Class 9 English Chapter 7: Carrier of Words

A rural postal servant of India Post. Where road, rail and telephone all stop, a GDS is the last remaining link between a settlement and the rest of the country.

A far-flung hamlet of the Rajasthan desert. The lesson uses the word to convey that these are not villages in the usual sense but scattered handfuls of households.

The regulation weight of a GDS mailbag. The limit exists because the bag is carried on a shoulder across sand, not loaded onto a vehicle.

Inauspicious news. By custom it may not be carried across a threshold, which is why the delivery happens outside the house and the letter is destroyed afterwards.

What a GDS becomes once phone lines arrive: he then carries a cell phone along with the post, from home to home.

His territory lies 120 km beyond the last railhead at Barmer, 50 km beyond the last telephone, and 10 km beyond the point where the Barmer–Chohtan road crumbles into sand too soft for even a bicycle to ply. It stops 2.5 km short of the Indo-Pakistan border. The four are listed together because each marks the place where some other service gave up — rail, then telephone, then road. Read as a set they are not a boast about distance but a statement of absence: by the time Khetaram's footprints appear, he is the only thing still arriving.

Because 50 degrees would oblige the state to declare a holiday, so the figure written down stops just short of it, although his body sends blazing signals that the heat has crossed fifty. The reading is therefore not a measurement of the desert but a decision about it: the heat is identical whichever number is entered, and what changes is only the obligation that follows. The person who bears the consequence is the man walking twenty kilometres through it.

The envelope has its right corner torn off, so he knows before arriving. Since Ashubh Samachar cannot be carried into the house, he stands outside, reads the letter aloud twice, and then tears it to bits, saying that bad news must be destroyed. The second reading shows the most about him. A household hearing such news for the first time takes in nothing of the letter, so the repetition is when the family actually hears what has happened — and nobody has instructed him to do it. It is a kindness worked out over years of standing at doorways.

He says that water is too precious to waste on washing, so he can only wipe himself, and that when he finishes there is a sand dune at his feet every evening. The remark measures two quite separate things in one sentence. It records how much sand a day's walking deposits on one man, which is the visible half; and it records what a quantity of water is worth in that place, which is the half he does not state. He is not complaining about dirt — he is explaining why he cannot wash it off.

Because he can dwell on any threshold and everyone in the village feels comfortable asking him, although his hand is slightly shaky. It is a different trust from the trust placed in a delivery service because both tasks go inside the family. A letter read aloud makes a household's private business audible to the reader, and a reply written for somebody consists of that person's own words in another man's handwriting. Neither is possible unless he is treated, in effect, as a member of every household on his round.

It ends with Khetaram saying Main tayyar hoon — I'm ready — and striding off with his sack to deliver Panna Devi's dak before sundown. The choice is deliberate. A lesson about hardship could have closed on the fifty-degree days or on the torn envelope, and either would have left the reader with pity. Ending instead on a man who has just been told his job may change, who says he is ready, and who leaves at once because there is a delivery to be made, closes on his own attitude to the work rather than on the reader's.

The conditions are stated as facts and figures, and each one carries an argument.

The distances. Barmer has the last railhead, and his round begins 120 km past it. The last telephone is 50 km behind him, and 10 km further on the Barmer–Chohtan road gives out in sand too soft for a bicycle. The Indo-Pakistan border lies 2.5 km ahead of where he stops. Each number marks the failure of a different service, so the set makes him the last thing still arriving.

The load. Regulations stipulate that his bag cannot exceed 28 kilos, and the impression of his footprints often reveals its weight. A single delivery can mean covering 20 km, which is why he says even one is tiring. The sand records what the paperwork specifies.

The heat. He delivers on days when his body signals that the temperature has crossed 50 degrees Celsius, but the figure recorded is 49.9, since fifty would require a state holiday. This is the sharpest detail in the lesson. The desert is unaffected by which number is written down; what the number decides is whether anybody is obliged to stop. Severe heat does sometimes force him to postpone deliveries until after sundown — so the work is delayed rather than cancelled.

The sand. A khaki turban and uniform are his only protection against scorching winds and sandstorms that make him caked from head to foot. Water is far too dear to spend on washing, so he wipes himself, and a dune stands at his feet every evening. The sentence measures both the sand and the price of water.

The relay. Mail comes off the train, onto buses, and then onto his shoulders, reaching the border within 24 hours of dispatch from Jodhpur 330 km away. A network with trains in it still finishes on a man's back.

