Swami and Friends at the Malgudi Post Office

Swami and Friends at the Malgudi Post Office

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In Malgudi, a small town in Southern India, there was a post office. Every morning, when I woke up, I would find a man and a woman sitting on a bench. The man was Swami, and he wore a shiny cap that looked too new. His clothes were filthy and ripped. here are the findings The woman, whom I didn’t know at first, was Radha, and she wore a colorful sari with little flowers around her neck. Swami would sit there with his head on his hands and his feet on the

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My childhood in Malgudi was special, with Swami at the Post Office. Swami had a large white statue in the entrance. Everyone who crossed the Malgudi Post Office could see Swami sitting on a high pedestal with his arms folded, waiting for his supper. Whenever anyone wanted to purchase a stamp, they went to Swami and he would bring out a fresh-baked muffin from his cupboard and sit at his feet. When he was not in the office, he would greet people at the Post Office gate.

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Most of us have fond memories of the Malgudi Post Office. You’ll remember your school reports there, the flicks you watched and the conversations you had there. But what about the times when the Post Office was crowded? If you have children, you know how the little ones often stand in long queues, waiting to have their letters or packages sent. My parents would love to visit the Post Office, but the queues were always too long, and they couldn’t take me with them because of their hectic schedules.

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The Malgudi Post Office is where my family lived, and it was one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen. The street was surrounded by a garden of mango trees, banana trees, and fig trees. The garden was like an oasis in a land of monotony. The air was fresh and cool. There was a stream nearby, and during the monsoon season, it was a source of drinking water for people who lived there. Above the garden was a towering tree that had once been a part of an old fort. The towering tree

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Swami and friends went to the Malgudi Post Office every morning. It was a small and dirty building where the post office and the telegraph office worked side by side. The telegraph office was located at the entrance, on the ground floor. Every post office has a single room, where the mail and packages are received, and where the customer can collect their letters, and other mail. The post office was connected to the police station, the fire station, the doctors’ office, the school, and even the cinema hall. Malgudi was one of the densely populated

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As a young child, I used to spend most of my time playing at Malgudi Post Office. The postal bull and his friends used to chase the children while we filled up the letters, stamps and parcels. We would play with the letters to make them longer, and then mail them to our friends, parents and schoolmates, and it would be an exhilarating experience. It was like a secret playground for kids in the neighborhood. At the Post Office, we would find different sets of stamps, each bearing a different name of

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Whenever my friend and I met up at the Malgudi Post Office, it was always a heartwarming experience. We always had so much to share, and each time, we shared our stories. Swami was always there to hear our tales. Swami was the Malgudi Post Master, but we always called him “Mr. Swami”. Swami was a man with a heart full of love and care. He would listen to our tales with a gentle smile on his face. He would say words of encouragement, and they always gave us wings.