Be it scorching summer or pouring rain,
We can see scenes of men forming human chains,
Loaded in trucks sizzling through narrow lanes,
Heaps of sands creating a mound,
Cranes dancing its way, carrying iron pillars from the ground,
As all the men around,
Walk with heads loaded with bags of cement,
Wiping their inner cries and torment,
Women carry stones in a balancing act,
Ignoring their kids crying for milk and food,
Feet march non-stop in unison with great tempo,
As the sounds of earth augurs rise to defeaning crescendo,
Fast forward… In sometime….
What was once a lake or a playground,
Has been metamorphosed into skyscrapers all round,
As I stood frozen in a moment of time,
I had a thought…
As the skyscrapers are up,
Ready to occupy,
Owners’ (We/Our) names decorate the doors,
But what about those men?
Who mixed the mortar and stones,
We eat platter of scrumptious meals,
But what about those men?
Whose breath are etched in the stones of the rooms,
Where we breathe,
We enjoy the swimming pool and other amenities,
But what about those men?
Who lost their lives for you and me,
and whose souls linger where you and I live,
We enjoy the night raves,
But what about those men?
Who are laid in their graves.
Every stone has a story to say,
a..stories of human cry,
…stories of kids falling prey,
…stories of hunger,
..stories of life shatter asunder,
…stories of dreams lost,
…stories that don’t cost,
you and me.
Can we just boast this as the world shining,
When their clan is dying,
Is this what brings us fame,
Or does it bring guilt and shame,
As you read… just pause… internalise the storyline…
The skyscrapers were witness to cycles of life and death, wherein, the souls of those who built it remains immortal.
Rijesh Ramachandran is an engineer by education, central banker by profession, traveller and blogger by passion. His experience are his words.
Featured image: Reuters