Broken Kingdom.

A towering skyscraper is being built.Like an oak of concrete and steel, it slowly grows upwards, ready to penetrate the canopy of the Mumbai skyline and take its place amongst the giants which define this city; and to greater extent this country’s steady march towards progress and prosperity. But in the shadow of this rising behemoth, a different plant grows, an ugly weed crawling in the shadows of the forest floor. To build a tower needs manpower and men are cheap and easy to acquire. Like cattle it can be found in abundance in India's villages and like cattle they can be stuffed into sheds of plastic, wood and tin and a symbiotic relationship is formed.Wherever a sprawling residential complex or a majestic office building, a marvel of modern architecture and design is to be built, a slum also grows below it, to supply it with men. Like an umbilical cord of a growing fetus, it provides it with the nourishment it requires and takes away all of the waste, protecting the child of progress from the shit world surrounding it.

 

 

The growth of urban India is often broadcasted with much pride and fanfare. A testament to the booming young economy ready to take on the global giants.As more and more of our country move to the cities leaving behind the rural fields in search of a better pay and future, their infrastructure groan under the added burden.As a true marker of our economy, their growth has always been erratic and unplanned, a truly bottom up approach of act now, act fast and grow at all costs.And in this desperate hunger for growth, men have been left behind. The cost of a human life growing ever cheaper as the balance steadily tipped in favour of supply, out stripping the demand year on year.In a not so subtle juxtaposition of the inherent dichotomy of our economic growth,as the grand halls of commerce and progress grew, so did the stables serving it.Men grew fat on the spoils of a booming economy and even more men gathered fighting for the scraps under their masters’ tables. And this tragedy remained hidden in plain sight.We chose to ignore the growing weed, so awestruck were we by the huge oaks in the urban forest.

In a cruel irony of fate,a plague of biblical proportions was required to open our eyes to this unjust system of exploitation. It almost felt like divine retribution against a nation which  had enslaved,whom the Mahatma called, God’s own people. The forests were shut, the oak trees stopped growing and the sheds were closed; forcing the cattle to migrate back to the fields from where it came. Our economic growth was based on a structure of systematic exploitation of a cheap and easily replaceable workforce, with very little accountability on the part of their employers.Men who were needed as long as there was work to be done and thrown away the moment the work ended. The plague exposed the plight of such men who had kept this broken system afloat. But plagues don't last forever and a lot of questions need to be answered now or left forgotten, at least until the next plague strikes.

 

 

Why are so many men leaving their home in search of work? Why is it only in the urban Jungles that our country sees growth and progress? How can a nation of 1.2 billion people be sustained on less than 20 focused points of employment and progress?

The Mahatma had said that India’s soul lies in its villages. So have we sold our soul to the Devil for a measly paycheck?