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The post captures an interview with an old postman reflecting on his past experiences in a time when communication relied on personal delivery. Sitting in the shade, he reminisces about his bicycle journeys and the warmth of community interactions, describing how he got treatment like a family member. The postman shares poignant memories of delivering letters and the emotional connections forged through his duties. He contrasts this with rapid technological advances, noting the impending retirement of the iconic red letterbox, a symbol of nostalgia and emotional ties representing an era now fading away. Acknowledging both loss and progress, he welcomes the new era.

The aeroplane

The sky was a clear azure, and the sun had risen above the horizon. The shadows had gradually been shortening. Despite the shining sun, it was not harsh. The monsoon had retreated, and the weather was gradually becoming colder. A plane flew overhead. It was flying at a relatively low altitude. The windows were clearly visible, and the red writing on its fuselage indicated that it was an Air India plane. The low height of the plane indicated that it was about to land. Sitting beneath the tree, a lean human figure, deep in thought looked up and smiled at the sight of the aeroplane. His life was also like it, he thought; flying on an ordained route to land on a predestined place, he murmured in a feeble voice, not audible to the outside world.

The Septuagenerian

He was sitting on a wooden chair in the penumbra of the sun and the shadow of the tree with a shady canopy. A septuagenarian with a grizzled beard, the bespectacled man was frail but stoutly built. His demeanour was telling about his physical and financial status. Looking again at the roaring aeroplane, he nodded with a feeble smile as if he wanted to give wings to his thoughts. Reminiscing about his experiences in his job, he was in it until his superannuation.

Sitting before him was a younger man, curiously asking questions. The old man was replying to his questions, looking up at the sky, diving deep into his past.

In conversation with postman

The old man spoke in a low and husky voice. Initially, it appeared as if he was soliloquising, but as he continued speaking, his speech became clear and audible without any sign of the husky tone of old age. “It was the time we used to go places on our bicycles”, the old man said in the tone of a chirping bird. He looked at the person conversing with him, took a brief pause, and continued, “Those were the days when post offices were not only a government office”. He was speaking in a way as if words were flowing out of his mouth and sketching a word-picture. (Postal Adda)

The old lady

He kept silent for a few moments, looking at the ground and scratching the dust with his sandal. It seemed as though he was gathering his memories. “It was a warm noon of summer”, he started saying, “hot westerly Looh were lashing. With a wrapped head with a cotton stole, I rang the bell of my bicycle at the door”. Continuing the story, he added, “The door opened, and an older woman in white saari appeared behind the door.” He finished his sentence saying, “The old lady sat on the ground across the heavy and carved wooden door”.

Postman

The septuagenarian was serving as a postman. The old lady received him tenderly and called someone in the house. A teenage girl came holding a saucer containing pieces of jaggery and a pitcher of water in her hands. After a few moments, he said, “The matriarch affectionately requested me to have water, which I took.” Watching him while he drank water, the lady said to him, “I was expecting you, dear son!” She was gleaming with sober joy.

“It was the time when a postman was not merely a government employee but was treated as a member of the family”, the retired postman said to the young man who was conversing with him.

For readers, it is appropriate to mention that the young person who was talking to the old and retired postman was related to him from his mother’s side. The young man had come to spend some time in a rustic environment away from the city. He was eagerly conversing, asking questions to learn about the life of a postman.

Old-time life with the eyes of a postman

“The society was in an early stage”, the postman continued his story. “There was no electricity. Streets were lighted by kerosene lamps placed at the top of wooden poles fixed at intervals. People used hand-operated self-made fans”, remembering his days, he said.

“How did you like your job?” the city dweller young man asked, and adding further, said, “How did people used to treat you?” he concluded.

“People were very cordial”, the postman said, diving deep into his memories. A faint smile that ironed lines on his old face came. “They would proactively offer place to sit and offer water during hot summer days. The old lady, whom I just mentioned, greeted me and requested me to sit”, the old man finished his sentence.

Resuming his talk, the old postman continued, “Before the old lady could say, I took out a bundle of letters from a bag and sorted out an envelope for her”. She became happy to see the envelope and asked if he had something more. “Was it all, my son?” She had asked. There was a postcard also, so I nodded in affirmation. “Mother, there is one more postcard”, I had said.

“Please read out for me, my son!” The old woman said. I read out that postcard to her. She felt relieved as all was well in the card.

A postman’s perception: Simple people, happy life

Without waiting for further questions, the postman poured his heart out. “Village people were, by and large, illiterate or semi-literate but were simple, cooperative and happy with whatever they had”. Continuing further, he said, “The needy one waited for us because they expected a money order. If they got it, they used to become happy.” He stopped.

“Did you ever feel sorry while performing your duties?” The cityman asked.

“Hmm…” he hummed, “sometimes sad news had to be read for them. I always tried to hurt them the least, so I read it in their language, ensuring the essence was conveyed.” He paused. Pain flashed in his eyes. “I used to console them in their moments of grief, but leaving them, I used to go further to distribute other postal materials to other villagers. It was my duty”.

Letterboxes

The postman was reminiscing about the days when communication was much slower and carried out manually. The red letterbox in the village post office symbolised assurance, offering news about the well-being of loved ones living far away. The post office and the postman brought hope and aspirations to many. Some awaited appointment letters, while others waited for their examination admit cards. Sisters eagerly anticipated messages about the welfare of their brothers serving at the frontiers, and brothers longed for their “Rakhi.” Children waited for a note from their father, and wives yearned for a few words of love and care from their husbands. Everyone had something they were waiting for; the post office and the postman had something for each of them. He even offered solace to those who did not get anything.

New era of technology

The advent of computer technology has shortened the waiting period considerably. Anything, be it a picture, text, audio, or video, can be sent easily in no time. No one needs to courier the messages. It considerably shortens the wait period, reduces the risk of losing important communications in transit and ensures effective, immediate, real-time delivery of messages. Computers have made it very easy. Ease of use, convenience and small size of the computing machines have enabled them to penetrate deep into society.

The red post box has finally been retired. Serving for 171 years, the iconic letterbox said adieu to us from 01 September 2025. It is really an emotional attachment that kept each one of us, especially old-timers, glued together. It was not only a box, but it was a bundle of emotions. The farewell of the postbox is painful, but it also reminds us that everything is perishable in this temporal world. The old gives way to the new. The new revolutionises the old and causes radical change in style and functioning.

Farewell to an era

The letter boxes left a legacy of a long and often untold saga of development, evolution and the journey of human beings. It is etched in the psyche of people who lived and see these boxes in action. Bidding them goodbye is giving farewell to an era as well which kept us bonded and connected in more ways than one. It allowed us the romance of letter writing. The time will flash in memory when people would spent hours selecting appropriate letter pads and writing instruments in a stationery shop. The involvement of mind and soul in writing a letter, endeavouring to pour the heart onto the paper, and finally waiting for a reply, would be a cherished memory. People, especially of that time, would miss this.

Though it is a little painful, it is also good because it allows space for faster technology. The machine has taken over, and work is being done by machines, robots, drones and computers. The gadgets have become an inseparable part of life. The technology has opened an entirely new vista of endless possibilities, aspirations and expectations. Welcome to a new Era of technological advancement!

Further reads:

• Defining the Common Man in One Word
• A Letter to My 100-Year-Old Self: Reflections & Wisdom
• The Power of Daily Writing: Express Yourself
• Discovering Comfort Food: A Journey of Taste and Tradition
• Podcast Episode: Indian Cinema Through The Years

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