Shivanna
The video personally meant a lot more to me as it brought back a flood of memories. Some memories unwittingly get etched very strongly in our minds and hearts and get triggered when we least expect them to surface. My earliest interaction, if i can call it that, with a sanitation worker was way back when i was a child. I remember being in the car with my father and we were driving out somewhere. Suddenly, he stopped the car to the side when he saw a few people working near a manhole. As a child i had no idea what those gaping holes were or what those men were doing. I remember seeing him talk to them, patting them on the shoulders and giving them some money from his wallet. Why would he give money to random strangers on the road, i had thought. I saw him offering his cigarettes and lighting it up for them with his lighter. I remember how he walked back to the car with a very thoughtful, pensive and sad look. I was wondering who they were and why my father did what he did. That day, my father explained what they did and what a tough and life threatening job it was. That if a man is ready to risk his life and health for taking up such a shunned job, the paltry money offered for doing it must be so important to him. And how casually we take so much for granted. How, most times, people wouldn't even acknowledge their contribution to the society let alone appreciate them. Empathy and compassion are what i learnt first hand that day.
Life happens and i almost forgot about this whole incident. The curious innocence of childhood was soon replaced by a casual indifference to everything other than one's own problems and issues. Years later when my parents and i stayed as neighbours in a colony, i came across another sanitation worker at closer quarters. It was the year when i was pretty much managing the independent house alone and the incessant rains had flooded the colony that rainy season. The maintenance of overflowing manholes in front of our home, seepage in the roof et al, seemed to fall squarely on my shoulders. All i had on my agenda was how to handle the overflowing manholes and the flooded storm drains. It was then, i came across this sanitation worker who was going around the colony on his rickety, noisy cycle with a long pole/stick cleaning the manholes. Many manholes in the colony had to be cleaned by personally getting down into them. He worked alone and nobody in the neighbourhood seemed to be concerned for his safety.
But, of course, every time, the sanitation worker was cleaning a manhole, my father would stand guard to make sure he came out safe. I started roping in the watchman to assist my father. We did as my father directed us, getting buckets of water and soap bars to help the man to clean himself. My father would ask me to make a cup of strong tea for the man and would tip him liberally for his efforts. Growing up, i always saw my father being driven around in chauffeur driven luxury cars, travelling the world, heard about his famous Board Meetings and conferences with business magnates, saw pictures of him hobnobbing with the who's who of the business world. And yet, here he was, sharing his Classic Milds with this man as if they were old friends. When the other members in the colony saw my father interacting with the sanitation worker, they too were shaken out of their callous indifference and started acknowledging the work this man did. My father always addressed him by his name...till then nobody around even bothered to know him as a person other than calling him as the 'safai wala'. Shivanna soon got the attention he deserved, the acknowledgement that was his due.
I think it is not the big things that kill the spirit of a person. It is the seemingly small and innocuous things. The callous indifference, the unacknowledged lives...these can really kill and bury the spirit of a person. But it is also the small gestures that can make such a huge difference to people's lives. I learnt a lot from my father by observing how he treated people who could do nothing for him. That lives matter, that people matter...and that even the smallest gestures of acknowledgement and appreciation can bring a smile of joy.
Even after the rains, Shivanna often came home to meet my father. Sometimes to ask him for medicines for body aches, sometimes to discuss about his children's future, sometimes, just because he was in the vicinity. As he left, my father would affectionately pat his shoulders and the smile that lit up Shivanna's face was priceless. And the life-lessons i learnt were too...
Comments