What the details share is a method. The lesson never says the work is hard; it gives the reader a number, a rule or a sentence of his, and lets the conclusion follow.

The relationship goes far past delivery, and the lesson builds it detail by detail.

He can dwell on any threshold — stay a while at any doorway. He reads letters out and writes replies in a slightly shaky hand, and everyone feels comfortable asking him to do both. This is worth separating from his official duty. A letter read aloud puts a family's private business into a stranger's voice; a reply written on somebody's behalf consists of that person's own words in another man's handwriting. Neither is possible unless the village treats him as something close to a household member, and both are given to him freely.

What he receives in return is small and exact. The BSF always gives him a lift, and since their camp arrived he gets a cup of tea when he distributes their dak. A lump of jaggery is the whole of what the village can give him for bringing word of a birth or a wedding. The jaggery is the measure of the place: it is given for good news, it is all there is, and it is given anyway.

The hardest part of the relationship is the letter he dreads. An envelope with its right corner torn off bears news of death, so he knows what he is carrying before anybody has read a word, and he carries that knowledge across the last stretch of desert by himself. Ashubh Samachar cannot be taken into the house, so he stands outside, reads the letter twice, and then tears it to bits.

The second reading is the whole portrait. A household hearing such news once takes in nothing of the letter, and the repetition is when the family actually hears it. He was not told to do this, and the custom about the threshold would have let him leave the envelope and walk away.

That is why the proposal to hand his work to somebody else was rejected. What he does is not carrying, and cannot be transferred with the bag.

The year rural delivery agents were accepted as Gramin Dak Sewaks. The work had not changed; its recognition had.

GDS selection requires that the candidate have access to another means of livelihood. It is the condition that makes a five-hour post with an assured income workable.

The range within which mail is delivered. India Post's post-independence mandate was to bring the entire population inside it, which is a different aim from serving administrative centres.

A small sum of money sent through the post. In the lesson's desert, survival for each family is partly dependent on money orders remitted by a relative.

A village record keeper. A scheme to transfer GDS work to patwaris was proposed and summarily rejected.

In 2001, India's three lakh plus rural delivery agents were accepted as Gramin Dak Sewaks, who now constitute more than half of India Post's total workforce. What did not change was the work itself: the walking, the sand, the bag and the round were the same before and after. The distinction matters because it shows that the reform was one of recognition and of terms rather than of duties. A man doing precisely what he had always done became something else on paper, and with the new designation came the conditions on which the post is now held.

The essential criterion is access to another means of livelihood — the candidate must already have some other way of making a living in that area. From it follow the three conditions: they are required to work only five hours in a day; they are permitted to stay on past 60 and up to 65; and they are paid a salary so as to have an assured income. None of the three is a favour. Each is what makes a part-time post viable for a man who is also feeding himself some other way.

Because the places concerned cannot support ordinary employment. A remote outpost does not generate enough work for a full-time postal salary, and a full-time salary by itself would not persuade an outsider to settle where Khetaram lives. The conditions therefore work backwards from the geography: find somebody who already has a livelihood in the area, give him five hours of work and an income he can count on, and the outpost stays staffed. A regular postman's terms, applied there, would leave the post vacant.

The British postal system in India was set up to relay company dak between administrative centres, so it existed to connect an administration to itself. What India Post was charged with after independence was getting every last person within reach of the mail — ambit meaning range — which is a wholly different undertaking. The figures make the change visible: 25,000 post offices in 1947, and more than a lakh and a half today. A whole population cannot be brought within range of anything without building where nobody had built before.

The first is a dependence: in no other country is a person in remote villages so reliant on the post office for the transmission of small sums of money. The second is a confidence: this reflects the absolute confidence most Indians place in the post office. The confidence is much the harder of the two. A dependence can be created merely by there being no alternative, and proves nothing about the service. Confidence means people handing over cash they cannot afford to lose to a system they cannot audit — and that is earned delivery by delivery.

It was summarily rejected because, as the village elder Budh Singh said, they knew the patwaris would not be able to do the job — not for want of legs but because the work is not walking. It is reading a family their own letter, writing their reply, standing at a doorway with news of a death, and being trusted with a household's private business. The rejection is strong evidence because it cost something. The Postmaster-General calling the role invaluable is praise, and praise is free; refusing a scheme drawn up presumably to save money is a judgement somebody paid for.

