Waiting For The Postman’s Knock On World Post Day

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Waiting For The Postman’s Knock On World Post Day


As of late is World Post Day. Its goal is to remind the arena concerning the Put up’s function within the on a regular basis lives of other folks and companies and its contribution to international social and financial building. This was once mooted by means of an Indian, Anand Mohan Narula, in 1969 at a Common Postal Union Congress held in Tokyo. Since then, Global Put up Day has been celebrated on October nine.

I had by no means heard of it sooner than, however I’m keen on the day. A birthday party to commemorate India Put up and honour its indefatigable postmen. There was once a time when the postman was once my pal. I used to be in my teenagers and had 33 penpals from other portions of the rustic. The postman got here two times an afternoon, at eight.30 am, and a pair of.30 pm. I used to look forward to the sound of the curtains rustling as he driven the mail in throughout the letter slot of our door. The cushy ‘plop’ it made because it fell onto the ground was once the spotlight of my day.

I’d spend a couple of sumptuous moments guessing the place the letters had been from. The gorgeous Bengali woman finding out in Santiniketan? Or the rugged Nepali from the previous Ghoom Monastery in Darjeeling? Possibly it was once from Madras, Raipur, Meerut, Jammu, Bhopal, and even Jhumri Telaiya that was once at the beginning in Bihar and is now in Jharkhand. I had pen friends my age, of each sexes, with whom I’d shyly percentage the fantasies of teen, and boldly change black-and-white pictures taken on Agfa and Kodak gravure cameras. The postman was once the go-between. Our pleasant neighbourhood messenger.

No one I knew, were given applications within the mail, nor cash. Telegrams, by means of some extraordinary design, simplest arrived in the dark.

At Diwali and Christmas, the postman would knock at the door grinning in greeting. It was once commonplace to offer him what was once referred to as baksheesh. He can be accompanied by means of the postmen who did the VVP (Price Payable Put up) a.okay.a the Amazon, Flipkart, Myntra and Snapdeal of the ones days, and do the Cash Order rounds. The man who cycled up in a tearing hurry with telegrams that simplest carried information of demise from far flung puts additionally got here alongside the ones days. We simplest noticed those postmen on festive events.

No one I knew, were given applications within the mail, nor cash. Telegrams, by means of some extraordinary design, simplest arrived in the dark. And no one grudged those postmen their baksheesh.

As of late’s technology won’t know the romance of receiving mail throughout the submit.

That was once then. I have not observed the postman in ages. I perceive he basically delivers govt paperwork corresponding to passports, riding licenses and Aadhar playing cards now. As a substitute, the courier guy comes at ordinary hours with mail. I get up each morning to search out my Gmail inbox flooded with correspondence. The ping on my mobile phone broadcasts the coming of a message on SMS or Whatsapp that beats the Specific Telegram. So I ponder who makes use of India Put up lately.

I nonetheless search for its acquainted squat pink post-box patiently status on boulevard corners. Its mouth yawning huge and looking forward to mail to be fed in. After which I’m dismayed to look its abdomen hole and gaping open as a result of some vagrant or druggie has cruelly damaged its door to promote as scrap steel. I believe a twinge of remorseful about and disappointment. As of late’s technology won’t know the romance of receiving mail throughout the submit. Or the nail-biting anxiousness of the varsity examination effects coming house on the finish of the summer season holiday.



Mark Manuel

The whole thing is completed on-line or despatched by means of e-mail. However in towns like London and New York, I in finding post-boxes gaily painted in pink and blue, which tells me the Put up Administrative center is energetic there. I take footage with them like they’re previous pals. When I will be able to, I purchase horny postcards and mail them to myself. Only for the joys of listening to the curtains rustle once more again house, because the postman drops the mail in throughout the letter-slot that can fall with a cushy ‘plop’ at the flooring.

The critiques expressed on this submit are the private perspectives of the creator. They don’t essentially mirror the perspectives of HuffPost India. Any omissions or mistakes are the creator’s and HuffPost India does no longer suppose any legal responsibility or duty for them.



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