Bulldozers drove away quickly after destroying the pushcarts of the poor venders.
In awed disbelief, the men stood amidst the debris.When the cloud of dust settled, they saw the spinach,beetroot, tomatoes and onions lying around in a mashed heap. It stung their eyes. It was their livelihood. What thay mashed up was their lives, not merely their ware for sale. Those were men from the slum. They come daily to the city to make money to feed their family.
Shankar scampered around madly, digging wildly in the wreckage. Tears ran down his face. He had been searching for the small tin which contained all his money. The bulldozer must have crushed the tin and all that was in it. Shankar knew he would never find it amidst the debris.
Thank God, he was not caught under the giant wheel. But in the stampede, he fell on his face.His knees and arms were bruiced. His lips looked swollen like a ripe tomato! All the other men were wailing and shouting slogans. Shankar turned away, his heart sinking. Penniless, he limped homeward.
' Sharada had said in the morning that there wasn't a grain of wheat at home. How will she serve dinner tonight? And tomorrow? My livelihood is lost!' Shankar moaned.
He visualized how the slumdwellers would be enjoying themselves with their daily round of singing and dancing. Children would romp around. Elderly men would be resting on cots in the shade of trees, drwing at their hookah, watching the kids and women folk rejoicing in the open.
'How can I face my family tonight ? How are the others going to cope? All have lost their livelihood!' Shankar wept.
Far from the scene of wreckage, he stopped at a teashop where he always took a glass of tea, as he trudged along daily with his almost empty pushcart.
' Shankar Bhaiah, have you also lost your cart?!' One of the men asked. They were all watching the news telecast.Shankar said nothing. Nor did the men expect a reply. They knew the plight of the venders. Height of cruelty to the poor!
The News Reporter was describing the scene of the bulldozer crushing down everything. The visuals on the television screen were heartrending.
'All for the whim of a Showman!' said the Reporter.
Shankar blinked through his tears as the video continued. He could see his friends from the slum shouting slogans. Some were beating their chest or pulling wildly at their hair in their desperation. The camera was now focusing on the wreckage. Their livelihood lying everywhere in a crushed, mashed up heap. The men wailed loudly.
'All this for a Showman!'
The Reporter was seen brushing away his tears.
_________________________
