Ships passing by

I was driving home one evening last week in a bit of a temper. It had been one of those days which had started poorly and had gone downhill from then on. Nothing major, just a succession of minor incidents and irritants that start to stack up.

 

As I was cruising along I happened to see next to me a bus full of laborers - taking them back to their camp at the end of a long day, presumably. Nothing unusual about this as it is quite a common sight on Dubai roads! Each window seat in the bus had a man either looking out or resting his head against the center pillar. I could see a few who were slouched and fast asleep. But what caught my eye was that in two consecutive rows I saw men who looked as if they were in their late fifties. White hair, stubbled cheeks, exhausted at the end of a hard day, looking around them at cars they would never sit in and houses that they probably will never experience.

I was struck at how old these two looked! I know that I am being naïve and stupid but I have somehow never thought of an 'old' laborer. Whenever I picture one - it is normally someone of South Asian decent, in their twenties or at most thirties. The thought of someone doing hard physical labor into their late fifties never occurred to me. Stupid I know - but it just did not seem right and hence was not in my frame of reference.

And that got me to thinking about how hard a life it would be for someone of that age to do hard labor. I find it difficult to bend down or to crouch and get to something on the floor, leave alone lift anything. My body already feels stiff and aged, and I am glad that the only physical demands of my job are on my fingers as they type. If there is a light switch that is a bit low on the wall, or I have dropped something on the floor - I ask the kids to get to those. Squatting, crouching, bending low are all activities that I assiduously avoid.

I know that what you are probably thinking is that your body gets used to certain physical movements and that these guys have been doing it all their life and hence know no different. You may be right, but I was thinking also of their mental state. How would one cope with the knowledge that your entire life has been and will continue to be an endless succession of mindless labor? While one is in their twenties and their thirties - there is still hope of redemption. One can still dream or work on changing their situation. There is still a slender chance that one can save money for a small paddy field, or a coconut grove back home. There is still hope that some stroke of destiny will afford them maybe a change of job - something plush like a driver or an office boy.

But what does one dream of in their fifties at the bottom rung of the ladder? How does one cope with the thought that ones physical and hence financial means are diminishing day by day? And there are still long years ahead. The years of physical labor having taken a toll, will mean that the body already ravaged, will demand more rest, more attention and hence more care. And what about their children? How do they see and cope with the fact that their father has to sweat every day of his life to support them? How would I feel in a similar situation?

It is only natural that we consider the tribulations of people who are in our sphere of interest, like the helpers, the office boys, the junior staff and house help. But even on their worst day they work in better conditions than these men who work in the most demanding of places for a pittance. Who toil in near boiling temperatures with heavy safety gear, to provide us the luxuries that we take for granted. On our worst day - we can think of retirement or a day in the future when we will not have to take $#*it from anyone.

And then I thought back to the petty irritants that day, that had fouled my mood - the small ripples in my scheme of things that had upset me - and I felt like a petulant child. A spoiled brat - throwing tantrums for the smallest of things. In comparison to what those men in the bus endure, how trivial is the stuff that makes us irritable! Our egos demand the gratification of every impulse, getting affronted at the most insignificant of occurrences. And then I asked myself - would the things that upset me that day have upset me if I had walked a mile in their shoes?

 

Even though I had passed that bus by the time this train of thought had finished, in my mind's eye I envisaged them seeing me drive my car past their bus. If they did happen to notice me, as I noticed them - what would they think? How would they picture my life? The answer was obvious to me! And so driving in cocooned air-conditioned comfort that I have so taken for granted, my mood suddenly lifted. 

I felt blessed, but somehow smaller at the same time.