My today's visit to the post office finally made me write this post. Every visit to the post office reminds me of the famous serial Malgudi Days. Why? Here is why ...
Its situated in an old structure, dating back to the time when British ruled us. It has those typical stone walls and red brick roof on the outside. On the inside it has that typical high ceiling, which requires a minimum of 10feet rods to suspend ceiling fans. It smells of old papers and glue, and of the wooden girders which support the ceiling. The men in the post office at times seem to be as old as the building itself.
These buildings always filled me with mixed emotions, on one hand when they would remind me of sweet past and of serials like Malgudi Days. Yet sometimes I couldn't feel one with them, because they also felt foreign to me, maybe because of their English architecture.
The part which makes me really uneasy, is when I see these grandfather figures in the post office working on computers. Trying to type, using only the index fingers of their hands. No-no don't get me wrong, I ain't against computerization or modernization of post-offices. But the setting of the post office, and of the huge mango trees in its backyard, make me feel that this building should be inhabited by babus wearing Kolhapuri chappals along with dhotis and a white long shirt, with paan stained lips and deep set eyes peering over thick framed glasses, with neatly oiled graying hair, the oil smelling of chameli . Don't get me wrong again, I ain't making fun of their fashion sense, lest I wouldn't call them grandfather figures. But, its just that all these years, one has the tendency of associating old buildings with old time babus, who sadly have become a rare sight now.
Now one can only find such associations in serials like Malgudi Days or one's imagination. It does make me feel uneasy, when I hear the screeching printers in place of the thuds of the rubber stamps, which were so typical of a post-office. It does make me feel uneasy, when I see barely a couple of people at the post-offices, when there was a time, one would have to wait for hours for his turn at the post-office. Although, we still have postmen who drop our letters at the mailbox and we don't even see them for years together. Whereas, there was a time, when postmen were friends, old uncles on cycles, those who helped you cross roads when you would return from school. Those, who shooed away the dogs, when you played with your friends. Those, for whom we would wait for hours, to deliver us those letters from loved ones!
I wish at times, I would get my old India back, the India which is now only a memory in serials like Malgudi Days!

It was a winter afternoon, but the heat was no less than the one experienced in May. I got down from my bus and headed for the six-seater stand. There was a kid hailing passengers to his vehicle, which was roaring with a rhythm, I wondered, whether these vehicles are ever shut down? I crammed my way in, sitting next to a lady, with a bold magenta lip color adoring her lips. The sun shone straight at my face, through the broken window of the seater. The kid sitting opposite me wiped sweat off his brow. A college girl with a hat, came and sat next to the boy. I couldn't help but think, things were so much better when we were in school, we had set aims, school then college and then engineering and then a good job. Little did we know that the real struggle starts here, and all this time we would think that it all ended here. I wondered whether do these people have the same questions running in their minds, that college girl, the lady next to me, the kid in front of me, the uncle sitting next to the driver.

I looked at the shops, its been so many years, I have taken the same road home, its almost 10years I have been plying to and fro on this road. There were bushes here, barren land, some huts, I remember zipping on this road on a friend's sunny and often on my scooty. It was rarely crowded then, and now, there is a perpetual traffic jam. 3 new malls have sprung in that stretch, which can be covered in say some 20 steps, the 4th mall is nearing completion.

I wonder, even the land has progressed, but have I? Well, I ain't doing all that bad, I have a super job which most people envy, I have a great life, a good pay check and most importantly I stay with my family. My mummy waits for me to get back home, there is always her lap to cuddle up, and cry when things get nasty. Its just about perfect.

Yup, just about, I wonder, why did I say just about. My stop had come, I request the boy to tell the driver to stop. I get up and hit my head against the roof, drag my bag, and my jacket gets stuck in some nail, which is nearly invisible. I struggle to free my jacket while trying to maintain my balance among innumerable pairs of legs, with their knees touching each other in a pattern which looked interwoven. I finally manage to get my jacket free, I can't hold my bag its too heavy and there is no place so that I can carry it well. I end up dragging it on top of the rail of all those legs, hitting my head a minimum of six times, and finally I jump out and take a deep breath. I pay the driver, and haul my bag over my back. Every time I do this I invariably think of the donkey's story. The one, where a merchant would place sacks of salt on the back of his donkey, and the donkey would sit in the river while crossing it, so as to reduce the load. I wished for a river, sadly my bag wasn't full of salt.

I look at the hotel, which had opened displacing a school, the parking of the hotel was a ground. I remember an old lady used to grow vegetables here, and we would buy our daily veggies from her, that was around six years ago. I keep walking. I think of school. It was when I was in school, that I would return at this hour. There was always some homework to do, there was the urge to beat your friends at badminton again in the evening, there were some table tennis tricks to learn. I don't know what will I do today on returning home, we have to go shopping for some things, but all depends on mummy's plans for the day.

