The money order and chaos

THE postman hadn’t expected such a response to his call ‘amma… money order!’ at our doorstep. All through his career, he would have only received a warm reception while handing over cash. My grandmother had every reason to express shock and disbelief. Time and again, it was she who had been sending money to her brother-in-law at Bengaluru on receiving his letters for financial help. None had ever sent her money.

‘Where has this money order come from?’ she enquired.

The postman’s reply compounded her confusion. The money order was from her brother-in-law.

‘Is it for 300 rupees?’ she asked. The postman nodded.

‘Oh oh… what the hell is happening! That was the exact amount I sent to Bengaluru yesterday by money order… How dare you come here to return it to me?’

The postman was puzzled. Grandma looked at me and my elder brother. She snatched the money order form and quickly identified the handwriting. It seemed she had solved the riddle.

She started yelling at my brother: ‘You mixed up the addresses of the sender and the recipient… oh my God… what will I do now?’

She told the postman that the money was intended to be sent to Bengaluru and not the other way round. He firmly told her that it was his duty to deliver the cash to her as per postal rules.

An irrepressible woman who had faced innumerable challenges courageously, my grandma told the postman that she had asked her grandson only the day before to send a money order and she would not accept that cash in return from the postal authorities. The poor postman couldn’t do anything further and calmly left the place, advising her to take up the matter with the post office.

We followed our grandma, who marched towards the post office near our house. It was amusing to hear her argue with the postmaster. She narrated her travails — the loss of her eldest daughter (my mother) two decades ago, the struggle to bring up her grandchildren, the death of her husband, a headmaster, and her ongoing fight for his pension.

The postmaster convinced her that it was her grandson who had erred in filling the money order form and the post office had no option but to return the money. Ultimately, she accepted the cash with tears in her eyes and made a special request to the postmaster that the acknowledgement shall not be sent to Bengaluru, for it would convey the wrong message. With great reluctance and after my grandma’s repeated pleas, he relented.

Then, a new money order form was filled to send the money to her brother-in-law, and the commission had to be paid once more. My grandma glared at my brother, who promptly and apologetically bowed his head.