By Kamala Tamang
The red-faced letterbox
Stands deserted
By the edge of a busy road
I often pass by that road
The letterbox used to stand
With a smiling posture
In those bygone days
When it used to solemnly embrace
The letters of my rejoice
Pleasure of others, like mine
Grudges
Complaints
Excuses for a single smile
Happiness of students…
Now-a-days
It stands out there
Cast away
Engulfed in melancholy
Worries
Anxiety
The letterbox
Stands with a faint pale face
Almost insignificant
Some letters
A few government circulars
Transfer and posting orders of some people
Drop in
Occasionally
A hollow sequence
Keeps on repeating itself
As if it’s a mere satire
Upoin the very vacuum of the letterbox
Nevertheless, the history of the letterbox
Is abundantly full of the utilitarian meaning of its being
As it used to stand proudly
In those glorious days
Sometimes, bitter hopelessness
And at times, pages flooded with tears
Every so often, the expectations
On occasions, doses of despair
Now and then, the handkerchiefs of sympathy…
Indeed, I used to visit
The tetterbox
Almost everyday
I used to take eyes
Out of the hope of your letters
And paste them
On the body of the letterbox
Perhaps
That very time has fled away on its wings
Only to land on
Some strange place
Oh!
The poor letterbox
Is a victim
Of the Internet and the social media
The letterbox stands alone
Silently
Bearing the wounds of indifference
Now
(Translated from original Nepali by Raja Puniani)
[Kamala Tamang (b.1975) is an Indian poet, translater, editor and storywrite. An MA in Political Science, she writes in Nepali , Hindi and English. Her published works include Aksharyatra, a collection of poems, besides many other works in isolation. She is the former chairperson of Mirik Municipality and the incumbent chairperson of Janaswastha Margadarshak Samiti, Mirik. She lives in Darjeeling, India, and can be reached at kamalatamang04@gmail.com.]