The article on the postman in the Open Page (March 6) took me down memory lane. The postman of our area, Mastan, was more or less like Tanappa of R.K. Narayan's The Missing Mail .
He delivered good news immediately and prepared the recipients of sad news before conveying it to them. He helped people write letters. He usually rang his bicycle bell outside the houses of those who had mails. He was a typical Indian postman, part and parcel of every household.
Narasimham Ammu,
Samalkot
My mind goes back to the 1940s. My brother was in the army and was posted on the war front somewhere in Burma. The British government had provided a field post office number. We could post our letters to that number with no stamp, superscribing “Free - on active service.” He could also write to us free of cost. The letters used to reach us in about a week's time. Our postman used to deliver them telling our father “your son has returned.” He thus relieved us of our anxiety.
I want to place on record the efficiency of the postal service even during the difficult war times.
R. Natarajan,
Chennai
The khaki-clad postman became a part of all families in a locality. Whenever my grandmother used to lament that she had not received a letter from her daughters in a long time, my grandfather used to say: “If there are no letters, take it that all is well.”
The weekly letters I wrote from my hostel during college and from my far-flung posts in the Army were prized possessions of my mother for many years. The expectation of a letter and its final arrival can only be experienced, as was the case when I was selected to join the Military Academy.
Lt Col R.V.S. Mani (retd.),
Chennai
