Out of Place, Out of Time

By: Aditya Naidu
Submitted: 2007-01-17 16:40:07
Print this article | Tell a friend | For publisher |

Rating:

 

One may think of it as dubious, but it was an ethereal experience waiting for the post office to open. I never expected it to open at 9AM but had woken up early with nothing much to do, so armed with “If tomorrow comes” which was thrust upon me by a good friend and with the guilt that I was still not done with it I reached the post office to be enlightened that they generally open at 10AM.

With not many people around I felt out of place. The weather was perfect. A cool winter morning but without the crowd and hence the morning blues of a “Going fast nowhere” Mumbaikar. I sat on a platform very near to the main door, so that I get an advantage in getting to the counter first – typical of a Mumbaikar. Reading the novel and holding the important letter, I could see the burgeoning traffic of Mumbai and hear the associated drone from a short distance.

The place outside the post office compound had changed radically over the years – the road changed from tar to concrete, the traffic signals that were not used due to sparse automobiles were put to work, illegal shops had come and gone thanks to the rare upright people who amazingly reach the top. But inside the compound things were static just as they are at Wimbledon, still better maybe. As if change was frowned upon. Cement pealing off from walls, the rickety wooden furniture from grandpa’s generation, wires dangling from the ceiling with cobwebs.

The facade of the post office was not all that welcoming, yet I was intrigued… attracted would be the right word, just like a wary tourist when he sights an old monument. And not just because of it being out of place but also due to it being plausibly out of date. It - and at a larger level the whole of India Post - has weathered the test of time. The local company after which the post office was named had changed its name. But true to its ethos a post office never changes its name. The post office is a bigger land mark than the other mortal artifacts around. There is no plastic coated paper, no sales persons wearing a tie too eager to help, no air conditioning, no management gurus working there, no jazzy advertisements. But still the post office stood strong. The first thing that came to my mind was an SBI advertisement that read “Our 8999 branches didn’t make sense to the tired, wary Indian solider in Ladhak, so we opened a branch there.” But India Post is one up on SBI. It is for the masses, the ubiquitous “common man” of India who exists today, who can’t be served by courier services that charge a bomb and lets you track your letter on the internet.

It had been an enlightening wait. As long as the common man exists India Post will remain in all the out of place and out of time surroundings. Whether my important mail reaches its destination – which in all probabilities will - is a different matter.

Article source: Expert Articles