I found him sitting outside a post-office in Avvrehalli, a small village in the district of Ramanagaram, Karnataka, India. In the wee hours, he had come to send a letter to his only son working in the Middle East. It didn't matter to him that he was 2 hours early before the post-office was to open. Illiterate, he usually got his letters written by one of the postal employees. Someone had told him about the recent Arab Revolution and the resultant unrest, and he hadn't heard from his son in a while. For the worried old man, being there as early as 7 am was the only way to hasten things in a world he couldn’t read.