The 1946 Postal Uprising - From Letters to Liberation
Bruhaspati Samal
General Secretary
Confederation of Central Govt Employees and Workers
Odisha State CoC, Bhubaneswar
In the monsoon-soaked month of July 1946, an extraordinary uprising unfolded—not in battlefields or parliaments, but from the humble corridors of India’s Post and Telegraph Department. What began as a strike by postmen and lower-grade employees demanding fair wages, dignified working conditions, and basic service rights soon thundered into a nationwide political revolt echoing the slogan: “British Imperialism Quit India.” The British rulers, already shaken by the naval mutiny of February 1946, now faced a new front—this time, from the very veins of communication that bound the empire.
The spark was lit when the All India Postmen and Lower Grade Staff Union placed a 12-point charter of demands before the colonial administration. These included long-overdue pay revisions, housing facilities, pensions, and better leave policies. When their calls were met with silence and disdain, the workers launched an indefinite strike from 11 July 1946. It was not a decision taken lightly. For those who walked miles to deliver letters and telegrams in the harshest of conditions, the strike was a cry for dignity long denied.
But what followed was more than a labour dispute—it was a wave of working-class resistance that rolled across the subcontinent. By mid-July, Bengal and Assam saw full participation from all postal and telegraph divisions. On 29 July, nearly 15 lakh workers in Calcutta and surrounding areas observed a general strike in solidarity. Rail lines froze, courts shut down, and factories turned silent. Streets overflowed with workers, students, and common people standing shoulder to shoulder with the postmen. In Calcutta’s Maidan, more than 3.5 lakh people assembled in a rally that legendary Marxist leader Jyoti Basu would later recall as one of the most powerful gatherings of his lifetime. His autobiography Jatodur Mane Pore bears witness to that unforgettable moment of unity and defiance.
The leadership came not from political elites but from the ranks of the workers themselves. Figures like B.N. Ghosh, K.G. Bose, and V.G. Dalvi emerged as fearless organizers and orators, turning every picket line into a platform of political education and collective strength. With active support from the CPI, RSP, Socialist Party, and student organizations, the strike expanded into an anti-colonial front. Its most revolutionary feature was that it was spontaneous, self-led, and grounded in the lived reality of the working class—yet it matured rapidly into a national challenge to British rule.
Despite the colonial government’s initial refusal to negotiate, the sheer scale of the movement forced a historic compromise. On 3 August 1946, all 12 demands were accepted, and the government announced a ₹1 crore allocation as “good conduct pay”—a rare, if reluctant, victory for organized working-class resistance under British India. In Bengal and Assam, the strike continued until 6 August, as leaders awaited appeals from national stalwarts like Maulana Azad, Sarat Chandra Bose, and Surendra Mohan Ghosh to bring the agitation to a dignified close.
Yet the significance of this strike extended far beyond the immediate gains. Materialist historians like Irfan Habib have noted that no truthful narration of India’s freedom movement is complete without acknowledging the role of working-class uprisings like the P&T Strike of 1946. This was the last great rebellion against the Raj before independence—an uprising from the ordinary that challenged not just colonial economics but imperial legitimacy itself. It demonstrated how class struggle, when united with the cause of national liberation, becomes a revolutionary force capable of shaking the very foundations of the empire.
For today’s generation—restless in a world of rising inequality, corporate domination, and institutional neglect—the 1946 strike is not just a history lesson but a blazing torch passed across time. It tells us that even those burdened with low ranks and hard labour can emerge as the vanguard of justice, provided they organize, unite, and dare to dream. It reminds us that struggle is the heartbeat of progress, and that the right to dignity, fair work, and national self-respect was won not only by the slogans of leaders but also by the sweat and sacrifice of postmen who refused to walk one more mile for an unjust empire.
The revolution of 1946 may not be found in every textbook, but it survives in the memory of every letter delivered in a free India. And it calls upon us now—not to remember with nostalgia, but to act with resolve. Because the empire never truly leaves; it simply changes form. And so must our struggle.
