Swimming through the tides
I took a deep breath as I stood in front of the little black door vexing at the thought of what awaited me on the other side. Deep down somewhere, I knew there was a giant kraken was about to be unleashed, but deferring was not an option — certainly not today; so I took another breath and flicked the keys and the door swung open.
Inside, almost mockingly smiling at me was a colossal dump of paper mail that had accumulated over the course of past month while I was on vacation. It was so huge I could barely even keep half of it in my hands at one time. From catalogs of furniture stores that I have never visited to credit card offers from each and every bank, it was almost comical how everybody just seems to be relentlessly trying to onboard a menial me onto their services. And, boy, aren't they so much committed to this goal that they print out an army of glossy pages every week to send out my way only to spend a few seconds in my hands before being tossed into the bin.
I remember the days in India when my mail boxes would be empty and I used to yearn for someone to pen a letter down to me; how times change: now I yearn for the day when I find that junk box empty. I sometimes imagine how much money, time and millions of precious paper that go down to carry on this ritual; an unfortunate wasted effort which comes knocking everyday at your mailbox unabashedly.
There may be a flurry of sites where you can register and maybe get some respite from the daily churn in your mailboxes, but why have this unwanted clutter being posted in the first place. I am sure we can do something better with the paper that travels all the way to my mailbox only to be discarded the next moment. There several trees turned in their graves.
Of course, I can go on ranting and ranting without doing any good, but maybe I will just leave it for another day. For now, I need to go back to my mail sorting.
Inside, almost mockingly smiling at me was a colossal dump of paper mail that had accumulated over the course of past month while I was on vacation. It was so huge I could barely even keep half of it in my hands at one time. From catalogs of furniture stores that I have never visited to credit card offers from each and every bank, it was almost comical how everybody just seems to be relentlessly trying to onboard a menial me onto their services. And, boy, aren't they so much committed to this goal that they print out an army of glossy pages every week to send out my way only to spend a few seconds in my hands before being tossed into the bin.
I remember the days in India when my mail boxes would be empty and I used to yearn for someone to pen a letter down to me; how times change: now I yearn for the day when I find that junk box empty. I sometimes imagine how much money, time and millions of precious paper that go down to carry on this ritual; an unfortunate wasted effort which comes knocking everyday at your mailbox unabashedly.
There may be a flurry of sites where you can register and maybe get some respite from the daily churn in your mailboxes, but why have this unwanted clutter being posted in the first place. I am sure we can do something better with the paper that travels all the way to my mailbox only to be discarded the next moment. There several trees turned in their graves.
Of course, I can go on ranting and ranting without doing any good, but maybe I will just leave it for another day. For now, I need to go back to my mail sorting.
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