Society

Chengalpattu Chengalvaroyan

Just note how Bertie Wooster, Gussie Fink Nottle, even the inimitable Jeeves sent telegrams on the slightest pretext.

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Chengalpattu Chengalvaroyan
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Sorrow. Despair. I know all good things in life must end but the Telegraph department? It had been around for 160 years but will disappear from July. I have been tapping away at the Chennai telegraph office for nearly 40 years, having snazzled a job after my sslc. The event was celebrated at home with a vada-payasam feast, for a central government job was the highest one could aim at. When I set out for work on the first day, a callow lad all of 18, my grandfather told me to be loyal to my job, as I would draw pension from the day I retired. What more could one ask for? I walked with my head high and did not mind being called ‘Thanthi (telegram) Chengu’. Marriage proposals arrived in plenty. Finally, when I got married some of the women whose daughters I had turned down sniffed and snapped: “It is all for the good. I don’t want my daughter to marry someone who always brought bad news!”

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Yes, over 40 years I have handled every aspect of the department–sent, received, and delivered telegrams, walking or bic­ycling long distances on many occasions. The cto gates were open all the time. By and large, telegrams were dreaded, seen as harbingers of ill tidings. But I delivered ones that ann­ounced new arrivals in families, news about job interviews, settlement of marriages. Ironically, not all bad news caused sorrow, sometimes telegrams bringing bad news gladdened hea­­rts. I remember a Mylapore doctor, tearing open the envelope and letting out an ‘whoopee...’ because it ann­ounced the death of his mother-in-law. But the long-suffering doctor wouldn’t believe his luck, he questioned the veracity of the text and the need (if any) for a recheck. After I convinced him with some difficulty, he offered me sweets and filter coffee!

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Telegrams never got their due. They were only used for emergencies and people hardly bothered about the language. As an avid reader, I can point out how writers like Wodehouse frequently made complimentary references to telegrams. Just note how Bertie Wooster, Gussie Fink Nottle, even the inimitable Jeeves sent telegrams on the slightest pretext. They were intoxicating: ‘Bertie, you ass, why don’t you reply to my earlier telegrams? Are you as usual as drunk as an owl? Make haste and come or you shall have a friend’s curse on your head’. Now that is what I call a telegram; Indians are much less imaginative.

Now the telegram’s glory road has come to an end, as telephones, cellphones, fax, e-mail and other tech rubbish made us obsolete. We were always the unlucky ones. Take Hindi or Tamil films. The hero often pla­­yed the role of the village postman and wooed village belles by reading out letters for them. The telegraph messenger had no such chance. All he had was a strip of paper which read ‘Grandfather died may his soul rest in peace’. How can a man romance his girl on such meagre stuff? Occasionally, we came into our own. During world wars, generals communicated through telegrams and espionage novels were written based on messages borne by us. The world should remember us kindly.

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The Mumbai-based satirist is the creator of ‘Trishanku’; E-mail your secret diarist: vgangadhar70 AT gmail.com

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