A message to me, ... after a long time
I don't think I like this word 'modernization'. It has with its tide submerged all the beauties of the past, letters being one. How I wished to open the red cylindrical post box hoping 'If I could get a letter from it'. It was desirable thing to see others receiving letters and reading it, then posting a reply. I actually used to wonder how a letter with a stamp on it could travel to distant places. When I could write something sensible, I enjoyed writing letters and posting it as much as receiving it. I would imagine the sender of writing it with care, each word carrying their effort and sincerity. I have chits from my father when I was in 7th or 8th standards. They are stored in my box given when I joined in Yadhi LSS (then), a boarding school. I even received a letter from him during my first year at Sherubtse College. He mentioned about how a son of Dzongkha language teacher should behave and also about keeping my hair short. I felt that the le