Three or four months ago, a friend of mine received a letter by post. As it is normally the case, the sender had used a five rupee stamp on it’s envelop since it was a closed letter.
Someone noticed that the post office had missed to put a seal on top of the stamp. I was very happy to see that (?). I carefully removed the stamp and put it in my pocket, thinking that I could use it in future.
Six days later, I had to send some other closed letter to an office. I remembered that I had a reusable five rupee stamp in my pocket. I took the stamp out and was about to paste it on my letter cover. Suddenly, something stopped me. It was a strange sort of fear, a fear that made me think that the letter would not reach its destination, because it is going to bear a ‘sinful’ five rupee stamp. I tried defining my fear and could not think beyond a ‘sinful’ stamp, rather mind.
The stamp is still there with me, and it makes me sad every time I see it. It reminds me that I could not do a ‘wrong’ thing because I feared a consequence and not because it was wrong.