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A Letter to Nowhere



The earthy smell of my sack did not do a very good job of hiding the post office’s odour. I have been inside the sack for certainly longer than I was supposed to be, and nothing can be done about it. After all, I’m just a letter addressed to nowhere. There’s a licence of a fifty-year-old, a greeting from a child who will soon learn about the postal system and many others. For times rooted in the speed of delivery, the oldest method surely is the slowest one.  The sole reason for its survival is its ability to connect dots that aren’t on the revised map, and yet some people do not value these connections.


What are connections anyway? Among the various mates I’ve encountered in this sack do not lie a letter bringing home the return of a hero, or one bringing eternal love. Eternal love is now just calling each other and arguing endlessly about “liking” something. Or at least that’s what I could tell, because my postman hasn’t untied my knots to freedom yet. The place they’ve stacked me smells of things that are not in trend, and of a certain quaintness that has lost its value. And yet, children dread being made to write countless versions of me, and sometimes it reminds them of a friend they’ve lost touch with. 


Here lies my mate, who went on a journey to her home and returned unsuccessful, because the postperson couldn’t find her owner. Whether they couldn’t or wouldn’t is a topic for a whole different discussion, and I cannot attest to that unless I’m let out myself. I hear people laughing, fighting and the endless ringing of the phones, but no one pays attention to us, because we don’t make noise. And in today’s world, I’m told, being unable to make noise means submission. And submission means accepting your fate, come what may.

Maybe my system has submitted to the noises of the modern world. Maybe it's time for a better way of delivery. But I sure know, it's time for me to get out of this sack. At this point, a letter addressed to nowhere has a better ability to convey, than a letter addressed to a person who must be eagerly waiting.

Comments

  1. Harinath10 November 2024 at 08:42

    Oh this one made me think. The thing about eternal love and the line 'submitted to the noises' were so hard to accept that I refused to think but still ended up doing it. Turns out it's true...
    Keep writing!

    ReplyDelete

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