The lady at the counter was miffed and overworked .
She was middle aged , and had an expansive midriff , not unlike mine . She too, grunted while bending . She had rivulets of sweat running down her temples . Long snaky queues of men and women waited to send registered parcels and letters , or buy postal stationery .
She got up to weigh someones parcel and had just sat down when a scrawny guy walked up. He held a scrawny envelope , not unlike himself . He didn’t have anyone’s name put down on the sender’s list .
“Bhai ! You’ll need to write your name ”
The bhai stood frozen , rooted , speechless. She repeated her request . No answer. She then , asked him “Got a pen ? Write down your name , mister !”
He swivelled back , to scan crowds around him , as if the question was directed to someone else .
She sighed and pulled a drawer open . Fishing out a ballpen , sans the cap , She asked the guy , “What was your name again?”
A flash of relief crossed over his worried face .
The bhai stood frozen , rooted , speechless. She repeated her request . No answer. She then , asked him “Got a pen ? Write down your name , mister !”
He swivelled back , to scan crowds around him , as if the question was directed to someone else .
She sighed and pulled a drawer open . Fishing out a ballpen , sans the cap , She asked the guy , “What was your name again?”
A flash of relief crossed over his worried face .
Working for years now , the lady could spot an illiterate person , while I thought this guy was a plain idiot , or maybe deaf .
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