We hear the labourers chattering all day. The flyover near our house. It is getting constructed. It has been like this for two years now.
The daily noise – massive thuds, drilling machines ramming deep into the earth, the sounds of cranes and bulldozers, not to mention – the bright lights and sirens that flash even at 2 am. No matter the day – whether we have an important client call, or a Sunday morning off, or wish to sneak in a meditation session – the din sometimes is unbearable, chaotic and equally unloved by one and all.
But flip this over. These are men and women on a mission. Not to just construct a bridge, but to also construct their lives. Or rather to prevent it from deconstruction. How much can these daily wagers really earn? Hardly enough to make ends meet. And they need to send money back to their families in their villages too?
While we sleep in double glassed sound-proofed air-conditioned high-rises, these folks melt in the sun, puff in the dust, and sleep huddled in reprehensible accommodations. We can only think “When will this bridge get completed, so that my travel time in my luxury car can get cut in half.” They on the other hand, may never get a chance to use this bridge, or maybe only in an overcrowded bus in the sweltering heat. Soon after they are done here, they will be transported to yet another construction site, nearby, far away, who knows. It is always one day at a time.
Why could we not have been born into their place? We very well could have. We just got really lucky. Let us begin our day with gratitude for this fact.