Left at the post, alone

Shiv Sethi 

DEAR friends, like the young and bubbly youth, I too was the darling of all of you. Cutting across religious and political allegiances, you would pay frequent visits  to me to get to know the well-being of your loved ones. I was nothing short of a divine oracle who would be a popular medium of establishing a close connect with friends and relatives living far and wide. 

Over the long years of my experience in social service, I had developed a unique ability of gauging moods when you solicited my services. Some of you would approach me with a cheerful smile; others would drop by with teary eyes. The broad smiles would delight me too. In no time I would understand that either some good news of a wedding or the birth of a baby had arrived. On the other hand, moist eyes were the obvious signal of some untoward happening. But I never disappointed anyone of you. It was my duty to keep your joys and sorrows alike in my big womb. After delivering your emotions of mirth and gloom, I would be pregnant again with more varied emotions, to deliver them on time. 

I was an integral part of the lives of the rich and poor, catering to the needs of every class without any socio-political bias. But the advent of technology has made my existence almost meaningless now. Though I am still found at some places standing tall on duty, waiting for my visitors, but technology has dramatically reduced my popularity. 

I have, more or less, become a showpiece festooning the outside area of my office. Whereas you folks have left me alone in my dying days, sparrows and pigeons weave their nests in and on me. I remain quiet for many days, and sometimes, for many months. But this quietness does not delight me. You must be thinking who is this old oracle lamenting the loss of the good old days! I am your sentinel postbox clad in red attire, on duty in front of post-offices. My innovative and revolutionary rivals like emails, Whatsapp, Facebook and cell phones have outdone my utility and services. Now, some government officials, occasionally, fill my belly with their feelingless bland stuff. But I don’t shirk my work. Like a dedicated worker, I am always at their disposal to carry the weight and then deliver it. 

I am your old friend: the letterbox, whom you rarely come to meet. But I am writing this letter to all of you without any hard feelings. These days, you have got better and quicker modes of conveying your joys and sorrows, but I still miss you with the same enthusiasm and love.

Yours faithfully

The Letterbox