Walking on the streets of Delhi in the morning, there is a cloud of dust in the distance.
I am on my way to office. A few drivers are wiping away the last few drops of water off the cars. The owners will be out in a few minutes–the early birds who want to beat the office rush.
As I walk towards the dusty path, the outline of a broom wielding person emerges.
Swoosh!
A kerchief over his mouth, a swafa around his neck—beads of sweat, if any, have been hidden under filth.
As I approach, he stops. He waits for me to pass, and then continues to clean up the mess created by fellow humans the day before.
Since the time I can remember, workers like these have worked tirelessly to keep the streets clean. I don’t know who employs them. We’ve not paid them for their services—unless one of them comes to collect bakshish or chanda after Holi and Diwali.
A car passes by me. An empty bag of chips comes flying out. Further ahead, a man casually spits on the road.
We’re supposed to be on a mission to clean up the country. I wonder what these sweepers who’ve been cleaning this urban city for years would have to say about this mission.
Here’s wishing you a happy and colourful Holi!
We’ll set aside a few Gujiyas for our cleaning staff when they clean up after our festivities tomorrow morning.
Musings of an eccentric mind 