I woke up one morning and on
looking outside my window witnessed an interesting scene. The empty site next
door that had been full of weeds and unwanted grasses was now cleared
completely. In the center of the clearing was a brick structure with one tiny
window. Since it was early, I assumed this must have happened over night. Just
when I was wondering if there were inhabitants within, I saw from behind the
brick house black smoke rising. I noticed there what seemed like three bricks
set close together in the middle of which lay a heap of burning firewood. Atop this
simple stove was placed a brass pot that looked so old and used it reminded me
of a piece in an antique shop. The pot contained some lentils that were being
cooked to perfection by none other than the woman of the hut. She looked like
she was in her late 20’s. There she sat squatted on the ground, in front of the
little furnace in what might have been a comfortable position. I was busy
noticing all this when, I heard the sound of teeth brushing, the source of
which was the woman’s husband. Next the man was to wash up. The bathroom
consisted of half of a metal shed behind which he hid and bathed hastily with a
little less than 1 small bucket of water. It made me wonder how many buckets
I’d use for my own bathing purposes. Soon after this he got hold of an oxidized
plate and went to the hot stove for some breakfast. In the meantime, the lady
had gone into the hut for a while. When she next came out she was carrying in
her arms a little infant girl, followed by a toddler and an elder boy around 7.
They began to play in the heap of sand which lay in one corner of the clearing
that was also acting as a resting zone for a couple of stray dogs. This made me
realize the joy children get from small things.
In a few seconds I could
hear the sound of a cement mixing machine coming round the corner past my house
to where the empty site was. Only then did I understand that these people were
construction workers who had come from a nearby village to earn a livelihood
for their family. It wasn’t an easy job at all. The man now wore his dhoti in
half around his waist and some cloth to serve as protection from the harsh sun
of the day ahead of him. The woman was busy attending to the needs of her
smallest child inside the hut, while the two kids continued to run around
noisily around the construction site. I knew that she would soon have to begin
cooking the mid-day meal for the others involved in the work. But this was just
one family. At the next instant a truck load of people, men and women arrived
from the village to work. I noticed one old man with grey hair came past my
pavement onto the site. He had so terrible a cough that I thought he must have
tuberculosis. But then I saw him pop a cheap cigarette (beedi) in his mouth.
This action was followed by a series of cigar puffing and coughing alternately.
I pitied him. If only someone showed him the bad it was doing to him.
It was almost noon time now
and the sun being high up in the sky, one would have to stand on his own shadow
at this time. They had all lined up together, each carrying a sphere-like
hollowed vessel on his head and walking towards a pit where they would dump the
contents. This continued for another hour or so. I saw them move as their legs
glistened with sweat, their dark skin appeared greasy. But they never tired and
the women worked too. Helping one and other, old women and young women were
passing heaps of sand in strangely shaped vessels to lay the foundation of a
house-that they would neither live in nor watch other people lead their lives
in. Their work was mechanical and steady. I began to wonder where they would
migrate to next, what they would build, what would become of them.
But as the aroma of freshly
cooked food reached their heaving nostrils, their thoughts came back to the
present. So what if they would only get a bowl of porridge or some dried bread
or even some more lentils? But wait, this time it was a little different, they
were getting some real food for a change. Somebody generous had supplied them
with a gunny bag of flour and another of rice. The women suddenly turned into
kitchen goddesses. They worked together and prepared a scrumptious feast of
chapattis, dal and rice. That afternoon they ate like there was no tomorrow.
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