TRUE TO MY WORK

By Savitri Narayanan

Imran moved his bicycle to the left of the road. He pulled out a bunch of letters from his shoulder bag to verify the address.

‘Happy Home Apartments’ said the large signboard at the main gate.

“Where’s the old postman Mahaveer?”, smiled the security guard.

“He’s in Lajpat Nagar now, and here I am still figuring out the areas”, replied Imran and proceeded to deliver the letters.

“Stop by at C Block 12th floor, Flat Number One”, called out the security guard after him, “Madam has some work, I think”.

It was a year and a half ago that Imran had joined the postal services. He was posted in Lajpat Nagar where he worked in various post offices. Imran knew every street and lane there. Following a transfer order, he moved to Defence Colony which was a completely new area to him! During the week he was there, Imran was trying to find his foot, to get to know the place and connect with the residents of his assigned area.

Housing societies bungalows and row houses were familiar but the gated communities also known as apartment complexes were something new to Imran. They consisted of high rise buildings spreading over large enclosed areas. Within the premises there were shops, children’s parks, eateries and even swimming pools!

‘So different from my village in Saharanpur! How would it be to live here!’, he thought as he got out of the lift on the 12th floor and rang the doorbell at house 01.

After a while, the door was opened by an elderly woman. She looked frail but had a cheerful smile.

“You must be the new postman!”, she said more to herself and continued, “Have two letters to be posted by airmail”.
She picked up the letters kept on the  table near the door and passed them on. Imran noticed that both the addresses were in U.S.A.

“For my boys”, she continued the conversation pointing at the photos on the wall, “both are in America!”

“Ok, madam”, he said accepting the cash she gave, “I’ll do it!”
Imran couldn’t stop the question, “Who lives here with you?”
“Me and myself!”, she laughed aloud, “and God of course!”
“You mean, you stay here all alone?”

“Of course not!”, she said emphatically, “So many good people around – friends, neighbours and the staff here too, always ready to help!”
As an afterthought, she added, “And helpful people like you too! Imagine me ambling along looking for a post office! Those like you are God-sent!”
She closed the front door as Imran headed for the lift.
Next afternoon again Imran rang the doorbell and waited.
He imagined the lady on her way to answer the doorbell, with the help of the walking stick. Or she could be napping on the bed.
‘Madam would take her own time’, thought Imran as his thoughts shifted to his own grandmother back home. ‘Ammijaan spent her day in her room, mostly in the bed. She took so long just to turn around and sit up. In the evenings she would be out for a while, in the front verandah. She needed help for that  too.
The front door opened and the lady said, “Sorry to keep you waiting, beta, please don’t mind!”

“Both the letters have been posted, madam!”, said Imran, “Here’re the receipts and here’s the balance amount”.
“God bless you, beta”, she said discreetly putting some cash into his palm, “ You’ve been a great help!”
“It was my duty, madam!”, said Imran, politely returning the cash and turning to leave.
“This is a small token in appreciation of your help!”, she persisted, “Go have an ice cream!”
Imran adjusted his shoulder bag and stood straight. Confidence oozed out of his voice as he said politely, “I did my duty, that’s all, madam and for that I get paid by the government!”
At a loss for words, she continued to look  at Imran in disbelief.
“You’re like my ammijaan, I don’t expect payment when I help her”, he said, “All I seek is your blessings to be honest and true to my work!”
Imran bent down, touched her feet and headed for the lift.
“The world would be a better place with more people like you!”, she said more to herself.

Imran turned back and smiled as the lift door opened.