely and thankfully too, that world had sustained itself courageously and so beautifully....
Among the pages of that old dusty diary were familiar paths leading to real places and real people.
I could feel their fragrance . I could feel their affection ....
I had found my dormant Paradise.
This festive season I'm going to let the Postman work a bit more .... because I'm going to send greeting cards to my clan and friends .... so just wait my dears ....here I come .....
Look for the Dakiya-daak-laya ..... because ...... Zindgi aa rahi hoon main ..... :-) :-) :-) !!!!
3 comments:
You wont believe this but in my line of work, I still depend on postal and courier mails. And most couriers work only in the urban areas. I have a number of donors who read my appeals and respond and they are from minute villages..
Let me tell you the post man is still going strong and very much a part of my realm.
May be down sized but he is more prominent to me than the expensive courier who if he did not find an address will just leave the letter to rot till he is tracked by the sender or the receiver. But my postman reaches the nooks and corners of the country and I can depend on him and his google mind to find any address for me.
Actually if you are lost anywhere in a new city head for a post office and locate the address through them..
And the speed post is such a blessing too. Really prompt.
Such a pity the telegraph had to go- but it had become redundant.
I am delighted to hear this Nishath ..... Long live the Postman .... he used to be the most important man in my life once upon a time :-) :-)
I remember this line from my Hindi text book in the school," Aandhi aaye,toofaan aaye ya barsaat,dakiyaa aayega,rail chalegi"....... :-)
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