What it is. Until 2001 men like Khetaram were known as delivery agents, working in country districts with neither schools nor a primary health centre. Since then India's three lakh and more delivery agents have been accepted as Gramin Dak Sewaks, and they now constitute more than 50 per cent of India Post's total workforce. The work did not change with the name — the round, the sand and the bag were the same — but the recognition did, and with it the terms.

Where it operates. GDS territories include Ladakh's frozen desert, the islands of Lakshadweep and the river settlements of the north-east. Ice, sea and river have nothing in common except the one thing the Postmaster-General names: these are interior areas often inaccessible by any means besides foot. That is why he calls the role invaluable.

On what terms. The essential criterion for selection is access to another means of livelihood. From that single requirement the rest follows. A GDS is required to work only five hours a day; he is allowed to serve after 60, till 65; and he is paid a salary so as to have an assured income. A regular postman's pay is revised as other government employees' pay is, and these conditions are deliberately different.

Why they are different. Only by applying such conditions, a postmaster explains, could so large a workforce be retained to serve remote outposts. The logic runs backwards from the geography. An outpost does not generate enough work for a full-time salary, and a full-time salary would not by itself induce anybody to settle there. So the post is built around a man who is already in place, giving him limited hours and an income he can count on.

What it means to the man. Khetaram's appointment gave him a new lease of life. Famine is a way of life there; in a good year he gets one crop of bajra, which cannot feed a family of five. They would starve without this job. That is why he is grateful to serve past sixty rather than relieved to stop.

A change of purpose first. The British postal system in India was set up to relay company dak between administrative centres. What India Post was charged with after independence was getting every last person within reach of the mail. The figures record the shift: 25,000 post offices in 1947, and more than a lakh and a half today. One system connected an administration to itself; the other set out to connect everybody.

Savings. Through the GDS, India Post reached savers in the villages, who hand what they put by each month to their local post office. Every post office in the country holds many operational accounts, and the lesson says plainly what that reflects — the people's trust in the postal system. Where there are no banks, the post office is where money is kept.

Money orders. For each family in country as dry as that, getting by rests partly on the money a relative sends home. Mulk Raj Anand, in Story of the Indian Post Office, made the point that villagers far from any town had nothing else to send money through, and that their willingness to do so showed how completely Indians trusted the service.

Those are two separate claims. A dependence can be produced simply by an absence of alternatives. A confidence cannot: it means handing over cash one cannot afford to lose, to a system one cannot audit, and it is earned delivery by delivery.

The proposal. A plan put up some years back would have done away with the GDS and handed the work to the patwaris, the village record keepers; it was thrown out at once. We knew they would not be able to do the job, said Budh Singh, a village elder.

Why it failed. Not because a patwari cannot walk. Because the work is not walking. It is reading a family their own letter, writing their reply in your own hand, standing at a doorway with news of a death and reading it twice before destroying it. Those things attach to Khetaram after fifteen years, not to the post, and cannot be handed over with the bag.

And that rejection is the lesson's strongest evidence for the role's worth, because it cost something. Praise is free; a refused saving is not.

The repetition of an initial sound across neighbouring words. Here the s of scorching, summer and swirling sandstorms imitates the hiss of the wind it describes.

A comparison that states an identity rather than a likeness. The sandstorms turn Khetaram into a walking sandman — he becomes one, not merely resembles one.

Has or have plus the past participle. One form doing seven distinct jobs, from a finished action with a present result to a stretch of time still running.

A construction in which the subject receives the action. The mail is delivered by the GDS at the border — the mail, not the postman, is now the subject.

A short letter to someone who has lost a relative. It says how sorry the writer is and offers prayers for the family's strength.

The alliteration lies in scorching summer winds and swirling sandstorms, where the s is repeated across neighbouring words, and khaki echoes the opening of Khetaram's own name. It contributes sound: wind over sand hisses, and so does the line, so the reader hears what he is walking through. The metaphor lies in the storms turning him into a walking sandman. It contributes identity rather than likeness, since nothing in the sentence says like or as — and it is close to literal, because a dune stands at his feet every evening.

Because it asks what each word suggests in the context of the chapter rather than what it means in general. Arid is paired with farmland without much yield, concessional with an interest rate for farmers, gaunt with a farmer waiting for the rains, remote with a corner of the world, and desolate with a desert stretching far and wide. The pairing for gaunt shows the difference most clearly: the word ordinarily describes a thin face. A student who only knows that meaning cannot make the connection to a man watching the sky.

