‘Look at this Ma, isn’t this card cool? The boy on the cover looks just like me! Look at the spiky hair do, so much like mine and don’t miss the bike. Oh, Nanu, you know me so well! Mum, mum, look at Nanu’s hand writing, she wishes me, ‘Happy Birthday’ and says I’m the best brother! This card makes me so happy; can I display it on my table, Ma?’
So here is my son’s elation at the receipt of a ‘Snail Mail’ and he’s of the present generation! The sparkle in his eyes can actually light up his room. The picture, the handwriting, the touch and feel of the card has strengthened the brother sister affection in a way modern day electronic mails can’t.
This takes me back to my days of yore when I spent hours at ‘Archie’s Gallery’ trying to make the right pick. Everything mattered; the words, photo, size, colour, shape and the price. So much of the time that is spent so sparingingly these days was given to the details that finally led to the process of decision making.Every card on the display shelf was a piece of art and that, to be honest made choosing difficult. Often I wondered at the amount of time spent at getting every detail in place, the creativity caught my attention most of all.Out of all the varieties, my favourite were the Blue Mountain Cards with poems by Amanda Bradley. It always happened that the words in print were the words of my heart, just what I wanted to say!
I still recall the emotions experienced when I received these cards; the joyful and sad tear shed, the silent laughter, the peace or even the disturbance! And,just like my son, I would pull them out and read them over and over again. Then,they would be neatly stored in the ‘secret hideout’ section of my cabinet that I delved into in my quiet time.
Christmas being the season of hope and goodwill, I limited my selection to either ‘CRY’ or ‘UNICEF’. Then was the time when focus was given to charity. Today these greetings are exchanged through the net but those were days of the ‘snail mail’. After the selection and the buying came the 'writing your own message' and then the trip to the post office, where you bought the stamps, struggled to glue with the post offices’ tailor-made glue that only messed your hands and envelope, the writing of the address and finally dropping them in the right boxes.My home town post office had two letter boxes; the red one was for letters to be delivered within the country and the green for the ones to be sent abroad. It was a whole day affair but every part was as enjoyable and worthwhile. It didn’t end there though! The next step was anticipation of the receivers reaction through his/her reply which depended on where he/she was located. During the times when you were lucky the reply came within a week and when not it was waiting for a fortnight or even a month. Sometimes, you just waited hopelessly and anticipation remained anticipation. However, there was no giving in, the cycle continued, the card shops were where I'd spend my pocket money and time.
Then all too suddenly the ‘Age of the Mouse’ dawned. I woke up to ‘blaring technology’ and today everything is a ‘click’. Emotions find vent on the screen of the ‘Laptop’ and I’m but a humble servant of the gizmo.My words are far too measured and sparse.It's the time of brevity and I have to go with the flow!
