Passage II

Bombay Parcel Post

[1]

Recently, while visiting a friend in the bustling city of Bombay, India, I discovered that mailing a package could be a very complicated, and instructive, process. I had bought some souvenirs there that I wanted to send home. My friend, a young man who had lived in Bombay his entire life except a few years spent studying in the United States, if he were to walk with me to the post office.

[2]

Merchants of all types were selling piles of cut sugarcane, colorfully dyed cloth, metal kitchen utensils, as well as many items I could not identify. By pulling carts, oxen were amidst the automobile traffic. Men on bicycle rickshaws jingled bells to attract business and warn other drivers of their presence. People crowded the narrow streets, conversing, carrying on business, or just sitting and watching the passing scene. (19)

[3]

[1] We stopped outside the front gate of the large governmental post office of some size, and my friend showed me what to do. [2] We walked up to a line of workers, who were waiting patiently along a fence. [3] She carefully cut a piece of cotton cloth from a large bolt of the material. [4] She wrapped the package in it—a perfect fit! [5] I handed my package which I wanted to mail, to the first person in line. (23)

[4]

The man next to her took my package and carefully sewed the edges of the cloth with thick, black thread. (24) My package was then passed to the next person in line, who with equal care, he sealed its edges with small circles of melted red wax, which quickly hardened in place. When the bundle was prepared, I took it inside to the mail counter, where it was weighed, stamped, and sent on its way. (26)

[5]

The cost of this entire process was very reasonable, and it took over an hour. During that time, as I talked to the workers—with my friend's help—in Hindi. One man returned my interest, and said, to me, "We will teach you how to do this if you wish. I am sure that with a little practice you could learn." (30) I gratefully declined.