“Today, people don’t write letters like they did earlier. Instead sit at their computers and phones to send information to others. The postman doesn’t carry a bag anymore either. He fastens the few letters received, to his bike seat.

Back then, we used to wait ardently, with hearts full of hope, for the news or photograph the postman would bring from a far away loved one. As the postman drew nearer, our anticipation grew until he handed the letter over. We would cross our fingers as we tore the envelope and read the contents about the well-being or other updates our near and dear. Many postmen would wait on their cycle as the letter would be read, to share the sorrow or happiness that came along with it.

But the young generation of this century hardly knows the how priceless a hand-written letter is.

Mere words written on a piece of paper, sealed with a stamp became fond memories. I remember collecting the letters I had written to my father long ago but now they lie only in my heart.”

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