Skip to main content

Playing Post-Man (Girl?) for the Post-Man!




"Post!" 

Every month, my thrilled ten-year-old self would glide down the stairs two-at-a-time, beckoned by this call. The Post-Man, standing at the entrance to the quarters that we then lived in, would hold the monthly issue of the childrens' magazine I had subscribed to, with a beaming smile on his face. 

"Thank you uncle!" I'd exclaim gleefully, as I receive it from him. 
He'd smile affectionately at me, as he stood there organising the remaining bundle.

Being the curious child I was, I'd peep into the stack of posts, trying to find any which were addressed to my friends or to the people in the same block. If I happened to spot any of them from the said category, I'd offer to deliver them on his behalf. 

The Post-Man uncle would then with a grateful smile, hand over the respective posts to me, as he sped on his way with a, "Thank you very much, Paapa!"

I would then proceed to diligently face the task ahead of me, (which was honestly just another excuse to bother my friends and visit my neighbours, and sometimes to make new friends), to deliver the posts addressed to them. It also made me joyous, having helped ease someone's tedious work, which left me feeling like I've done something good that day. Having delivered all the posts, I'd happily head home to the magazine waiting to be read. 

Today, most of my subscriptions have become digital. My letters have evolved into instant messages and e-mails. There's high ease of access, timely delivery, and cost-efficiency. 

And yet, the small joy of holding the magazine and inhaling its scent, after a month of waiting, is absent. That unique bond of affection between the Post-Man and I, is lacking. And most of all, I miss playing Post-Man to the houses in the neighborhood, which made my ten-year-old self feel important and welcome, when the recipients smiled and thanked me as I delivered their posts. 

The thrill that, "Post!" invokes in me remains yet irreplaced by e-mails and instant messages.

-Pavithra Seshadri

Image courtesy: Google Images

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Sound of Moonlight

The lights begin to dim, as she walks in; Draped in silver threads, is her glowing skin. Like the quivering butterfly wings, Her eyelids flutter close, as she sings. Her voice resounds across the sky, Holding the triumph of a child’s first cry. The song is filled with joy and mirth, Like the music of a flower’s birth. So softly, the melody flows, Rustling their feathers as the nightingales doze. Enchanted by her beautiful beam, The stars around her blush and gleam. As she walks along the aisle, The waves rise to watch her smile. She sounds like the thrill of bedtime stories, And like laughter, free of worries. Like the curiosity in a child’s eyes, Like mischiefs and innocent lies. Like the mysteries that hide in the dark, Like the joyous cries of the skylark. She echoes the soft breaths of kids, As sleep begins to caress their eyelids. She voices the longing of lovers and their wistful sighs, As a ray of hope brightens the skies. The world is lost in the beauty of her song, Until anoth...

Time for Nature

The Lady Nature, clothed in blue silk, Held the thread in her hands, Weaving it into a giant web, Life brimming from its strands. She marveled at her handiwork And promptly named it, ‘The Earth’, It held myriads of wonderful beings And the cycles of their death and birth. And as Earth began to grow, Her fibre radiant and strong, The lives she bore evolved, Fashioning a chain ever so long. Plants, animals, insects, and birds, Links to the ever long chain, Holding and also held by it, Helping the thread sustain. Yet, as time went by, Rust came creeping in, Pollution, depletion, deforestation, Abrading the Earth’s skin. The chain grew weaker and weaker, As the wings of rust unfurled, Plants, animals, insects, and birds, Vanished from the world. The Earth lost its glory  And Nature began to wane; Humans, once her treasured creations, Had now become her bane. The songs of the birds drowned; The air torn by loud noises, They faded from existence And the world forgot their voi...

Re(Ve)al

Like wind-blown seeds, moving along the skies; Like the grains of sand, pulled along the waves; They wander, unmindful of the time that flies, With each step, slowly leading to their graves.   Still, they forget to pause and live Their eyes staring but never seeing, Forgetting to forget and forgive, These souls, alive, yet never feeling.   Oblivious minds, seeking different destinations Though the journey always ends in death; Losing their dreams to ruthless ambitions, Never realizing, until their last breath.   A task which consumes all their might To keep surviving, until Death calls Hiding behind masks through day and night, Their true faces concealed, until the mask falls.   A day will come when they would finally realize, Their identities, buried deep within Their souls lost in deception and disguise To exist without living, an unforgivable sin.    -Pavithra Seshadri   Image courtesy: Google Im...