Show-box??

I have lately decided to pick up writing letters as a hobby. Also, i have found enough people who are willing to be at the receiving end of my letters. India post will be glad that a bunch of youngsters are ready to indulge in this activity-more at the cost of their time and  thoughts than money.
As i was glowing with enthusiasm on receiving letters(yes, more than one) this Monday, i decided to halt all productive office activity and started jotting down a reply. Sandyman stared at me, while i was writing down my letter. I told him that i didnt have a table back home and wanted to finish it at office wonly. Sandyman continued staring, fearing that i was writing down a suicide note, and this was my excuse for self-destruction once everyone has vacated the office-space. Luckily for him, i was done with my reply before 7 and he was the proud witness to my departure from office, although i'm pretty sure he was disappointed that i did not have any suicidal intentions. I mean, that would've created some excitement at office huh!
So, anyway-i was done replying, and i neatly sealed and stamped the envelope.
My tech-park happens to have a lone post box at the entrance. Dangling from a pole, i've never seen anyone use it though. I approached it apprehensively, and did not see a 'Clearing time' mentioned on it. It did have the logo and 'India Post' painted on it. I muttered a silent prayer, and pushed the envelope down the throat of the box. I made a mental note to check with the security guard office about whether the Postal authorities even remember to collect the post from this rather dusty box.
Come evening, and i walk home and i stop by at the entrance to enquire about the fate of my letter. I first approached a lady.
I decided to try English first.

" You see the Post box there. Have you seen the postal authorities come for the letters in it? "

" That post box. Madam, it is only for show... " 


" Whatttt??? So, who has the keys to the box then? I posted a letter in the morning and i want it back "
( I spent almost 2 hours on that reply, and i was not going to let a show-postbox swallow up my thoughts! I was going to make it throw up my letter at any cost. My desperate attempt"

"Madam, i dont know. "


" Is there anybody else i can talk to?? "

She timidly points me two other security guards in uniforms with a different color combination. I'm hoping the change is color means, that they might have the key to the show-postbox..

I repeat my lines to them, and they are dumbstruck that there is a postbox idling on a pole, right under their nose.

" Which post box madam ?? " 


Oh honestly! These are security guards?? Even an intern-terrorist can sneak a bomb inside !!

After they are introduced to the existence of a post box neighbour, this lady starts discussing the matter in Kannada. Its always nice to know that you can talk to a fellow Blorean in Kannada. I repeat my tale of woe in Kannada, and the lady is all smiles for a minute and then she gives me the same shit about the postbox being a showpiece.

By now, i'm even willing to break the lock and retrieve my letter!!

And then, this dark faced gentleman enters , with a uniform in a third set of color-combination ( at this rate, there will be a Manyata Security Premier League!!! ), enters and asks me what the matter is. I unfold my tale again, in Kannada, and he says just 3 words.

" Tagond hodru madam" . 


I have no clue if the postal authorities truly visit this post box. Or maybe they do it secretly like Santa and his reindeer. Only one way to find out. And they say, Patience, is a virtue...