"Dak aya"

 Time was when clouds used to be the messengers, as in "Meghdootam". That was sheer lyrical expression of intense passion. In reality, however, trained pigeons might carry the messages. Yet another mode of communication used to be the horse riders. In desert(ed) lands, it could be the camel. Difficult, and hence indeed much desired, was  communication.

Those were the long lost historical days. Towards the end of the nineteenth century, in Switzerland began the post office. Soon the service spread world wide. Indeed the postman was a magical figure, much awaited almost till the turn of the millenium.

Have you heard that song " Dakiya Dak laya"? No, nothing unusually great about it as a song. The lyric, however, describes in great detail the activities of a postman in far flung rural areas.

Why, even in urban areas, letters were the regular means of communication. Diwali cards, Sankranti Tilgul to all the relatives by post were rituals Aai-Papa followed with a sweet regularity. We were made to draw greeting cards. Aai used to stitch cute little pouches, 'potlis', for the delicate halwa, extremely difficult to make, though she was excellent at it.

As a family, we know the intense wait for letters as Raju would sail for the 'at least eight months' long assignment. We have waited for his letters (landline phones, too, were not easily available till the early 1990's) as eagerly as a farmer would await the monsoon. His neatly written letters in his nice handwriting were literally the elixir, the manna from the Heaven, for us all.

The romance of letters, much celebrated in Bollywood phillums, died a sad death once mobile data became available in cheap abundance. Now most people communicate with emoji's. Looks wise quite like the ancient hieroglyphics, the emoji's have destroyed the art of writing. In the so-called busy times, who reads? Exceptions, of course, are there, you all regular readers of my blog, for instance! Thank you indeed!

Now the post office always wears the look of the (mostly to be closed) co-operative banks, once haunted by small time investors and pensioners. Postmen, and post women, too, are there. Now, however, they carry  unexciting, not awaited, regular stuff.

Well, times change. So do technologies. Yet nostalgia never dies. In that sense, the comatose art of letter writing would never die!

Pratima@ To write a letter is humane. To receive one is heavenly!