The calm and the storm.

The city looked clean and bright like it always does. Green trees, blue sky, cotton candy clouds, the scene was perfect. Perfect like an aesthetic picture. Amidst the silent chaos, the city stood strong and pretty.

Last day before the lockdown, all around me were people rushing to stock up, their faces hidden under a mask. The day looked perfect with not a single flaw but then came a sight that m struck through my heart like an arrow and wounded me to the core.

Under an under-construction over bridge, I saw two labourers, an old man and an old woman, working hard, harder than you and me, to earn some bread, the significance of which we often ignore. Their faces had a different kind of sadness, a different kind of worry, one which I had never experienced. The moment was horrifyingly still and felt like it was the last day on earth, like there's a storm and a calm, two contradicting things, happening at the same time.

I felt helpless, sitting in the comfort of my car, the AC saving me from the humid weather outside. I felt helpless watching them but could do nothing to help.

This was the harsh reality.
The truth behind the perfect appearance of the beautiful city.
I sat there, in my little happy bubble.
Blank. A million questions in my head but no answers.

What did they do to deserve this? What did I do to deserve this?
Do they deserve this?
Do I deserve this?
I don't know.

The sight had me feeling grateful for all I have. Grateful for my family and friends, grateful for the food I eat and the clothes I wear. Grateful for the good times,  grateful for the bad times.

I have everything I need, what more can I ask for? I can ask for more but would that be correct if I don't appreciate all I have? I don't think so.

Be grateful, stay happy.