Bruhaspati Samal
General Secretary
Confederation of Central Govt Employees and Workers
Odisha State CoC, Bhubaneswar
In the monsoon-soaked month of July 1946, an extraordinary uprising unfolded—not in battlefields or parliaments, but from the humble corridors of India’s Post and Telegraph Department. What began as a strike by postmen and lower-grade employees demanding fair wages, dignified working conditions, and basic service rights soon thundered into a nationwide political revolt echoing the slogan: “British Imperialism Quit India.” The British rulers, already shaken by the naval mutiny of February 1946, now faced a new front—this time, from the very veins of communication that bound the empire.
The spark was lit when the All India Postmen and Lower Grade Staff Union placed a 12-point charter of demands before the colonial administration. These included long-overdue pay revisions, housing facilities, pensions, and better leave policies. When their calls were met with silence and disdain, the workers launched an indefinite strike from 11 July 1946. It was not a decision taken lightly. For those who walked miles to deliver letters and telegrams in the harshest of conditions, the strike was a cry for dignity long denied.
But what followed was more than a labour dispute—it was a wave of working-class resistance that rolled across the subcontinent. By mid-July, Bengal and Assam saw full participation from all postal and telegraph divisions. On 29 July, nearly 15 lakh workers in Calcutta and surrounding areas observed a general strike in solidarity. Rail lines froze, courts shut down, and factories turned silent. Streets overflowed with workers, students, and common people standing shoulder to shoulder with the postmen. In Calcutta’s Maidan, more than 3.5 lakh people assembled in a rally that legendary Marxist leader Jyoti Basu would later recall as one of the most powerful gatherings of his lifetime. His autobiography Jatodur Mane Pore bears witness to that unforgettable moment of unity and defiance.
The leadership came not from political elites but from the ranks of the workers themselves. Figures like B.N. Ghosh, K.G. Bose, and V.G. Dalvi emerged as fearless organizers and orators, turning every picket line into a platform of political education and collective strength. With active support from the CPI, RSP, Socialist Party, and student organizations, the strike expanded into an anti-colonial front. Its most revolutionary feature was that it was spontaneous, self-led, and grounded in the lived reality of the working class—yet it matured rapidly into a national challenge to British rule.
Despite the colonial government’s initial refusal to negotiate, the sheer scale of the movement forced a historic compromise. On 3 August 1946, all 12 demands were accepted, and the government announced a ₹1 crore allocation as “good conduct pay”—a rare, if reluctant, victory for organized working-class resistance under British India. In Bengal and Assam, the strike continued until 6 August, as leaders awaited appeals from national stalwarts like Maulana Azad, Sarat Chandra Bose, and Surendra Mohan Ghosh to bring the agitation to a dignified close.
Yet the significance of this strike extended far beyond the immediate gains. Materialist historians like Irfan Habib have noted that no truthful narration of India’s freedom movement is complete without acknowledging the role of working-class uprisings like the P&T Strike of 1946. This was the last great rebellion against the Raj before independence—an uprising from the ordinary that challenged not just colonial economics but imperial legitimacy itself. It demonstrated how class struggle, when united with the cause of national liberation, becomes a revolutionary force capable of shaking the very foundations of the empire.
For today’s generation—restless in a world of rising inequality, corporate domination, and institutional neglect—the 1946 strike is not just a history lesson but a blazing torch passed across time. It tells us that even those burdened with low ranks and hard labour can emerge as the vanguard of justice, provided they organize, unite, and dare to dream. It reminds us that struggle is the heartbeat of progress, and that the right to dignity, fair work, and national self-respect was won not only by the slogans of leaders but also by the sweat and sacrifice of postmen who refused to walk one more mile for an unjust empire.
The revolution of 1946 may not be found in every textbook, but it survives in the memory of every letter delivered in a free India. And it calls upon us now—not to remember with nostalgia, but to act with resolve. Because the empire never truly leaves; it simply changes form. And so must our struggle.
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