The Hindu today ran an article titled, 'The long march home on the other side of the Vindhyas', and it shook me. I wanted to help them. I wanted to do something. I wanted this to not be the reality I faced.
And yet, I was instantly reminded of the various times that I have failed to love these migrant workers. A few times while travelling by train from Rajnandgaon to Bangalore, or the other direction, there were a number of migrant workers on the journey along with me. Most of them would not have reserved tickets, and so would be illegally on the sleeper coaches. I would often argue and demand for my seat, claiming that I had a reserved seat. And I would often be irritated by their presence.
Today, I wonder what moral right do I have to criticize others (including the Government) for their treatment of these workers. Yes, according to the Government rules, it may not be right of them to try and go home. But we all understand that they still are willing to walk more than 2000 kilometers only out of desperation. But then it was the same before the lockdown right? They were not supposed to board the sleeper coach with a general ticket, but they did so out of desperation right?
I remember talking to a guy on the train on one of my journeys. He was travelling to Janjgir - Champa, and he said that he had paid the full sleeper charge and had booked a month in advance but did not get a confirmed ticket. It was essential he reach home by then. And even I could see the rush in the general compartment made it impossible to get in there.
The sight of these migrant workers walking on the road shows how desperate the pandemic has made their lives. But the fact that these people would consider walking such a distance when I sure wouldn't, perhaps points to the fact that their lives were already plenty difficult to begin with. The fact that they would consider such an option to act upon shows the way they have lived all their lives. I had not seen it till today.
If my family or friends had been among those crowd of migrants, I wonder if I would just be feeling bad and praying for them. Or even writing such blog posts. I wonder if I'd be doing more if I had near and dear ones among those walking home. This goes on to show that I don't love these migrant workers as much as I love my family or friends. The Biblical command to love my neighbour (which includes the migrant workers) as myself seems impossible when I can't even love them as much as I love my brother.
When the lockdown was announced, I flew home. My parents booked the ticket, which cost a total of 4237 rupees. They paid for it. Today a guy three years younger than me is trying to reach home. By foot. With 700 rupees in hand. And the distance more than 2000 kilometers.
And yet, I was instantly reminded of the various times that I have failed to love these migrant workers. A few times while travelling by train from Rajnandgaon to Bangalore, or the other direction, there were a number of migrant workers on the journey along with me. Most of them would not have reserved tickets, and so would be illegally on the sleeper coaches. I would often argue and demand for my seat, claiming that I had a reserved seat. And I would often be irritated by their presence.
Today, I wonder what moral right do I have to criticize others (including the Government) for their treatment of these workers. Yes, according to the Government rules, it may not be right of them to try and go home. But we all understand that they still are willing to walk more than 2000 kilometers only out of desperation. But then it was the same before the lockdown right? They were not supposed to board the sleeper coach with a general ticket, but they did so out of desperation right?
I remember talking to a guy on the train on one of my journeys. He was travelling to Janjgir - Champa, and he said that he had paid the full sleeper charge and had booked a month in advance but did not get a confirmed ticket. It was essential he reach home by then. And even I could see the rush in the general compartment made it impossible to get in there.
The sight of these migrant workers walking on the road shows how desperate the pandemic has made their lives. But the fact that these people would consider walking such a distance when I sure wouldn't, perhaps points to the fact that their lives were already plenty difficult to begin with. The fact that they would consider such an option to act upon shows the way they have lived all their lives. I had not seen it till today.
If my family or friends had been among those crowd of migrants, I wonder if I would just be feeling bad and praying for them. Or even writing such blog posts. I wonder if I'd be doing more if I had near and dear ones among those walking home. This goes on to show that I don't love these migrant workers as much as I love my family or friends. The Biblical command to love my neighbour (which includes the migrant workers) as myself seems impossible when I can't even love them as much as I love my brother.
When the lockdown was announced, I flew home. My parents booked the ticket, which cost a total of 4237 rupees. They paid for it. Today a guy three years younger than me is trying to reach home. By foot. With 700 rupees in hand. And the distance more than 2000 kilometers.
Thanks Caleb for being true!
ReplyDeleteOf late we understand the reality and when realised, it's always tough.
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