New Zuari Bridge Inauguration In Goa - Let Us Also Salute Every Labourer Who Slogged To Build The Bridge Poem by Bernedita Rosinha Pinto

O' that new bridge is soaked in sweat
of those workers who slogged there
from dawn to dusk without any relief
from the drag and darn they had to endure,
without any respite from the hot sun and dust
over the years that went by in making of the bridge;
their shoes were always so filled with sludge
their faces were so often drenched in perspiration
when every evening or night or at daybreak
they would walk from their construction sites
to their rooms to rest after a hard day's grind;
no one cared to know how tired they truly felt
no one cared to know how exhausted
were their bodies, muscles and minds
as they changed their clothes after they bathed
and rushed to sleep with a meagre meal;
and the next morning or evening again
in the same old clothes they appeared
which looked so muddy and unclean
though on their heads they wore safety helmets
and on their feet were the same old dirty shoes
which were smeared casually with river sludge;
and as the cement dust filled their lungs on site,
their hearts always felt an urge to earn
though they always looked so weak and gloomy;
yes, they came to work only to gather wages
they came to earn their salaries as an income
so that they could sustain and feed their families;
so they dared and bore every difficult task
no matter how long they had to stand in the sun
or how long they had to stand amidst the wind.

And for months they worked silently, each one
digging, piling, welding, climbing heights
joining pipes and hinges, lighting the poles,
painting the underpass, towing the debris
and every detail-job to make the bridge so ready;
and as the day came when the big bridge
finally got completed and ready for use of people,
the labourers were gone to their native places
or perhaps they might have moved on
to other construction sites to do the same work
and complete another bridge with their efforts.

And as I remember them and visualize them
before my eyes, my heart weeps silently
as those young skinny boys of tender age
and nimble hands struggled so hard
and contributed all their energy and efforts
to build that bridge which stands so tall today
that on it stand leaders making tall speeches
but they forgot to callout the names of those
labourers who were engaged in constructing
the bridge with their bent backs and hungry bellies
that from today as I will travel on that bridge
I will foremost think of them
and say a prayer of thanks
as it is they who have erected the bridge
with all their might and repeated thirst
and they left for our generations a right of way
to cross the bridge over the river for centuries
and until I live no day will pass in my life
without the memories of those young poor boys
who dedicated their energy to build this bridge
as they are the bees, they are the drones
who worked all day and night
and the Zuari Bridge is just a honeycomb
which is a marvel which money could not create
unless those labourers contributed their efforts
and to them I hold my utmost gratitude.