….his brawn goes unnoticed…his open chest is not meant to be
drooled over….her temple breaking that drop of sweat does not brings an ““Oh My
Gwaash…..!!!”” .The clothes they wear does not have many takers as a fad….they
work day, they work night, they work in the sun, they work in the wind, be it
rains or the chills…they can be found on their job…they rise earlier than the
society…and no one has a track of their sleeping hours…they clean our filths,
sometimes they serve as chauffeurs, sometime they are the curette…sometimes
apothecary…then they become soldiers and some are cops….
…the sweeper cleans the street every morning…attracts my
pity…the female who collects it all…the bus driver frustrated of the traffic
yet drives it everyday with out fail…the cops he whistles at movers standing in
the sun midst all the deadly smoke….the warrior at the desert and then in the
minus heat…the news paper boy who comes every morning how much ever crude the
weather be…milking his cow yet manages to reaches in time before tea…sometimes
they are rude and abusive…in turn we curse them with all malice we have and for
all the possible follies…but never would we try and empathize with them…that
they too are human beings and life is few a times bad to them too…they are
called corrupt…and cheap worthless people for us…but why can’t any of them be our hero??
