Friday, March 12

My weekend thoughts....

Glory comes wrapped in the ordinary:
a spider web, wearing the morning's dew
a mistake, reflected upon and learned from
an autum tree letting go of her leaves
a spring tree putting leaves on again
a wound, embraced and understood.

** Verses from 'a tree full of angels' by Macrina Wiederkehr.

The Wicked Postman

Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me, mother dear?
The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all wet, and you don’t mint it.
Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother to come home from school. What happened to you that you look so strange? Haven’t you got a letter from father today?

I saw the postman bringing letters in his bag for almost everybody in the town.
Only, father’s letters he keeps to read himself. I am sure the postman is a wicked man.
But don’t be unhappy about that, mother dear. Tomorrow is market day in the next village. You ask you maid to buy some pen and papers.

I myself will write all father’s letters; you will not find a single mistake.
I shall write from A right up to K. But, mother, why do you smile?
You don’t believe that I can write as nicely as father does!
But I shall rule my paper carefully, and write all the letters beautifully big.
When I finish my writing, do you think I shall be so foolish as father and drop it into the horrid postman’s bag?
I shall bring it to you myself without waiting, and letter by letter help you read my writing.
I know the postman does not like to give you the really nice letters.

**‘The Wicked Postman’ is by Tagore (from Crescent Moon). Tagore once said, “And when my voice is silent in death, My song will speak in your living heart”.

The Miniature stamp ‘Rabindranath Tagore’s Dakghar and the special Airmail cards (published during the World Philatelic Exhibition) are from my philatelic collections. Very rarely has India produced Airmail cards. Hence, they are special. ***