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The diary of a migrant labourer

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Every generalization has an exception. The unavoidable situation we are living in today is a true testament to this. Every one of us has heard the very general saying: “The more, the merrier.” Unfortunately, the terror of an invisible, tiny, non-being has rendered this phrase completely useless. ‘COVID-19 PANDEMIC’- or should we call it ‘The Inevitable Battle for Existence’- has made us realize the true nature of life where nothing but survival matters.

On the one hand, this virus reaffirms Darwin’s theory of ‘Survival of the fittest’ and on the other hand, it is continuously amending itself to the bigger picture, which indeed says ‘Survival of the Richest.’ It is not uncommon even in history to see the burden of the highest battles falling upon those who were not the initiators, but just innocent spectators. Be it a war or a riot, it is poor who always pays the heftiest price.This poem is the cry of those helpless hearts, that are once again trapped in a war and this time against nature itself. Daily-wage workers in our country are in most adverse conditions, something which is difficult to even imagine. Seeing the plight of an innocent soul without their fault, impacts the heart of the society. Whenever a person dies of hunger or the exhaustive nature of journey back to their homes, a little child in the heart of every person who is sitting safely at home; also dies.

What dies is our belief, the belief in the most potent people being helpless and ignorant towards this issue. What dies is the dream, the dream of a society with anything but happiness for all. More often than not, we feel utterly helpless in such situations and just cannot relate to the misery experienced by them. At such moments, we need to start valuing our blessings compared to those who are bearing the brunt of the crisis. Because, with the realization of our own blessings comes a whole lot of compassion which is necessary to build a connection with the needs of the poor. No matter what privileges we are provided, or how secure we are, a compassionate heart is never at rest. This is what society needs, and it is a lesson for all of us.

Let this pain sink in and trigger every nerve in your body until you are ready to relate to their situation. In such trying times, our whole perspective of life has changed, and with everything coming to a long pause, we have finally taken the time to sit back and look at the way we were rushing to reach a destination, which was never ours. This poem tells us that it is not always that we need to find that destination, but enjoy the various checkpoints that life offers. This is one such checkpoint-fill it with compassion, because “In the end, all that matters is what we leave behind- A legacy.” Fill it with nothing but kindness.

Minute by minute, this darkness will fadethat’s what I keep telling myself.Yes there will be lightand good times will again be made.As the moonlight falls unanimously,it becomes easier to sufficethe needs of an aching soul,and a heart that still cries.A little comfort is all I need to continue with this journey. “Is that too hard to give?” I asked the privileged ones with small hearts and big money. Nevertheless I walk through the straddled streets, in the hope of fulfilling a dream which may never come true. To see my father in a village afar; but sure,such dreams have no real value. We’re low-we’re very very low and yet when the trumpets ring, the struggle of a poor man’s life will go through the heart of the proudest king. BUT, none of this matters, as our struggle will again revive, through the realisation that we’ve made ‘SOMETIMES IT’S OK TO JUST EXIST, SOMETIMES IT’S OK TO JUST SURVIVE’.
-Mahika Luthra

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