There were a few old white haired ladies chatting with each other…no prices for guessing what they would be speaking about…To avoid too much of my exposure which meant I may become the topic of discussion…I walked as fast as I could towards my apartment. A glance to the post box on the left hand side to check if there was any letter for me…
Subba Rao
1/12, Eswari apartment,
Appaswamy Street,
West Mambalam,
Chennai 33.
Was an address typed on a piece of paper and stuck on an envelope. I picked it up…took a few steps and read the name once again…it read “Subba Rao”…I turned back and placed it next to post box. The few old ladies who were watching me have a topic to speak about I thought and walked towards my Flat No 12.
But, predominantly my thoughts were on Subbaa Rao. The four lines from bottom-up indicated the flat that I lived in. But the name was no were close to mine…and I don’t share my Flat No. 12 with anyone else.
“Well, who is this Subba Rao?”
The Family that stayed before I came here, had no one by the name “Subba Rao”…I heard from one of my neighbors that there was neither a “Subba Rao” in the family that lived a decade ago. I also came to know from my neighbor that these letters for Subba Rao have been in the post box for quite a long time…in fact the neighbor gave a ball-part figure of 5 to 7 years.
“Who the hell is this Subba Rao?”
The illusive Subba Rao…the letter that I picked had some fancy envelop and ICICI inscribed on it. The very fact that this was banking and finance related letter definitely meant he was no kid or someone in the teens…and the 5 to 7 year buffer by my neighbor meant that he was definitely nothing less than 30 years old. And a couple of days later I also found a few letters, open post cards and a few notice from the local Temple indicating few Pooja. Now, those made me guess that this man was not a youth… and definitely meant late forties or even fifties…
“Who on Earth is this Subba Rao?”
Well this man definitely had a lot of plans for his future…most of his letter has an Insurance company’s name on it or a Bank’s. On few occasions, I had the urge to open one of those…what if there was a jackpot? With the amount of letters he gets…there is every possibility that the Indian Postal Service may award him with “Citizen who receives the most letters” or may be a cash award for that.
Every letter of his had a “Subba Rao” printed or written on it…not even a spelling mistake…something like Shuba Rao etc. Which definitely sounded a little younger, a name worth searching for…I meant…to give all the letters back.
Few more months passed by and as usual the post man always carried a lot of letters of the man who was virtual…and never carries a letter for “Gokul Murari”…the existing one. The post man would not carry a letter of mine even when I expected one…but, Subba Rao… invariably had a letter every day.
One of those days, I had to skip office because my body needed some rest…quiet a heavy lunch and slowly dozing away in my bed with my boxers not to mention the Chennai heat…I head the door bell. I was a little irritated…had to quickly pull on a shorts and a t-shirt to attend the door. By that time I heard the bell once again…which sounded like someone blew a horn right into my ears. I did not want the third one…I opened the door quickly…“Sir Courier” said a man with touch pad asking me to sign on it…I quickly felt the letter in my hand as if my fingers can see through it to find what was in the cover…The man handed a weird pen to sign on the touch pad…I was about to sign and I heard the courier man say “Sir…show ID sir…you Subba Rao?”
Not only with those letters through the Indian Postal Service… Subba Rao has started to haunt me by using the courier’s service as well…
“Oh Heavens!!! Who is this Subba Rao?”
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