Arpita Chakrabarty

large_All_the_women_of_Badoli_Sera_Gunth.width-1400.jpg

medium_All_the_women_of_Badoli_Sera_Gunth.width-1400.jpg

small_All_the_women_of_Badoli_Sera_Gunth.width-1400.jpg

thumbnail_All_the_women_of_Badoli_Sera_Gunth.width-1400.jpg

All_the_women_of_Badoli_Sera_Gunth.width-1400.jpg

When Mohan Chandra Joshi’s younger brother was selected for the Indian Army some months ago, he immediately asked an acquaintance in Almora post office to hold back the letter of recruitment. “Don’t send it to our home,”  he said. Mohan Chandra was not trying to block his sibling’s joining the army. He was just worried the letter might reach late or not at all. That often happens  to the villagers of  Bhanoli Gunth in Pithoragarh, Uttarakhand. Their  nearest post office is in another district.
 
 “Many people here have lost jobs because the interview letters reached too late. Often, the postman delivers the mail days after the interview date is past. In a remote place like this, where there are no jobs, who can afford to lose such a letter, that too for a government placement?” asks Mohan Chandra, his eyes doing most of the talking.
 
 Mohan went to the general post office in Almora, 70 kilometres away, to collect the letter in person. “Yes, I know we shouldn’t be picking them up from the post office. The postmen are supposed to deliver them at our homes. But we can’t afford such a luxury. If we don’t collect letters ourselves, it could take a month to receive them (if they’re delivered at all). By which time my brother’s joining date in the army would have passed,” he says.
 
 Mohan Chandra and a few others are talking to us at a teashop at Bhanoli Gunth (also called Bhanoli Sera) in Pithoragarh district of Uttarakhand.  As many as five other villages share its postal fate – letters coming in late or not at all. These are Sera Urf Badoli, Sartola, Chauna Patal,  Naili. And also the similar-sounding but different Badoli Sera Gunth.

These villages are located on the border of Almora and Pithoragarh districts. A border marked by the iron bridge at Seraghat over the Sarayu river. While all six of them fall in Gangolihaat block of Pithoragarh, their post office lies on the other side of the bridge. That is, five kilometres away in Bhasiyacchana block of Almora district. Mail from there takes 10 days to arrive, while a letter from the headquarters of their own district could take up to a month. “Such an irony,” Madan Singh says, holding a cup of tea. “They still don’t accept us as a part of Pithoragarh district. It’s like we stay here, but our address is in Almora.”Fully 56 years after Pithoragarh was carved out of it as a separate district, the 2,003 residents of these villages and hamlets still can’t untie themselves from Almora, which they once called home. They are 70 kilometres away from the district headquarters of the latter – but 130 kilometres from that of Pithoragarh.  Bhasiyacchana in Almora remains the nearest post office.In 2014, the address of the villagers on the new Aadhaar cards appeared as Post Office Bhasiyacchana, Pithoragarh. “When we complained, this was corrected and the cards were sent to the post office in Ganai, 12 kilometres away. But no postman comes to our village from there. The only one who delivers our letters comes from Bhasiyacchana – on the other side of the bridge. We had to go to Ganai to collect our Aadhaar cards, though,” says Chandan Singh Nubal, a resident of Sartola village.

Diptytch_3.jpg

In Badoli Sera Gunth, the situation is more poignant. It is a small village of just around 14 families. The residents are mainly women and older men. And we’re talking to a row of 10 – all the women there are in that village. Their sons and husbands are away, working  in bigger towns and cities like Almora, Haldwani, Pithoragarh, Lucknow or even Dehradun. They return once a year, but send money home  nearly every month. “Money orders also reach us late. Even when we need cash urgently, we just have to wait for the postman to arrive with the order,” says Kamla Devi, a farmer and resident here. Niuliya says the villagers complained to the superintendent of the general post office at  Pithoragarh, many times, but no action followed. “Once the Berinag post office conducted a survey, but their team did not visit all the villages,” says Niuliya. “We have no drinking water, no employment and appalling postal services. Who would like to stay back in our village?” Some years ago, there were 22 families in Badoli Sera. Today, several abandoned traditional Kumaoni houses here and in Sartola village stand in testimony to the enormous ordeal of daily life. When this writer reported this problem in The Times of India , Dehradun (December 17, 2015), the Uttarakhand Human Rights Commission (UHRC) took suo moto cognizance of the news report the same day. It ordered the district administrations of Pithoragarh and Almora to submit a factual report after sending a proposal to the postmaster general, Dehradun, to resolve the issue. “It has been more than 50 years since the district was carved,” said the rights body. The administration, it said, should have redressed these grievances a long time ago. The report signed by Hemlata Dhaundiyal, member of the commission, added, “Pithoragarh is a border district of not only the state but of the nation and people are living in very remote areas and their connectivity is only through the post office. Hence, their rights cannot be denied.”

Her septuagenarian neighbour Parvati Devi can barely walk but has to visit the Ganai post office to collect her widow’s pension of Rs 800. Poor health ensures she can’t make the trip every month though she badly needs the money. So she goes just once in three months – with two other old women. “It takes 30 rupees by jeep to reach Ganai. If I spend 60 rupees every month only to collect my pension, how much will I be left with?” says Parvati Devi. At her age, she is used to receiving letters and money orders quite late and is very tolerant of the department of posts. Others, though, are impatient. “When a letter travels in seconds over the internet, why should we wait a month to receive it at home?”  asks Suresh Chandra Niuliya, a retired government official. “It’s impossible to go to all these places every day,” says Meharbaan Singh, the Bhasiyacchana-based postman for these six villages. Some of them have no roads, and it’s a daily walk of 10-12 kilometres back and forth. Singh, 46, has been a postman since 2002. “I visit each of them once a week,” he says.Singh begins his work at 7 a.m. every morning – from home. “By noon, I reach the post office after distributing the letters. I wait there till 3 p.m. for the afternoon posts to arrive. I collect the new mail and leave for my residence.” He takes the mail home since he starts his long walks three hours before the post office opens at 10 a.m.  For quite some time,  he was the only postman of the Bhasiyacchana office. Which meant delivering the mail of 16 villages. Only recently did another staffer  join here, reducing Singh’s workload.

