The sight of construction workers at a site near my office in Whitefield-Bangalore, inspired me to write this poem. It was meant as a tribute to those unsung heroes/heroines.
Like ants seem their daily toil,
Theirs’ a labour of perpetual boil.
Shine or rain, night or day,
Thro’ perils all, lies their way.
With stone & steel they fashion,
The towering edifices of industrial passion.
From nullity they create lasting solidity,
From dust rises a dreamed city.
Their work done, they appear small,
Their creations then, proudly stand tall.
Though creators of this concrete kingdom,
Theirs’ a mighty tale heard seldom.
Yet power nor fame they desire,
A simple life kindles their fire.
Thus they march, for another chore,
Like ants prospecting their winter store.
