When The Letter Writes

Dalia N, III B.A. English.

Dearest young one,

I still remember the day you were excited about having written your first letter. Nowadays you are never around when the postman visits and I miss the pitter-patter of your feet as you ran to receive me. It has been so long, you haven’t been keeping in touch and so I am writing to you.

You and I are separated by time. You have means to connect with people instantly, but I cannot abandon my duty to deliver messages personally. You have been busy and my patience has been put to test. I am a simpleton; I am nothing if you do not acknowledge me as a way to convey your sentiments and opinions.

My old age is making me rant. Pardon me for complaining. When you were a toddler you would wait at the porch to hear the bell ring at a distance and when the postman appeared you would run to him in hope of getting something for yourself. With a disdainful face you would walk in and as I looked at your face, bent down towards me, I would beseech all the natural forces to change the recipient and somehow address myself to you, so that I could see your smile. The world was not completely merciless; it found a way to make me a part of your school education. You enthusiastically wrote to whoever you could. Red tape tried to stop you, you did not relent. I remember vividly those days when you passed messages through me and giggled heartily upon reading the responses. I cannot hear you anymore, I wondered if that was due to my old age or due to the contempt for those who had eroded away with time.

Your silence made me anxious, you know that I am too emotional. When I fervently searched for the cause of your absence, I came to know that you had become adept with gizmos that connected you with people anywhere at any time. I have to admit that I was a little offended. But you are still that child who had eagerly awaited me. I shall never scorn you.

I have not been entirely forgotten by others either. Post offices have adopted new stratagems to keep the crowds pouring in and consequently I linger in their thoughts. Well, you know human lethargy and that is why my friends – Parchment, Ink, Stamp and I do not meet often. When we do rendezvous at someone’s doorstep we work our magic. We have witnessed more than a million smiles. We deeply regret the tears. However we are glad that we are portals to the much coveted past of our hosts and guests.

Today people turn me down telling they are trying to be “eco-friendly”. Am I really the reason behind the devastation caused by the noisy, funny-looking, bulky bicycles? You call them bikes and cars, I suppose. I remind humanity of love. I write to you because I do not want you to be bereft of the magic that I can bring. I am hoping that you would pass messages through me again.

Hoping to live forever with your love,
Yours lovingly


September 30, 2016.

P.S.: I shall never let the memories you have locked inside of me fade, they shall remain there, waiting for you to return to them.


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