When i used to come to my village in Kerala for summer holidays the postman came once daily around 3 .30 pm .
it was a long distance that he had to walk most family houses had huge grounds around them .
In our house the distance from main path now road in that area was around 800 meters he had to jump two wooden erections to prevent wandering grazing cattle and one big open gate,he had to pass alongside the green pond with a roofed room ,and laden mango and jackfruit trees heavy with fruit along the way .
But walking was what he was born for, and he would clutch his cloth bag full of letters which mean so much to so many .
His long umbrella usually hanging from his shoulders other than during rain .
Seeing him from far in rains under the big umbrella dripping in the pouring rain i cannot do justice in words ,
i should have been an artist, a caricutarist to do a sketch .
During my internship it was courting days with premila who was in chennai ,with no mobiles letters were the only solace .
At times he would just hand over some unintresting missives and walk off making one face the prospect of waiting another day to see him .
Usually he also chatted with me asked me usual malayalee question when did you come when are you going back
The malayalee wants such information in minutae after all he cant have the non usuals lingering for long .
And then he would walk back briskly like a cowboy riding into the sunset in a western .