The structure is has or have plus the past participle, the third form of the verb. The seven examples teach that one structure performs seven distinct jobs, and that nothing in the form itself tells you which. The jobs are a present result, a recent completion, a life experience, an accomplishment, a change over time, repeated actions, and an impact continuing into the present. Have eaten means just now in one sentence and many times over years in another, and the difference is carried entirely by just, ever, many times and for six years.

It removes the person and leaves the requirement. You will need a lot of stamina addresses one nephew on one occasion; a lot of stamina will be needed states a condition of the work itself, true of anybody who takes it. That is precisely why official writing prefers the passive, since a rule that names nobody applies to everybody. The coldness comes from the same move: the sentence that makes the advice universal also takes the uncle out of it, so what was one man speaking to his nephew becomes a notice.

The occasion is Indian Postal Day. The postal department will add interactive demonstrations, and the carnival will include letter posting and philately. India Post is famous for the most extensive network in the world, and letter writing is being revived because the art form has been forgotten. The speaker closes with a request rather than a suggestion or advice, and the choice matters because the three place the listener differently. A suggestion leaves them entirely free, advice puts the speaker above them, and a request asks for something while leaving the decision where it was.

Because the five points allowed — utility, cost, privacy, space to write and the possibility of enclosures — are chosen so that no article scores on all of them. A postcard is cheap and offers no privacy at all; an envelope offers privacy and takes enclosures but costs more; a money order form does something none of the others can do. Since nobody can sweep the criteria, no speaker can simply assert superiority. Each has to concede a point and win another, which is what turns four declarations into a discussion.

The present perfect. The structure is given first: has or have plus the past participle, the third form of the verb. Then seven sentences are set against seven functions. She has found her book is a finished action with a present result. I have just eaten a mango is a recently completed action. Have you ever seen a play before? asks about a life experience. I have finished my project records an accomplishment. Ajay has become a good bowler in five years describes a change over time. I have seen this book many times covers multiple actions at different moments. And I have studied here for six years is an action begun in the past whose impact continues in the present. The table is the teaching, not the form. One structure is doing seven quite different jobs, and nothing in the shape of the verb tells a reader which is meant. Have eaten means just now in one sentence and many times over years in another; the distinction is carried by just, ever, many times and for six years. A student who memorises only has or have plus the third form has the shape and none of the sense, which is why the exercise ends with a connected paragraph about a stamp collection where several functions occur together. The passive. The contrast is stated plainly: in GDS delivers the mail at the border the subject does the action, and in The mail is delivered by the GDS at the border the subject receives it. The object of the first sentence has become the subject of the second, which is the whole of the change — adding by the GDS to an active sentence accomplishes nothing. The task then applies it. Khetaram's nephew asks how to prepare for the job and is given four pieces of advice in the second person. These are to be rewritten as a connected paragraph, with the first step worked out: First of all, the work will ask a great deal of your stamina.

What the rewriting does is more interesting than the drill. You will need stamina addresses one nephew on one occasion. Stamina will be needed states a condition of the work, true of anybody who takes it. The passive removes the person and leaves the requirement — which is exactly why official writing uses it, since a rule that names nobody applies to everybody. It is also why the passive can sound cold, because the same change takes the uncle out of the sentence.

Listening. A girl speaks about an event, and the questions are answered as the recording is heard. The occasion is Indian Postal Day. India Post is famous for having the most extensive network in the world. Letter writing is being revived because the art form has been forgotten. The carnival will include letter posting and philately, and the postal department will add interactive demonstrations. She concludes her talk with a request.

That last answer is the sharpest item in the set, because the three options — suggestion, request, advice — are not about content at all. They are about the relation between speaker and listener. A suggestion leaves the listener free; advice places the speaker above them; a request asks for something and leaves the decision where it was. The task trains a listener to hear an attitude rather than a fact.

Speaking. The postcard, the inland letter, the envelope and the money order form discuss which of them is the most important, one student taking each. They may argue on utility, cost effectiveness, privacy, space to write and the possibility of enclosures, and they are given verbal cues to express opinion.

