The sultry heat on a midsummer afternoon is a depiction of sun god’s prowess on the petty human souls and the barren land that is being baked by his glowing furnace. I stood along the payment of the construction site, analyzing the changing dynamics of realty (that’s my profession). I dreaded this visit. The minute I stepped out of the cozy confines of my air-conditioned car, I was profusely sweating. In a minute I was soaked in a deluge of body fluids that ceaselessly flowed from every minute pore, like a ruptured pipe. I looked up, gazing at the concrete jungle to find skeletal figures working atop the roof, hundreds of feet high- it is a merciless profession and the very sight was painful.
You work all day long, with a mixture of bricks, sand and stones, bearing the brunt of the torturing heat. As you retire for the day, your choking unable to resist the side effects of the “construction world”. The life of construction workers are like nomadic tribes, loitering from place to place in search of work. A shaky hut, instantly resurrected amidst the chaos, is a home for many. While the ‘localities’ have the freedom to stray away from the site, the ‘exported workers’ who make their way to the cities in search of a living, survive within the dusty confines of their project.
Every construction site has it’s share of mishaps that are conveniently camouflaged like a stray injury, that was never to be. Engrossed in providing a exquisite finish to their work, many have had a free bungee jump, slipping off the roof, never to return again. For those who live to die another day-The show must go on.
As I stepped into the compound, it was a familiar sight of dust, din and animated orders being yelled out by the supervisor. My presence brought back a crafted smile that had long gone missing. He quickly offered me a helmet, showcasing ‘highly maintained’ security standards. I research the changing dynamics of the realty market and am seldom out there at the site – a mechanical engineer would terribly fail at analyzing the intricacies of concrete! However the last two and a half years had thought me the reality of realty.
As I made my way to the top, the supervisor continued to chatter of the world-class facilities that would adorn each floor. In deep contrast, I saw workers struggling to survive in the unforgiving heat. Once completed, this piece of craftsmanship would merely be a spectacle for them, completely out of bounds. After the work is completed, they ‘disown’ their child, as they move on to seek another job. Years later, when these ‘monuments’ become landmarks in the city, they stand along the sidewalks, silently admiring their exquisite piece of art.
I stood atop the 12th floor of the complex, admiring the scenic views of my ever-changing city, as each tower was competing with the other, to stamp it’s sign of ‘vertical dominance’. As I casually peeped down, the world seemed miniature in size, with microscopic vehicles speeding on the highway. The very thought of a free fall from here, sent a shiver down my spine.” Ignorance is Bliss”, I convinced my provocative mind, as I stepped back from the fringes.
In another few minutes I was back to the ground floor, busy discussing the completion date of this ‘concrete marvel’. My phone buzzed and I casually walked away when a little child, caught my eye. She must have been 2 years old. She lay amidst the heap of sand, digging her tiny hands deep into the fine grains. Unmindful of sun god’s vengeance, she remained in her world of blissful ignorance. This wasn’t the first time she was out there in the scorching heat. It seemed she had befriended the sun god’s warmth, as she playfully indulged in dirtying her torn attire. Her nose continued to flow ceaselessly, as she carelessly enjoyed her ‘joyful world’ of dust and stones.
I looked around, and there wasn’t a single soul in sight. Her mother was probably a worker in the project, who had left her in this “sand crèche”, while she went about earning a living. The little child smiled at me. It was alien for her to have visitors. She seemed thrilled at seeing me. Her sparkling smile, brought back a cheer on my face. Children are god’s gift, they are magical. A little smile has a soothing effect, calming your reckless nerves in a moment. She was refreshingly different. Beyond her shabby attire and unkempt self was a charming soul, endearing her ‘alien visitor’.
I stood admiring her beauty, whilst answering the phone, when in an absurd moment of insanity, I was thrown away by the magnitude of a huge thud. There was a moment of blankness, as I grappled with the situation. I lay on the ground, unable to interpret the cause of this jolt, when cries of concern echoed the air. As I recouped, I remembered the endearing soul that had captivated my senses. Mustering my diminishing courage, I rose from the ground, to notice a maddening crowd rushing to the heap of sand. The crowd was heading towards her. My heart skipped a beat, as I limped forward. There were cries of a concerned mother. My mind conceived the worst, my heart detested the same –these were indefinable moments of anxiety.
At a distance, I again saw the same endearing smile, in the hands of a wailing mother. The little one continued to smile, as her mother cried in relief. She continued to be in her world of ignorance, unaware of a probable tragedy. Her innocence sparkled amidst the mayhem.
A pile of steel slabs had fallen off the roof, landing right beside her. It was god’s act of retaining some blissful innocence in this complex world. After enquiring of her well-being, as I headed towards my car, the world on it’s part dispersed leaving the mother to tend to her priceless soul. The mother would have to leave her again on the heap of sand, while she went about earning a living.
Imagine a little child all of 2 years, surviving in a world of dust, sand and stones. Do we call it fate or an innocent fight for survival?
Some souls are born to fight for survival; she blissfully continues her fight in the concrete jungle!
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