Thursday, June 23, 2005

I Rote To Ruth

I don’t know why I titled my blog so. But it sounds cool. In fact, this is the first time I wrote a letter to someone and what an experience. To pull out a pad and scribble words onto the blank papers, is absolutely irreplaceable by fingers tapping on a keyboard. The sight of a bright white envelope and the four lines of an address is again a superior high as compared to a single line of something@somethingelse.somthing.

After I had finished writing it, I was filled with the laziness of a lion to go and post it. I mean, the post office is a 1½ minute trot from where I reside but NO… lazy. My father then made me go down to the bank SIX TIMES over and I’m not joking. I took it as providence and the sixth time around, I decided to post it. The whole thing is so much fun. Walking over in the pouring rain to a deserted post office where the government servants sit around behind their counters with the expression of a disinterested munshi on a holiday. “Can I have a five rupee stamp please?” I ask. The lady shows me her palm like a traffic cop and opens her drawer. It takes like 20 years for her to pull out a stamp and shove it to my side of the counter. She then slunk into her chair and almost slept off till I asked for glue. So the lady snarls and takes another 30 years to go in and get some gooey looking blue substance which felt like solidified mucus… Yuk! So I stick the damn stamp and walk over to the red post box. I was overwhelmed and as I pushed the envelope down the throat of the red dormant beast, I had the warmest feelings running through my heart and I felt myself smiling. I even whispered ‘take care, Ruth’ as I let go of the envelope. I felt the rain hit my face with gentle slaps and the breeze caressing each one very gently. I walked home and realized how nice it feels to write the old fashioned way. I’m sure to write a few more now. More than writing it’s the effort and love that goes into going to the post office and stamping and the best part is letting the envelope drop into the many of its own kind. Each one having something to convey. Each, as filled with news (good and/or bad) and affection as every human being in a crowd.

Somehow I’m glad to have changed my opinion about snail mail. Thanks for the motivation Ruth.

No comments: