me and rajul bhai were sharing tea leisurely on our way to office, as is our one ritual quietly.
i see a couple walking.
lady is wearing a shimmering sari , they are walking with their hands touching each other on and off in acknowledgement,
they are migrant labors.
- it is a changed face of my country
- i am happy in my small world of you and me
- you are there for me
- see us,we are proud people
- they are vulnerable?
- what are they thinking?
- are they really okay with all it?
suddenly,in front of my eyes, came people:
So far from home.
roofless always to be.
their small world.
i have come face to face many a times, with these faces.
the old chai seller on remote railway platform of Moonak,Sangrur.
manual labor,old to be my grand-father carrying weight so hapless.
hungry migrants munching on stolen bananas. hundreds traveling everyday in passenger.
the woman with babies working on a site just back side of my home.
even rajul-who gets up at 5:00,has a routine and shows up at my door every day at a set hour. his friend, who has some shoe shop and is eager to go to delhi getting me heel flip flops.
small hopes, rustic life,
but still they make it,
so that people like me,sit in ac and do ‘yeh hai,vo thi.’