The Invisibles

Look. See. Feel. Touch.

Most of us think of ourselves as survivors. Fighters who battle the odds to come up on top at the end of the day.

Well, some wage a daily battle against the Keres (the blood-craving sisters of Thanatos, the Greek god of non-violent death). They hope to emulate King Sisyphos, who outwitted Thanatos. Unlike the celebrities engaged in a hypocritical war against the paparazzi, these people are always in the public eye and would do almost anything to be noticed. But, hardly anyone even knows of their existence. We pass them every day, but fail to see them. Look through them. They are after all dirty embellishments on the beautiful edifice of our city and life.

Recently, while walking in the city late at night, I felt a strange presence. Like some unseen eyes staring at me. Glaring at me for committing some heinous crime. Looking around, I realize I am in a bedroom. And a family is staring at me. It’s those invisible masses who fight off death every day when they make the footpath their bedroom.

I am in their home. The space that converts into a drawing room, kitchen, and a little further away is their toilet too. I would be considered a trespasser and thief if I had entered any walled house, but here I can arrogantly claim that they are the trespassers. Strange.

These people are the true cogs of a city. They not only do those activities, which we are too ‘educated’ to do or too disgusted. Ultimately, the greatness of a city and civilization cannot be gauged by the GDP, satellites, factories, production, accomplishments, but by the way it treats it most disfranchised, the down-and-out and the ‘losers’. After all, we are defined by not only what we do and how we do what we do, but also who we do it to.