After passing the Secondary Examination, I Was appointed as a Postman. I was posted in a village named Sitapur in Orissa. My place of posting is about two miles away from my house. Everyday I attend office in a bicycle and distribute letters, money orders or parcels to the recipients of about five small villages within the jurisdiction of our Sitapur Post Office.
Ten years have passed. Meanwhile, I got married and have become the father of a son. I lost my parents long ago. I have no relation who might write a letter to me some day. For the last ten years, I have been delivering letters to hundreds of people, but not a single letter came in my name that could be stamped with the postal seal, and placed into the Postman’s bag for delivery.
Sometimes, I feel if I had even some distant relative or a friend, who suddenly thought of my existence on this earth, and mercifully wrote a few soothing words in a simple letter to me, even spelling my name, may be, wrongly, and writing my address with incomplete code number, still I could make out the addressee and there would not have been any difficulty to deliver the letter to the proper person, that is me.
But the pity in my life of a postman is that I earn my bread by delivering letters to others, and no one writes to me. I am really an unfortunate, friendless unknown, a forgotten lonely fellow on this vast earth, who has never received a postal letter in his life.