I often wonder, especially when I know about the work-induced anxiety of those in cushy jobs.
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Only an empty site separates my house from the big house coming up on our street. The construction has been slow, and I have had a ringside view of the workers for over eight months.
The watchman’s quarters built soon after the guddali pooje houses Yellamma and yell she does. At her husband, the other workers who ask her to fetch this and that, and God knows who, over the cellphone. She is a mother to three and grandmother to the same number.
My day begins when hers does. Her noisy ablutions and chores wake me. Her son, who also stays in the shed, is a lanky young man and a proud scooter owner. His work on the site is limited to unskilled jobs, and his mobile is his best friend. I can hear him laughing while watching videos.
Recently, the young man fell in the makeshift toilet and is off work. Only a day before his fall, I had watched wonderstruck as he walked on the thin parapet wall of the second-floor roof, jumped on the sajja of the first floor and got to the ground floor using the ladder. It was faster than an escalator ride, and he made the feat look easier than a stroll.
Many of the workers are early birds. They want to escape the heat, perhaps. They arrive in two-wheelers and start work at the crack of dawn. I think the pounding, cutting, and drilling noises are enough to wake the dead, even as I try unsuccessfully to get back to sleep. But the workers' easy banter and frequent laughter are a source of joy. On rainy days, they have to pause their work frequently. But they resume as soon as the rain stops. Without being monitored, they all work sincerely.
I also see the unloading of material. One particular youngster is exceptionally diligent. He works methodically and quickly and downloads twice as many bags as the others. I am sure he would have been given hefty bonuses and promoted to higher posts had he been in a white-collar job.
What explains the workers’ easy laughter and sincerity? I often wonder, especially when I know about the work-induced anxiety of those in cushy jobs. Is it the endorphin that is released due to the hard labour? Yellamma, who only does the easy jobs, is dour most of the time. Even her grandchildren don’t seem to cheer her up. Seeing this contrast, I vow to exercise more but then decide that laughing with friends or writing a middle also does the job for me!