The Postcards of Ceylon
The story recounts the author’s childhood fascination with Christmas cards, sparked by Brother Ignatius’s tradition. Inspired, young Denzil embarks on creating his own postcards with the help of Brother Patrick at De La Salle Printing Press. The story highlights Denzil’s desire to capture moments and forge connections through these personalised cards. Ultimately, the postcards become a symbol of shared experiences, echoing the legacy of the Christian brothers and extending greetings beyond geographical boundaries.
Inthe sun-drenched corridors of St. Joseph’s Juvenate, where teenagers’ laughter echoed, young twelve-year-old Denzil stumbled upon a peculiar fascination — one that would shape his destiny. It was the tradition of sending Christmas cards, a practice that transcended mere greetings and became a canvas for the soul.
Denzil watched Brother Ignatius, a sprightly Christian brother with ink-stained fingers, bent over a wooden desk. The preprinted lines on the postcards whispered goodwill: “Season’s Greetings.” Each card bore Brother Ignatius’s name and address — an invisible thread connecting distant friends across oceans.
What magic lay within those postcards? Was it the ink, the paper, the pre-printed sender’s name and address, or the whispered secrets they carried? Denzil’s wide eyes followed Brother Ignatius as he signed and stamped each one, sending them fluttering like birds, bearing tidings of joy.
During the holidays, Denzil received a postcard — preprinted and personally signed by Brother Ignatius. Denzil turned the postcard upside down, examining it from every angle, mesmerized by the creativity and simplicity of this mass mailing and design.
Two years later, Denzil stood before Brother Patrick, the kind custodian of De La Salle Printing Press in the bustling city. His voice trembled as he made his request. “Brother, may I create my own postcards?”
Brother Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Why, Denzil?”
“Because” Denzil replied, “I want to capture moments — moments that defy time and distance, just like Brother Ignatius’s cards.”
The manager studied the boy. “Very well,” he said, amused. “Gather your coins, young artist.”
Denzil scrounged every cent, purchasing twenty-five postcards from the local post office. Each card, five cents each, held promise — the blank canvas of connection. He presented them to Brother Patrick, who nodded gravely. “We’ll make them special,” he promised.
The printing press hummed to life, its rhythmic heartbeat mirroring Denzil’s excitement. Soon, he cradled a stack of crisp postcards, their edges kissed by Christmas red. His neatly printed name whispered of belonging, and the holly logo anchored them to the season.
Denzil sent them out, one by one, copying addresses from his worn notebook. His words flowed like monsoon rain, filling the blank spaces. And when replies arrived — each card bearing a piece of someone else’s heart — he knew he’d woven a tapestry of connections.
In the quiet of his room, Denzil traced the embossed letters. “Season’s Greetings,” they said, echoing Brother Ignatius and Brother Patrick’s legacy. And as the Ceylon sun dipped below the horizon, he whispered, “May our postcards bridge oceans, like love letters to the world.”
