The March of the Unsung
(In honour of the Gramin Dak Sevaks of India Post)
Bruhaspati Samal
General Secretary
Confederation of Central Govt Employees and Workers
Odisha State CoC
He climbs the hill with burdened feet,
Where sun and stone and stormcloud meet.
Through thorny paths and forest deep,
He wakes the dawn, denies the sleep.
No storm nor fire, no beast nor flood,
Can dim the duty in his blood.
Not caste, not creed, nor rich nor poor—
He knocks on every humble door.
He brings the word, the joy, the tear,
From far-off lands to loved ones near.
His sack may hold both pain and peace,
Yet never shall his service cease.
Temples, churches, mosques alike,
He walks them all with equal strike.
No colour blinds, no rank divides,
The Gramin Dak Sewak(GDS) in silence strides.
For centuries he’s served this land,
With threadbare shoes and empty hand.
No pension earned, no status claimed,
Still burns in him the loyal flame.
The rulers changed, the flags have flown,
But he is still not truly known.
They changed his name, not his despair—
Still fighting for a rightful share.
Twelve hours he walks, through dusk and day,
Yet five alone they claim to pay.
Like bonded hands in freedom’s land,
He works with hope, not with command.
The Constitution's solemn creed
Is mocked by this unheeded need.
No “equal pay” for equal task—
How long shall truth behind masks bask?
With heart so wide and earnings small,
He still delivers to us all.
Rain or heat, he makes no plea,
Yet lives in silent agony.
He asks no alms, no favour grand,
Just equal rights, a helping hand.
For one who builds the postal frame,
Why should he live without a name?
The courts have ruled, the voices cried,
Yet every plea is cast aside.
The files pile high, the promises fade,
While years roll on in long parade.
Why no pension, why no grade,
For one whose service shall not fade?
A servant true, a life long spent,
Yet no civil acknowledgement.
The Government deaf, the system cold,
Yet he moves on, both young and old.
With rallies, letters, hunger fasts—
Still justice dodges, always lasts.
Every reform leaves them behind,
Data-driven, yet none seem to mind.
As agents once, they built the net,
Shadowed now, with rising debt.
Governments boast of digital speed,
Deserts of silence remain in need.
Satellites fly, apps rule the day,
Still GDSs serve with no fair pay.
But oh GDS, do not bend,
This is not where your path should end.
The stars will shift, the winds will turn,
And fires shall rise where passions burn.
So rise again, though hope is thin,
For justice waits where fights begin.
Let struggle be your battle song—
For right denied too long is wrong.
Stand tall with banner, voice and pen,
And march again, and yet again.
The post you bear, the love you sow—
Will one day make the nation know.
Your sweat, your steps, your silent vow—
Deserve their rightful place somehow.
History shall write in gold your name—
The one who bore the people's flame.
So hold each hand, let none stand lone,
For strength is born when hearts are one.
Though justice sleeps and hopes may sway,
Together we'll rise—our dawn will stay.
*****
