Saturday- last day of the week. You have an exam. You fumble and tumble over it and you are glad that it's over. Summer is here and a long, sultry day is here to stay.
Slowly, you push yourself to the nearest bus transit station and wait for a bus. An empty bus pulls over. You prefer to wait. 20 minutes later, you are still there. A bus not in sight. 'Dei, such an idiot you are!', you tell yourself.
Annoyed, you look at the sun that's beating down. It hurts your eyes and you quickly turn your head. And then you see her. You forget the self-loathing session you just finished. Just when sunlight seems to make you go haywire, you sense some hay under the sunshine.
The next ten minutes spent for a bus will be worth a wait, you think. You turn again. And a lady stands next to her, swooping down on the eyes surrounding her. 'Tchah!', you tell yourself and silently criticise the Indian society's textbook behaviour. Before you ridicule the society further, the empty bus also turns up. Your limbs move towards the bus while you want to stay back. You eventually take the bus.
And you turn back to look for an empty seat. None! But wait, there is the seat and there sits the girl. You decide to bequeath a seat and stand in the bus. You praise coincidence. Just then, an old man makes you sit next to him, blurring the coincidence away.
Thirty minutes go by when you want to turn back, see if she has left, see if she is still there. Oh, just to catch a glimpse. Now, the bus gets crowded and you feel like hitting yourself on the iron bar that is motionless near you.
Destination has almost arrived and the bus, still crowded, earns my wrath. The bus slows down and a passenger shouts at you for the foot massage I gave him. You smile and almost get down. You are almost pushed down. But you turn back and see if she still is there. Instead, you see her looking at you and smiling. Paradise!
#Story
The Letter Diplomacy
Gone are the days when people waited for letters from their dear and near. Technology has turned the people cynical and efficient in equally skewed proportions. While the generation gone by has a story to tell of how letters and posts made their life simple and valuable, the current generation is legitimately vocal of how e-mails, phones and chats have turned their lives upside down.
Letters of Gandhiji to Hitler, Jawaharlal Nehru to Indira Priyadarshini are cases in point of how people resorted to politically correct, carefully worded exchange of ideas and deep sense of perspective. Writing letters, replying to them were ubiquitous and a wonderful experience. People resorted to telegrams for formal and instant communication. The people at the telegraph office used to heave a sigh of relief in January and July because the „no marriage‟ season meant fewer telegrams wishing newly-wed couples! Many regretted not having another page in the Inland cover to write.
Now, with instant communication, one can sense a lack of thought and more fearfully, a lack of consistency. The expressive, explosive language has given way for curtness and brevity. And according to the NAEP [National Assessment of Educational Progress], more than 60 percent of middle and high school students scored below the "proficient" level in reading achievement. The results of speed and better access to literature (thanks to Google) have come at a heavier price- lack of depth and flair. The scenario is not very optimistic and the technology overkill might kill literacy.
Letter writing has become a lost art in the era of templates. The wait for wordy replies, appointment orders stretching weeks and in some cases, even years have been replaced by cold impatience and a lack of faith.
The only people who value the essence of writing letters are too old to write or their recipients are lost to time. Has this sorry culture permeated into literature- novels and poems? Time will tell. Has quick relief of communiqué served the eviction notice to sensibility and tranquility? The answer remains lost to the mundane thoughts that transcend on hot summer afternoons.
Having acknowledged that we are in a highway of no return, no one can know it better than the postmen- from a man who was thanked for cycling home good news to many lives, he is now a widely loathed man, a thankless job he wears with a bag of junk mails, discount coupons and credit card bills over his shoulders.
Edit 1: I found a post similar to my post here: http://laughing-listening-learning.blogspot.in/2011/07/finding-god-within-written-letters.html
Letters of Gandhiji to Hitler, Jawaharlal Nehru to Indira Priyadarshini are cases in point of how people resorted to politically correct, carefully worded exchange of ideas and deep sense of perspective. Writing letters, replying to them were ubiquitous and a wonderful experience. People resorted to telegrams for formal and instant communication. The people at the telegraph office used to heave a sigh of relief in January and July because the „no marriage‟ season meant fewer telegrams wishing newly-wed couples! Many regretted not having another page in the Inland cover to write.
Now, with instant communication, one can sense a lack of thought and more fearfully, a lack of consistency. The expressive, explosive language has given way for curtness and brevity. And according to the NAEP [National Assessment of Educational Progress], more than 60 percent of middle and high school students scored below the "proficient" level in reading achievement. The results of speed and better access to literature (thanks to Google) have come at a heavier price- lack of depth and flair. The scenario is not very optimistic and the technology overkill might kill literacy.
Letter writing has become a lost art in the era of templates. The wait for wordy replies, appointment orders stretching weeks and in some cases, even years have been replaced by cold impatience and a lack of faith.
The only people who value the essence of writing letters are too old to write or their recipients are lost to time. Has this sorry culture permeated into literature- novels and poems? Time will tell. Has quick relief of communiqué served the eviction notice to sensibility and tranquility? The answer remains lost to the mundane thoughts that transcend on hot summer afternoons.
Having acknowledged that we are in a highway of no return, no one can know it better than the postmen- from a man who was thanked for cycling home good news to many lives, he is now a widely loathed man, a thankless job he wears with a bag of junk mails, discount coupons and credit card bills over his shoulders.
Edit 1: I found a post similar to my post here: http://laughing-listening-learning.blogspot.in/2011/07/finding-god-within-written-letters.html
