the post office in Jaiselmer

Dealing with the post office back in Jaiselmer (a couple of weeks ago now) was not unlike getting the train ticket in Delhi, although on a somewhat smaller, mellower scale. First, of course, I showed up with my three packages to mail back home on Saturday (they were open until 5) at about 3:30 pm. However, despite being open, they'd stopped handling packages at 3; so I had to come back Monday between 10am and 3pm.

Alright, showed up Monday at the appropriate time, things were looking pretty good, only a couple of other people in line. But of course, they took a while. And, as I was standing there with about a two foot space between myself and the guy in front, another guy came up and stood sort of nonchalantly slightly off to the side and ahead of me, clearly planning to cut in line. I told him that I was in line. He sort of grunted and nodded, but kept standing there. Then he scooched up ahead a little more. I gestured my thumb over my shoulder, telling him he should go behind me, but he ignored me again. Considering there was only one guy ahead of me at that point, I decided to let it go this time.

Shortly after the guy in front had finished up, and the line-cutter squeezed his way up to the counter ahead of me, another guy came up behind me. Again I was about two feet behind the guy now in front. But the person behind me pointed to the space and said in English, "You must move up, or someone cuts in front of you." "Move where?" I said, or something to that effect. "Do I have to climb on top of the guy in front, to make it clear I'm standing in line and not just hanging out here for the fun of it?" I didn't move up any more, for hopefully obvious reasons, but resolved to be more insistent with any future line violators.

I made it to the counter, and of course was then given a form to fill out for each of my 3 packages, which then kicked me back out of the line. I filled out the forms, got back in line and moved forward until I was next in line. More people showed up and things got a little more tense. Two guys were trying to squeeze in on either side. But this time I had my packages up on the counter already, plus my elbow, as I'd squeezed up myself on one side.

Finally, with papers in hand, I was at the counter. The guy at the desk had other things to do, however. He put on his glasses, and I noticed that one of the lenses still had a sticker right in the middle of the lens, that obviously came with the glasses, but he hadn't taken it off yet. This didn't seem to bother him as he busied himself with some paperwork. But it bothered me. I kept wanting to reach forward, grab his glasses and take the sticker off for him. Finally, after another five minutes or so of my holding the line at bay, he took off his glasses and looked up at me. I waved the forms.

"Okay, you come inside," he said, because of the packages being mailed abroad. He pointed down to a door that entered into the inside area behind the counter. I walked down there with my packages and went through the door, then walked up to the same guy, behind him. He then went back to doing more paperwork. At this point, I was thinking to myself, "Great, now how many damn people in line is he going to help, before he turns around and deals with these packages?" The line was getting increasingly boisterous as more people showed up.

Miraculously, after a few minutes he turned around and gestured at my handful of packages, completely unfazed by the rowdy line pressing up against the counter. I handed him the smallest one, an envelope (sewn up in cloth, as required) with about 15 photos in it, and that's all. He put it on the scale, plugged in the destination, and then announced, "380 rupees." And then added, "by sea mail".

"What??" I said loudly. "That's impossible."

The reason being, I'd sent another package a month before that included a heavy jacket and a few other things, which had cost about the same, by air mail. It cost 8 rupees to send a postcard from India to the U.S. The photos were roughly the same size as a postcard. In other words, it would be way cheaper for me to send each of the photos separately, only 120 rupees altogether.

He looked at the computer and pointed at the screen, where it said 380 rupees, which I'd already seen. I again protested adamantly that something was wrong and explained having mailed a much larger package just recently, by air, for the same price. His English was a little too limited at that point, so he called over another guy from a different desk. I explained to him how this couldn't possibly be right. He looked at the computer, spoke with the other guy in Hindi (or maybe something else), they sort of scratched their chins, argued back and forth a bit, and punched assorted keys on the computer. Finally, the first guy said to me, "56 rupees, air mail."

"Now that's more like it," I said.

We proceeded through the other two packages, one medium-sized and one bigger one that I sent sea mail. This took at least another 15-20 minutes, and I was acutely aware of how impatient everyone in the line was getting; but at the same time glad as heck I wasn't stuck standing in it. Finally we got all the packages processed and stuck with their appropriate mailing labels, and I paid, 1,225 rupees in total. Then I looked up at the first person in line, a big Sikh guy with a dark beard and a turban, and said a little sheepishly, "Sorry, thanks for waiting." He just bobbled his head and smiled.