by Rajlakshmi Pillai
It’s another day again. I am standing here waiting for those who may not show up. I am all empty inside, except for some dirty bits of paper that naughty neighbourhood children have shoved in. These papers are without a soul. Things were not this bad, at least two decades ago. I used to be a busy bee. People came running to me, to deposit notes to their loved ones. There were days when I would be so stuffed, that there would be no place for more letters. Those were the days!
Those letters weren’t just letters, but emotions that could be felt only by a beating heart. No, I have never read any of those, how could I? But, you could feel from the touch, the weight, the smell and feel as to what they contained. Most used the blue Inland letters while those who needed pages to pour their heart into, chose the yellow envelope.
Mothers wrote to their children working in other cities or countries and each word screamed of pain and pining for her children. There were no demands or desires except a mother’s fervent prayer to see her children fine and happy. Wives wrote to their husbands complaints about household and mischievous children. Young lovers exchanged notes on longing-ness, heartache and passionate memories. Friends wrote to each other about happenings in their lives and teased one another on their follies.
Today, messages can be sent every minute and calls can be made any time, but haven’t you noticed, more modern the technology is, lesser is the communication? Messages often contain just a single word or a single letter or sometimes, just images referred to as emojis. Do they really mean emotional icons? How can you confine human emotions into a small image?
The letters that were transported from one place to another through me, may have had space issue but they always ended with a footnote which said, “That’s all for now, more later,” that meant there would soon be another letter that will continue the stories from the current one. Utmost care was taken to keep the handwriting neat and to ensure there were no spelling mistakes. Since most of the letters were in the mother tongue of writers, I can say they contained fewer errors which meant people of those days at least knew one language well. In present times, everybody tries to be multi-lingual and end up knowing many languages, but are masters of none.
I should also not forget the postmen and women who religiously collected all letters deposited in me and ensured that they reached the addressees mentioned, whichever corners in the country they would be. Homes waited eagerly for post men and women to knock at their doors. Never was the sighting of a khakhi uniform so delightful!
I know times have changed and that smart phones and the Internet have indeed made communication easier but are they better? I don’t think a ‘Like’ on a Facebook page has been able to replace the loving words handwritten on those letters. And it never can because technology will never be able to replace human emotions.
Though I am baring my heart to you, it really doesn’t mean I am sulking or cursing my fate. I am happy to have been born as a mailbox and I know that I will always be in the fond memories of people across generations. I do miss my letters though. People have not forgotten me but I guess they have been busy. I have heard that there is a mobile application named after me. How wonderful!
If that earnest and kind look in your face is true, then, can I ask you a favour? Please, don’t stop writing letters. Write to your loved ones once in a while and ask them to do the same. You will love the experience and feel the joy that only words written by hand can bring – something that SMSes and emails of today do not offer. Needless to say, nothing can beat the thrill of expectation when you wait for a letter to arrive and the happiness that floods you when it finally arrives at your door. And, all it takes is to make the start. Try it, right away!
Pic by https://www.flickr.com/photos/pixelfrenzy/
This is realty..missed…that time…