I see a bus parked near the mangal karyalay, oh another marriage, it was a sleeper coach, looks like the baraatis had traveled from far. I kept walking, the colony which I was crossing, was silent, everyone must be enjoying their afternoon slumber I thought. I pass the school playground, two kids were playing alone, I wondered, do they know what life is, will they think the same when they reach my age?

Aroma of delicious food filled my nostrils, hmmm, caterers at work already! I enter another colony, this one too was drowned in their slumber. A boy lead two young kids, to tuitions, they were carrying theirs bag too.

I reached the road, which connected my colony to the one I just crossed, it was dug up completely. Oh no! No use thinking on this, there were some workers placing some optical fibers. I kept walking, construction had begun in the neighboring plot, another colony was to shoot up. So many years, all we heard were earth movers, drillers, concrete churners, we had a splitting headache earlier, but thanks to the human tendency of adaptability.

I reach my colony, my vehicles parked neatly in the parking. The lift as usual was on rest at the 9th floor. I remember mummy saying, if we had 90 floors in the building, our lift would always be on the 90th floor. I press the button, and move on to check my mail box while the lift crawls, its way down. Oh, the telephone bill!

I enter the lift, press 4 and switch on the fan, counting the floors in my mind. I reach my floor head for my door and press the door bell. Mummy was waiting for me, she opened the door and smiled, I grinned back and screamed 'Paani!' She fetched me a glass of water, while I littered the house by throwing my belongings, as I moved towards the sofa. I sprawled, and quenched my thirst and smiled at mummy thinking 'Yes, just about perfect life!'

She looked at him, her sparkling eyes smiled. He always lost himself in her eyes. She smiled and said, "Yes, I understand everything, now that I have experienced it." He playfully sighed and winked at her, she softly punched him, and both of them laughed. She said "You know what, I feel light, I feel very light." He said, "Yup, I know, you simply complicated things, and burdened yourself." She smiled approvingly and said, "I am such a nut!" He grinned and said "Was!" She giggled and said, "Ya, I was such a nut! I hope I stay this way! I wonder how you do it?" He said "Its easy, just don't do too much of thinking. Thinking is good, but don't overdo it. One important thing, think logically and not emotionally." She said "I guess emotions come bundled with girls, its like 'ek girl ke saath free mein aate hain' " and she laughed. He said "If they are free, you shouldn't feel bad in getting rid of them, after all they don't cost you a thing, rite?" She smiled and nodded approvingly.
They sat there sipping their coffees, and looking at the city passing them by, she thought how she was one of them, running forever, initially she thought, if she has to be in the city, she has to run, its implicit, thats what the world expects from you. Until, he came in her life and clarified things, he taught her to live for herself, she was living for others, who didn't even care about her, and at times didn't even remember her name. She closed her eyes, it was bliss, being in the city and still not being part of the maddening rush, she felt calm and peaceful.
She opened her eyes, and looked at him, he was enjoying the music, she hadn't even realised there were songs playing, she was so engrossed in her thoughts. She cleared her mind, and let the music and coffee fill her senses.
After a while, they left the coffee shop, he held her hand, she looked at their hands, and thought how her hand fitted his so well. On their way back, when they stopped at a signal, she spotted a huge ad, "Tata Safari - RECLAIM YOUR LIFE!"
She smiled.

It was a cold night, she lay awake in her bed, a blanket over her head. It was quite late in the night, may be 1am or even 2am, she didn't care. Tired of tossing and turning in her bed, she just lay flat. She felt drained, drained not physically, not mentally, she just felt that she had lost all the energy that she possessed. She removed the blanket from her face, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

The moonlight filled her room, she turned and looked at the moon rays falling on the floor from the window. She just stared at it, for how long, she herself was unsure. She felt tempted to go outside and stare at the moon, but she had no energy left. She remembered the days, when she would open all the curtains and drag her bed under the moonlight and lie down staring at the moon. Somewhere deep down in her heart she still wanted to do it, but she was puzzled, she couldn't get herself to do it anymore. She stared at the rays falling on the floor, and she realized that the rays which drew a bright rectangle of around 1 feet was reduced to a mere slit of an inch.

She jumped out of her bed, her warm feet pressed against the cold floor, she walked slowly towards the window, and craned her neck to take a glimpse of the moon. But it was too late, the moon hid behind the roof. She looked at her feet, as the last rays slowly disappeared casting her feet in darkness. She slowly walked back to her bed, and her feet turned numb, as they pressed against the cold floor.