Friday, April 1, 2011

The Letter To Noone

Sometime I think about the Postman.


Who goes on searching letters stamping them and then looking for unknown houses at distant zones and posting them often in the post box or by getting an welcome smile from the host himself.

From very childhood I am fascinated by the person who bring me letters and as then our boundary seem to be a very narrow one..he appeared to me in those days of less globalised world..a person who by walking or through his cycle had seen enough part of the world and can go to those parts where I can never imagine also.

Well..it's a child's fascination..

As the life of a real postman seems boring and hazzled one..but somehow as I grew old the basic spirit for which I like postman..crept in me.

As I have a great thirst too to explore the world.

Meet different people.

And step in different places.



And as I got stationed to far off places due to my work demands..I sometime feel..that somewhere in an invisible postbox..I am also collecting mementos of different addresses..unknown letters..people of various shades..and some traces of lost homes and new spirits..

And obviously I remember about Rabindranath Tagore's 'Postmaster'..when I am too sent off to unknown places..



There are many dissimilarities but somewhere there is an internal similarity..



And it is by these my different strata of thoughts and whims that I started now loving the place where I am.

..This became more true in that night..

It was a night after a couple of days after Holi.

The air still smells gullal or abir..and the spring in all its signs making it's arrival.



And there was suddenly power off.

It seems a long one.

I after my dinner went out for a walk.

The street quite empty.

The shops getting closed.

A very faint moonlight trying to adore the night but soon it lost all its glow..as flocks of clouds came swarming in from no where.

I was still walking.

Some bikes some cycles passed.

And then I stopped before the level crossing.

The crossing is closed as a train must be coming.

Within the total black topography of a power off area only the red signal can be seen like an unperturbed invitation.



At that moment the wind arose..

A fierce wind..

A swarm of dust swept the earth..

Almost making my eyelids closed..

And then a striking blue lightning in the sky..

And within my trembling eyes I saw the red signal now turned yellow..

The train coming..

And then as if by a magic of a great magician..

I found the rain drops..

And the train..

Running in..from distance..

Throught the white light of the train..the rain drops look like silver droplets..

Which were pouring in..

In strings of happiness..



The train came..

Along the rain..

And from somehow in the background..

Someomeoned laughed loud..

Like a cry..

of a Forgotten soul..

Or the sound of an ecstacy..

And then the train passed..

Then sounds came to halt..

Then silence..

Except the soothing drops of rain..which now not in a mood of plunder but of tender touch..

Far across the the shaking leaves..the glowing dimmy candle and hurricane lights in the roadside houses can be seen..

Like trembling lamps..



And what remaining at last..

The fading away light of the gone train..

The soaked wind..

And the whistle of a night bird..



I stood alone there..

Completely wet..

After a while I started walking..within the rain..beneath the cloudy sky..

And as I walked in the rain towards my temporary home..

I realised one truth..

There are two shades of life..

One the real life..

One..the fantasy life..



And somehow the line between the two strata got crossed a moment ago..

And in those fraction of seconds..

I witness..

A moment of creation..

Creativity..in the mood of nature..

and thus I shivered..I trembled..

And as I opened the door of the house..

I found..

Some invisible Postman..

Has kept..an invisible letter..

In my mailbox..



Seated beside the window..as the rain kissed me all over..

I wrote in my diary..



'I am born within the midnight rain..cloud soaked winds..and the fragrance of soil..'!



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1 comment:

mohit said...

Must be an enjoyable read Susanna's Seven Husbands by Ruskin Bond. loved the way you wrote it. I find your review very genuine and orignal, this book is going in by "to read" list.