Red Letter Box

My eyes twinkled by seeing a Red Letter Box of Indian Post Office. It had been years I used it or I can say no one has used it for me also since years. In the era of information and media revolution days are gone when we used to wait for a letter from our dear ones. Such emotions motivated Pannalal Patel, a renowned Gujarati Laureate, to write one of the word’s best short stories “Post Office” characters of which were Mariam and Ali (father-daughter duo) and which we all have studied in school days.

My connection with this red box is also very intimate. In my Gurukul days my illiterate mother wrote me letters regularly. She knew that I wait for her letter every week and she never disappointed me. She was one of the unfortunate ladies of India who has not got the Akshar Gyan, but this never hindered in her regularity to write me letters. Every week she used to go to a neighbor by taking pen and yellow postcard and ask them to pen down her love for me, if someone was busy then she had to go to another person. So, I never received letter written by my mother but I always received her care and love embedded on those postcards. At that time I didn’t understand her much but today I can visualize how she had to plead someone to write me a letter. And I trust my Jamsaheb’s feelings were greater than those words. I don’t have those letters today but I still remember the contents. As winter is going on it reminds that she used to write “beta please wear sweater and don’t worry washing of Uniforms (we had white kurta payjama as winter uniform and I still have them) everyday, I’ll bring more for you. Please have proper meals otherwise you will fall ill, apply vicks near your nose regularly and I want to see you like tamatar when next time I’ll come to see you (we were allowed to see our parents twice in one term for 2-3 hours on predecided days) also let me know anything special you want to eat I’ll get them for you, all your favourite dishes will come.” All these sweet memories started popping up in my mind when I saw that red box.

My father never wrote me even a single letter during my six years in Gurukul, I still feel regret about it. People neglect small things in life but life is made up of small things and if we miss them then gap in relations keep widening.

Finally how can I forget my all sweet friend’s letters especially from Sangi and still I have these letters. Innocence love and dreams to touch the sky and one of the finest writings which can make them Laureates are with me and I love to read them.