The five points are chosen so that nobody can sweep them. A postcard is cheap and offers no privacy; an envelope offers privacy and enclosures but costs more; a money order form does what none of the others can. Since no article wins outright, each speaker must concede a point and win another, which is what makes it a discussion rather than four declarations. The cues matter too: That's one way to look at it, but… is a disagreement that does not insult, and a student holding that phrase can contradict somebody without the conversation collapsing.

Writing. A condolence message communicates the writer's feelings to someone whose relative or close friend has died. It mentions how sorry the writer feels and offers prayers for strength to the family. The model is dated, opens Dear Bhawar Bhai, says the writer is deeply saddened, asks that condolences be accepted, extends sympathy in the hour of grief, prays for peace for the departed and courage for the family, and closes Yours sincerely.

Its brevity is the lesson. What it leaves out — news, questions, requests, plans — is what proves the writer was thinking of nothing else, which is the one thing such a message exists to demonstrate. Students then draft one on behalf of their parents to an aunt whose father has died.

His territory lies 120 km beyond the last railhead at Barmer, 50 km beyond the last telephone, and 10 km beyond the point where the Barmer–Chohtan road crumbles into sand too soft for even a bicycle to ply. It stops 2.5 km short of the Indo-Pakistan border. The four are listed together because each marks the place where some other service gave up — rail, then telephone, then road. Read as a set they are not a boast about distance but a statement of absence: by the time Khetaram's footprints appear, he is the only thing still arriving.

Because 50 degrees would oblige the state to declare a holiday, so the figure written down stops just short of it, although his body sends blazing signals that the heat has crossed fifty. The reading is therefore not a measurement of the desert but a decision about it: the heat is identical whichever number is entered, and what changes is only the obligation that follows. The person who bears the consequence is the man walking twenty kilometres through it.

The envelope has its right corner torn off, so he knows before arriving. Since Ashubh Samachar cannot be carried into the house, he stands outside, reads the letter aloud twice, and then tears it to bits, saying that bad news must be destroyed. The second reading shows the most about him. A household hearing such news for the first time takes in nothing of the letter, so the repetition is when the family actually hears what has happened — and nobody has instructed him to do it. It is a kindness worked out over years of standing at doorways.

In 2001, India's three lakh plus rural delivery agents were accepted as Gramin Dak Sewaks, who now constitute more than half of India Post's total workforce. What did not change was the work itself: the walking, the sand, the bag and the round were the same before and after. The distinction matters because it shows that the reform was one of recognition and of terms rather than of duties. A man doing precisely what he had always done became something else on paper, and with the new designation came the conditions on which the post is now held.

The essential criterion is access to another means of livelihood — the candidate must already have some other way of making a living in that area. From it follow the three conditions: they are required to work only five hours in a day; they are permitted to stay on past 60 and up to 65; and they are paid a salary so as to have an assured income. None of the three is a favour. Each is what makes a part-time post viable for a man who is also feeding himself some other way.

Because the places concerned cannot support ordinary employment. A remote outpost does not generate enough work for a full-time postal salary, and a full-time salary by itself would not persuade an outsider to settle where Khetaram lives. The conditions therefore work backwards from the geography: find somebody who already has a livelihood in the area, give him five hours of work and an income he can count on, and the outpost stays staffed. A regular postman's terms, applied there, would leave the post vacant.

The alliteration lies in scorching summer winds and swirling sandstorms, where the s is repeated across neighbouring words, and khaki echoes the opening of Khetaram's own name. It contributes sound: wind over sand hisses, and so does the line, so the reader hears what he is walking through. The metaphor lies in the storms turning him into a walking sandman. It contributes identity rather than likeness, since nothing in the sentence says like or as — and it is close to literal, because a dune stands at his feet every evening.

Because it asks what each word suggests in the context of the chapter rather than what it means in general. Arid is paired with farmland without much yield, concessional with an interest rate for farmers, gaunt with a farmer waiting for the rains, remote with a corner of the world, and desolate with a desert stretching far and wide. The pairing for gaunt shows the difference most clearly: the word ordinarily describes a thin face. A student who only knows that meaning cannot make the connection to a man watching the sky.

The structure is has or have plus the past participle, the third form of the verb. The seven examples teach that one structure performs seven distinct jobs, and that nothing in the form itself tells you which. The jobs are a present result, a recent completion, a life experience, an accomplishment, a change over time, repeated actions, and an impact continuing into the present. Have eaten means just now in one sentence and many times over years in another, and the difference is carried entirely by just, ever, many times and for six years.