The postman

Today, I just came back from an errand with my mother. As always, I trudged along the porch after reaching home to close the gate. However, my hands barely touched it when I heard the familiar 'put-put-put' of the postman's motorcycle coming down from the road. I hurriedly swung one side of the gate.

The postman was a Malay man, probably his thirties. There were bags and bundles, big and small, blue and black, all bearing the insignia of 'Pos Malaysia', fastened securely onto the motorcycle. In the gloved hands of the postman was a letter.

'Put-put-put'. The motorcycle stopped in front of the house. The postman held out the letter to me. I smiled shyly as I stretched out my right hand to take it. (My father has always told me that Malays, along with Indians, prefer you receive with your right hand)

The postman smiled back. He said a near-inaudible 'thank you', with his mouth forming a perfect circle and the rode off to deliver another letter.

It was then I discovered I was probably the first person he ever delivered a letter face-to-face with. Alas, I even thought that he was a bogus postman and wanted to close the gate on him! Insecurity, coupled with fear have made this society as cold as ice.