SUITE 1984 READING CLUB

Postcards From the Edge

Down Nostalgia Lane, Memory Street. Again!

I felt a little out of sorts this morning. When that happens, I usually check in with my to-do list and try to pick something to do, to get my mind out of the funk.

And in case you were wondering, I segregate my to-do list into mini-lists based on the time available to do the task: Five-minute lists, 15-minute lists, you know what I mean.

Also, it was one of those days when our electricity department seemed fidgety and nervous as if its mind was elsewhere and it couldn’t focus. Pretty much like me!

For each hour off, we were getting ten minutes of “on” time. Ah well, who can argue with the government? I did what I do best —I looked at the silver lining. Rather than sit and freak out and let my stress-meter rise steadily, I decided I may as well switch off for a few hours, what with the continuous power cuts.

Today’s silver lining was my cupboard.

Now this cupboard is something I’ve been trying to clear/sort/rearrange for months now. The problem is, each time I get to it, I just end up settling down with one of the boxes of memories — the cupboard is full of them — starting from the ’70s and ’80s mags, decades-old letters and greeting cards, craft work from my son’s playschool days, and much more. See my dilemma?

Resolving not to get pulled into that quicksand of memories that would only end in a cry-fest, I decided to go with an easy-to-tackle shelf that I foolishly assumed would not suck me in.

I say that loosely and without conviction in a famous last-words-ish way.

You see, this wall-length cupboard has kind of super-deep shelves that seem to swallow just about anything we shoved in it. Pretty much like a black hole. Oh, I did “clean” it once in a while and arranged things neatly. But gradually we’d add stuff because it was so easy to store things that did not belong elsewhere here. One layer led to another and before we knew it, it overflowed.

As I said, it was filled with books, my son’s school stuff, art and art materials, boxes of letters, greeting cards, and all kinds of mementos that I cannot even describe.

I mean, what can I tell you about a large guard book from the ’80s, a relic from my days in advertising, with pictures of Jeff Goldblum, Prince, and…and…you know what I mean!

Where do I begin?

I looked at the bookshelf skeptically — books are too addictive. I knew I’d just end up flipping a few pages and then settle down to read the whole book, surrounded by all the stuff I pulled out with the intention of clearing up.

Putting the breaks on that train of thought, I quickly emptied the shelf, then rearranged it back more compactly than before. I know that is not really cleaning, but come on. Then I got to the next one, knowing fully well that I might or might not get past it.

I didn’t.

I picked up a bulky folder with papers, letters, greeting cards, and whatnots spilling out of it. More whatnots than anything else. You know how, those days, those pre-internet days when we had no idea that there would be an internet, how we cut things from magazines and saved them? So many whatnots.

Then we discovered dot matrix printers. Of course, we used the ones at work because we didn't have one at home. I found a huge folder with stacks of jokes, printed from email and email attachments. By the way, they’re good you know. Subtly dirty ones and lots and lots of limericks, one of my favorite poetry forms.

Among these, I found a lot of unused postal stationery. Yep, we hoarded them because — what if the post office ran out of these? 🙄

I couldn’t stop grinning at the postcard — see the image on top? Yes. That’s the one. I remembered those days when our sole means of communication was this postcard — cheap too — with a few lines for the whole world to see — forget privacy and the etiquette of not reading letters meant for someone else.

But imagine the postman getting first dibs at it — and then the nosy neighbors. And then finally the folks it was actually meant for! That’s exactly what happened.

And? Imagine the rest of the family getting to read it before the intended recipient . . . and the interrogation and inquisition that followed — all because the sender just didn’t think of using a more private means of communication —at least an inland cover — that dingy blue blotty sheet of paper that folded and could be sealed and sent off. 👇 And so annoying with people wrote with ink pens — in wet weather, or if the postman spilled water on it, the writing would smudge or disappear.

Back to the privacy issue, though. Of course, very clever and sneaky family members were adept at the art of steaming it open and fixing it right back, as good as new.

A note about the postcards, here.

The postcards were often dreaded missiles. Relatives we did not really want to host would send them ahead of their arrival. We would wickedly think of denying receiving the card — which was quite stupid, since they would land up anyway, and all we got out of it was an unnecessary argument. No telephones at home those days, you see!

Sometimes, the card would arrive after the unwelcome guests had left, as if to rub it in and say, “ha, ha! Gotcha!” which we acknowledged wearily because they had indeed gotcha-ed us!

These cards were usually used for announcements, writing invitations, and quick messages. There were those who used every millimeter of it to squeeze in all they wanted to say and often spilled into the address area.

If it was a wedding or celebration, we gave the corners that yellow hue with wet turmeric, just to indicate it was good news. Oh, postcards were also used to announce deaths and births.

Nevertheless . . .

In spite of all this, we waited eagerly for the postman who sailed around on his bicycle with the bundle of assorted letters in his hand. A registered letter would usually mean an important document. A sealed envelope would be met with much curiosity, by all and sundry the postman came in contact with.

As the postman delivered the neighborhood’s letters, every recipient was curious to see who else was going to receive a letter from him that day and wanted a sneak peek at the “from” address. If he had telegrams or money orders, the curiosity rose exponentially as grist for the gossip mill.

A telegram was simply assumed to bear bad news even without looking inside. A money order? Yay!, But, of course!

Great memories, though. My mom wrote me the best letters and sent the best greeting cards. Oh yes, we were together most of our lives, and yet, she wrote me long loving letters then, and also when we were apart for a couple of months after I got married and before she joined us.

Her letters were full of recipes, advice, snippets of shows we would watch together, news about the neighbors, and of course, loving words reminiscing about something we had experienced together. I treasure those so much.

I remember, those days she was watching The Bold and The Beautiful and Santa Barbara, and I would snip the week’s preview of these shows from the TV guide we got every week and post them to her along with my letters.

Can you believe I found these in the folder I was now drowning in? The snippets were stapled to thick wads of writing paper — my letters.

Even today, I love to find her notes tucked away in the unlikeliest of places, often with a kitchen tip or a quote or some funnies. My eyes — and my heart — fill up at the sight of her beloved handwriting.

Then there are letters from my friends — remember we didn’t have even a telephone at home and had to often rely on our charm with the grocery store owner’s payphone. And loads and loads of greeting cards, mailed or hand-delivered. I hold them close to my heart.

And as I went through the contents of that bulky folder and sighed and smiled and cried a little and put everything right back in it and gently placed it back in the cupboard, I was fine again.

Those were the days eh?

I am glad I lived then…..and I am glad I am here now, in the digital age, when communication is instant with WhatsApp, email, and text messages. Of course, I still rely on India Post to deliver my parcels and letters.

Thank you for reading ❤

Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles ❤ Did you smile today?

Help me support underprivileged children via Ko-Fi. Thank you!