Maps_list_diptych_2.jpg

At the first hearing held by the UHRC on May 3, 2016, Pithoragarh post office superintendent G.C. Bhatt claimed the villagers had never brought this problem before him earlier. “A new branch post office will be opened in Badoli Sera Gunth soon,” he said. The rights body ordered the postmaster general, Dehradun, to resolve the problem as soon as possible, failing which it warned of action. A little more than a month later, an approval letter was sent to Pithoragarh general post office. And so a new branch post office will be opened in Badoli Sera Gunth by June 30,  2016. Two jobs – postmaster and postman – have also been approved.Meharbaan Singh is happy since he believes that, from now on, there won’t be undue delays, “One of Bhasiyacchana’s two postmen will deliver letters in these six villages till a new man joins,” he smiles, with a bag full of letters on his shoulders.Mohan Chandra,  Madan Singh, Niuliya and Kamla Devi are happy too, that a new post office will be opened soon just to cater to their villages. But they are also anxious, lest the new declaration becomes like other government plans: announced, but not acted on.

Bridge_postman_diptych_1.jpg

The last post – and a bridge too far

ਦੇਰੀ ਨਾਲ ਪਹੁੰਚਦੀ ਡਾਕ ਅਤੇ ਖੁੰਝਦੇ ਹੋਏ ਮੌਕੇ

ಅಂತಿಮ ಕರೆ – ಸೇತುವೆ ಬಹು ದೂರ

ଶେଷ ଶିବିର-ଏବଂ ବହୁ ଦୂରରେ ଏକ ପୋଲ

शेवटचं पोस्ट आणि दूरवरचा पूल!

آخری ڈاک اور دور اُفتادہ پُل

শেষ ডাক – এবং বহুদূরের সেতু

অন্তিম ডাকঘৰটো--আৰু বহু দূৰৈৰ এখন দলং

கடிதங்கள் கடக்க மறந்த கிராமம்

Pithoragarh

At present, we can only accept donations in Indian rupees by Indian citizens. All donations made to the CounterMedia Trust are eligible for exemption under Section 80G of the Income Tax Act, 1961. Here is a copy of our exemption certificate.


India is bigger than New Delhi. And people need to know more about the rest of this vast nation.


Younger, media-saturated generations are growing up knowing little about their country, but a lot about the elites of a few metros and towns. For a narrowly-owned, commercially-driven media, the dumbing down of a nation is part of standard operating procedure. The last available data of the Centre for Media Studies (CMS, Delhi) show us that reports from New Delhi account for 66 per cent of news on the front pages of major dailies. The CMS data also found that just about 0.24 per cent of front page news came out of rural India. The TV channels are not much better.PARI exists to change that.We are a non-profit organisation. We publish under creative commons, and do not charge readers a subscription fee or put-up advertisements. Nothing is behind a paywall and we are completely free-to-access by anyone. We guard our independence and receive no direct grants from governments and corporations, nor any funding that could dictate our content. So, we are dependent on volunteer labour, donations from individuals, foundations and institutions that see value in independent and free media.PARI is changing the way Indian journalism reports and documents the rural.India is more than the elite of a few metros and towns. We report on rural lives and livelihoods, languages, communities, migrants and more. We need your help to pull off this most ambitious of Indian journalistic endeavours. The scale of this effort costs money. Donate generously - and spread the word about PARI.&nbsp;

Donate FAQs


Let’s get you acquainted

Welcome to PARI

All our content is, and will forever be free to consume. If you enjoy our work, you can support us by becoming a volunteer or by donating to help fund our work.

Want to republish this article? Please write to <a href="mailto:zahra@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">zahra@ruralindiaonline.org</a> with a cc to <a href="mailto:namita@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">namita@ruralindiaonline.org</a>

IN TELUGU - Want to republish this article? Please write to <a href="mailto:zahra@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">zahra@ruralindiaonline.org</a> with a cc to <a href="mailto:namita@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">namita@ruralindiaonline.org</a>

The last post – and a bridge too far

Some villagers in Pithoragarh, Uttarakhand, have to wait up to a month for their mail, if it is delivered at all

Related stories

A rain-scented walk in Sivagangai

Living on ravaged land

Biswas and the bamboos on his bike

Recycling energy, Godda style

Bhadels of Goa

Pookadai: still throbbing with morning life

Koli Kadlas

Malnourishment high among children of migrants: study

Wheels of the rural Indian West

Living Under a Red Cloud in Bellary

Vedla – earrings of the Maher community

Dreaming of water, drowning in debt

Kali: the dancer and his dreams

Farmer's diet worse than a convict's

In Yavatmal, life goes on

Suicides are about the living, not the dead

Death of a carpenter

Hoisa Shigmo!

Women farmers: weaving a life in Anantapur

Defiant in Dhinkia

Spice and all that's nice

Kerala's Green Army

The ‘jugaad’ not-a-mobile

Health as someone else's wealth

Calibrating in a Kudumbashree assembly unit