To A Laborer Poem by Sankhajit Bhattacharjee

A man is standing on an iron rod
near a window of a ten-storied building over there.
I can observe him white-washing the walls-
he is not wearing any helmet,
his life is at high risk-
he is a laborer.
We are protected in glass houses
and throwing stones at him!
Though he has not taken any protection,
yet the nature has protected him with her kind arms-
he is architecting a civilization
remaining under the feet of the civilized.