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Our Daily Bread

April 18, 2019 | By

The slogging labourers, the tea-seller, the egg-seller, the dog hiding the piece of roti and the sweepress – they leave no stone unturned in order to satisfy the pangs of hunger. The labourers leave the comfort of their houses, so do the birds and animals. All for those notorious hunger pangs. With sharp strokes of her pen, the writer recreates the following scene which she witnesses during her morning walk .

Morning Meanderings is a popular musings column by Dr Santosh Bakaya. Enjoy her jottings with a hot cup of coffee. 🙂

The glowing rising sun

One more building was again coming up and more labourers had congregated on the scene along with their meagre belongings from far off lands. I saw two labourer women bathing under the tap of a huge water tank which the builder had provided them, along with some other perks, while the men maintained a discreet distance, some brushing their teeth, and some splashing water over their  faces from a couple of buckets lying around.
“Kahaan sey aayey ho?” I asked when the two women smiled in my direction.
“Chattisgarh.”
“Itnay door sey?”
 “Kya karey, pait key liye karna padhta hai?” One of them remarked, pouring a mugful of water on herself.
“Come and bathe with us.” The two bathing beauties invited me, smiling.
Taken aback by their invitation, and afraid that they would pull me in their midst, I blurted out, “Kissi aur din nahaoongi aap logon key saath.”
“Holi bhi aaney vali hai, madam,” I could hear them shouting, as I was scurrying away.

A dog was coming towards me with a roti in his mouth. Why was it not eating it? Perhaps keeping the roti for its progeny? But no, it soon started digging a hole in the mud, and put the roti there, covering it securely with mud.
The tea seller who was watching my amazed expression smiled and said, “Don’t be surprised, madam. They do it all the time. It is not hungry, right now.  When it feels hungry, it will dig it up and have its fill. We see it every day in our village.”

Santosh Bakaya

Morning Meanderings by Dr Santosh Bakaya

“Oh! Do they remember where they have hidden the roti?”
“Yes, they remember.”
The tea seller had earlier been coming with his entire family. Their two kids played the entire day in the mud or sometimes on a small bedsheet next to the kiosk while the mother prepared tea for the labourers.  But I had not been seeing them for almost four months now, only the man would be there selling tea.
“I have just got a job as a security guard in that building over there,” he said with a happy glow on his face. Before I could congratulate him, my eyes fell on something yellow stirring in the kiosk.
“Oh, your wife has also come today?”
“Yes, my wife and our three-month-old daughter.”
The wife who had been sitting with her back to me, in a yellow ghagra choli turned in my direction with a huge smile, clutching a bundle to her chest.
“I had gone to the village for her birth,” she said with a shy smile, which was also tinged with pride.

short stories

Then I noticed a bike on which sat a tiny girl looking like a boy

Then I noticed a bike on which sat a tiny girl looking like a boy, and a boy looking like a boy, played with the mud on the ground .
Kuvar, Saakshi and Anushka were the three names painted on the bike.
“What have you named her?”
“Anushka,” said the tea vendor, beaming.
So, one did not need to be bright enough to deduct that the girl slithering down the bike, yelling “Paapi, Paapi” was Saakshi.
The father looked at me self-consciously, and said, “Look, what she is calling me. I am no paapi, but this pait is paapi, we are doing all this for earning our daily bread. Had it not been for that daily bread, why would I have left the snug comfort of my village and come here? Beta, Papa bol, Papa, Paapi nahi.”

Paapi paapi,” the tiny one insisted, clinging to her father’s legs.

As I headed home, my eyes saw another heart-wrenching scene. There was a young sari-clad woman sweeping the premises, while two tiny tots, not more than three, clung to her sari.  I looked around for the old woman who had been assigned the task of sweeping the premises.

The wife who had been sitting with her back to me, in a yellow ghagra choli turned in my direction with a huge smile, clutching a bundle to her chest.

“My mother has sent me as she could not come today, being unwell,” she said, reading the question in my eyes.  I noticed the elder child was limping. Before I could ask her, why he was limping, I saw his left foot was bandaged and he was wearing no footwear.

“Go up and ask them for yesterday night’s leftover food items.” The boy forgetting the pain in his foot, raced to the third floor, hitching up his shorts, nose running, eyes twinkling.
Kya karey? Paapi pait key liye sab karna padhta hai,” she said, with an apologetic look.

The labourers, the tea-seller, the dog hiding the piece of roti, the sweepress, all were doing it for money. I suddenly realized I could also feel the stirrings of hunger pangs in my stomach and ran into the snug comfort of my house.

Some leave the comfort of their houses, and some rush into it – all for the paapi pait, I mumbled, heading towards the kitchen to prepare the morning tea.

(Pics courtesy: Santosh Bakaya, Antara)

Watch this space for more Morning Meanderings every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. 🙂

Click to read all Morning Meanderings here.

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Learning and Creativity publishes articles, stories, poems, reviews, and other literary works, artworks, photographs and other publishable material contributed by writers, artists and photographers as a friendly gesture. The opinions shared by the writers, artists and photographers are their personal opinion and does not reflect the opinion of Learning and Creativity emagazine. Images used in the posts (not including those from Learning and Creativity's own photo archives) have been procured from the contributors themselves, public forums, social networking sites, publicity releases, Morguefile free photo archives and Creative Commons. Please inform us if any of the images used here are copyrighted, we will pull those images down.

Dr Santosh Bakaya is the author of three mystery novels for young adults, and a book of essays titled Flights From My Terrace, which was recently published as an e-book on Smashwords. Her poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi, Ballad Of Bapu has been published by Vitasta Publishers, Delhi, India in May 2015 and has been receiving rave reviews from everywhere. Although a Political theorist, with a doctorate in political theory, it is literature which has been her first love. She was awarded the Reuel international award for language and literature 2014 for her long poem Oh Hark!, which forms part of the Significant Anthology. Many of her poems have figured in the highly commended category in Destiny Poets, a UK based website and many are part of international anthologies. Right now, she is giving the final touches to her satirical novel, tentatively titled Sanakpur Shenanigans.
All Posts of Santosh Bakaya

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    Today’s Motivation

    <div class=at-above-post addthis_tool data-url=https://learningandcreativity.com/shoot-moon-inspirational-quote/></div>Set your goals so high that even if they by any unfortunate circumstances don’t work out, you will still be flying among the stars which is not bad at all. <!-- AddThis Advanced Settings above via filter on get_the_excerpt --><!-- AddThis Advanced Settings below via filter on get_the_excerpt --><!-- AddThis Advanced Settings generic via filter on get_the_excerpt --><!-- AddThis Share Buttons above via filter on get_the_excerpt --><!-- AddThis Share Buttons below via filter on get_the_excerpt --><div class=at-below-post addthis_tool data-url=https://learningandcreativity.com/shoot-moon-inspirational-quote/></div><!-- AddThis Share Buttons generic via filter on get_the_excerpt -->
    Let your goals be high, such that even if you are unable to lunge the peak of the goal, you will certainly reach a commendable milestone.