As we both spoke and played around, at one point I became conscious of three laborers (possibly migrant, unsure) watching us intently. One a kid of around 15, another around 40 and the 3rd around 55. They were tired, end of the day, and possibly waiting for their payment.
I could not help but notice, their yearning as they saw us. What would they give to have our life.
We the dastards (and bastards) who possibly have everything, including a job at these times, but are not capable of appreciating how much not having these things mean - just in terms of creature comforts, not even in terms of happiness.
I wish I could reach out. I really wish I could say, I am not representative of the larger society that is screwing you over.
But something in me, flipped. On second thoughts, I am every Indian. I, with my muted silence, and lack of complete inaction, am a perfect perpetrator.
I believe in the circle of life, and it looks close to being complete soon.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment