‘Amma, post!’

CHENNAI : Outside the post office in Ambattur, just as Manikandan M gets back on his cycle, I stop him for a chat. He is dressed in khaki, with a black sling bag around his shoulder and a cycle basket filled with letters. I realise I’m not the only one to spot him from across the street. A flower vendor, a woman carrying groceries, a man on the first floor of a building next to us, all call out to him enquiring if there’s a letter for them. “They know I arrive at this time, and even if they’re not expecting a post, most people here wish me, and ask if I have anything for them,” says Manikandan. 

He used to work in a school in Villupuram, until two years back when he cleared his Post Officers Recruitment exam, and was posted in the city. He rented a place with other postmen in Vinayakapuram, and arrives at the head post office sharp at 8 am. “We are about 20 of us in this zone, and we spend two hours in the morning sorting letters, money orders, and other posts,” he explains. And these are the busiest hours in any post office — as letters are first segregated area-wise, followed by street, and then the house. 

N Ravi, postman, Avadi Head Post Office, tells me a long list of door numbers and names that he learnt by heart in just three months. And S Sivakumar, who has been a postman for 13 years in the area, shares that this job was a real test of memory because it’s only now that door numbers are mentioned outside houses. “Name boards at the entrance of streets were not there before, and there were no phone numbers to call in case we couldn’t find a house,” he explains. 

After one round of delivery, they get back to the office at around 4 pm, and sometimes go on a second round. “That is to deliver accountable posts, orders, and packages — and they’re can be tracked so we’re careful about them,” shares Sivakumar, as he admits that in the middle of his stack, he looks out for hand-written postcards, which excite him the most. Over the last two decades, they’ve actively observed changes in communication, modes of transaction, and transport.

And yet for postmen like Sivakumar and Ravi, and for G Bharathi, a postwoman who takes a two-hour train to work every day, it is the cycle that marks who they are. Bharathi says, “When I got a postwoman’s job seven years back, my husband used to cycle as I sat behind him, holding the posts in my hand and delivering them. But more responsibilities came our way as our son was growing up.” So, her husband, who runs a leather unit in her village, decided to manage home while Bharathi was away. 

“That meant I had to ride the cycle. And I was very hesitant at first, unsure if I had the stamina. But today, I wouldn’t exchange it for a scooter or anything else, because the cycle is the easiest way to move in the city for a postman or woman,” shares Bharathi. As she rushes to catch her evening train she tells me that she needs to get home by 8 pm, so she can help her son with homework before they go to bed. 

Bharathi, and other postmen at her designation make about `30,000 a month; while Branch Post Masters (BPM) in remote areas around earn `11,000. Kuppusamy P, who worked as a BPM for about 35 years in a village near Arakkonam, says, “I was given my father’s postman job after his death. And even though a BPM doesn’t earn as much as a postman in the city, the respect postmen in the village received stays in my mind. People would look at us like god was arriving in a cycle,” he laughs. 

Kuppusamy will retire from service in a year and worries that there will be no pension to support him during his old age. Sivakumar explains that postmen and women at the lower ranks have very few perks, and they have been demanding pension, which was initially promised to all employees who cleared the exam before 2004. “All struggles aside, I’ll continue being a postman, because when I’m on my cycle delivering letters, I’m not just a government servant. Just like there’s excitement in receiving a post, there’s a pride in delivering it too,” shares Sivakumar.