Unending struggles against fate tides.

The heart pains to see them.
It is a matter of pride for them.
They, wrapped in a thin sari
In a dirty sandals, a bindi on their forehead radiant
Covering their head with their ghoonghat
Beads of sweat glistening on their brows and skin
Under the vagaries of the weather
There, they are working under the sweltering heat.
Without any fuss and caprices
With an unwavering courage and grit nestled in their heart
They carry the loads of bricks at the top.
Slowly and steadily, they watched their steps at the stairs.
No one even asks for them.
All passersby watch them with an indifferent eye.
Helpless by the odds
Victims of unwanted circumstances
Belonging to the lowest edge of the societal pyramid
They seemed to have accepted their lot happily.
In their heart resides an iota of indolence.
An enormous feeling of determination
A constant fight against fate
Everyday is seeped in sweat.
Both despair and triumph at the end.
The lamp of hope gently flickers amidst despair.
And still, they do not get tired.