Swetha Banda

I stepped into the post office and I travelled back by 15 years in time. The ancient ceiling fans, the wooden furniture, the banyan tree just outside, the low doors and high ceilings, it was right out of the champak, tinkle and gokulam world. The postmen in their khakhi coats were all sitting around a big wooden table on their wooden benches and were sorting out the letters. Their bicycles were parked under the banyan tree.  It was such a different scene from the plush corporate, air conditioned, thickly carpeted, glass offices where you get greeted with a fake "How may I help you?". This actually felt real, like something you would immediately associate with a typical Indian scene. Laughing postmen, gossiping women, some old retired men standing in queue, and absolutely no youngsters in sight. This took me back to the time when I was a little girl with big dreams. I used to wait for the postman to make his daily rounds every afternoon, hoping that he would have something for...