At the Post Office
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I have not been to the Post Office in the last 12 years. But last week, I went with mom and dad. They had invested a little money a while ago, in some postal savings scheme, and my signature was needed in order to redeem it.
My first impression of the interior.
My first impression of the interior.At first I thought nothing had changed at the Post Office - but then I realised the red colour was new. The place was brighter than I remembered. And there were now chairs that you could sit on, while you waited for the files to move. That's Dad, seated, waiting for his cheque.
Mom in the rust colour saree. She's helping the lady in green fill a form in English.A Tamil-speaking lady in green was having trouble with forms. Mom as usual, volunteered to help. I wandered off with the camera, clicking photos. The first thing I noticed was this couple.
They were at the Monthly Income Scheme counter. This is a scheme where you deposit a certain amount, and then you withdraw on a monthly basis. It is popular with retired people - perhaps there was a family elder on whose behalf they were withdrawing.
I sneaked a peek at the man behind another counter. I wondered what his job was. I found out easily enough. His job was to write things in big fat ledgers.
I sneaked a peek at the man behind another counter. I wondered what his job was. I found out easily enough. His job was to write things in big fat ledgers.
The babu and his numbered ledgersIt seemed to me like the dullest job in the world, scribbling little numbers on page after page, book after book. And yet, this is a sought-after job, bringing with it a certain social standing. A man with a steady "go-ment job" has no trouble finding a bride.
I saw the usual board, asking people not to bribe officials.
The green is for inside the country, and the red is for international.If memory serves me right, this is where I used to drop letters to my German pen-pal. I wonder if anyone has-pals these days!
Exterior of post office.I wandered outside the post office gate. The board on the little blue office says, "Harris Michael Koli, Investment Consultant. Please phone on mobile before comming" His spelling, not mine :)
Mr. MoustacheThis man has been a fixture outside the post office for the last 20 years. His job? He is a typist, and he types out legal agreements on stamped paper.
The Parcel Service GuyNext to Mr. Moustache is another counter - this is a Registered Parcel service. You tell the man the address, and give him your parcel. He wraps it in the right sized envelope or packet, seals the package with wax, and fills in the post office Registered Parcel form. All you have to do is take it inside thePost Office and send it off. It's a handy service if you can't read or write, or don't have the right packing material at home.
When I wandered back inside, I found that our cheque was ready. Dad was pleased as punch. We didn't have to wait too long, or fill lengthy forms. The records were computerised, it was easy to check the file and see what was due. It was all very pleasant. I suppose things *have* changed, after all, at the Post Office.
When I wandered back inside, I found that our cheque was ready. Dad was pleased as punch. We didn't have to wait too long, or fill lengthy forms. The records were computerised, it was easy to check the file and see what was due. It was all very pleasant. I suppose things *have* changed, after all, at the Post Office.
