Parents - The hardest-working labour class

It was summer, and I had just finished my 6th-grade half-yearly exams. All I could think about was a blissful 30-day vacation filled with cricket. But one pivotal afternoon, my plans unexpectedly changed, leading me to discover a deep respect for the hardest-working people I know: my parents.

 

It was just past 2 PM, and I was ready for a day of play after lunch. First, I needed to get a jar of water to my dad, who was working under the scorching sun on an MGNREGA project, just 800 meters from our house. I raced over, handed him the jar, and was about to head back when he asked me to fill in for him for just 15 minutes while he fed the cows.

 

I agreed, although I managed to negotiate it down from the 30 minutes he originally asked for. There I was, shovel in hand, helping to dig a pool. I was annoyed at missing out on time with my friends. Minutes turned into hours, stretching unexpectedly until 4 PM. We were done for the day.

 

Walking home, I was furious. I felt tricked and disappointed. I couldn’t even look at my dad when I saw him still working on our farm. In a burst of anger, I threw the water jar aside and vented all my frustrations. That night was restless, filled with rage and tears.

The next morning, with my anger slightly gone, I decided to go back to work. Maybe part of me wanted to make him feel guilty.

 

I worked the entire day and realized just how much my father did for us. Even the previous day, while I was at the pool, he was still working on the farm. The work at the pool was relatively easier, and there were many others like him, working hard for their families, some only a few years older than me. I realized it was an opportunity to help the hardest-working person I knew. I could still play after 4 PM. I returned home that day and decided to continue working with a smile. For the next 20 days, I worked not out of obligation, but out of deep respect and joy in sharing these burdens.

 

Each day revealed more about my parents' daily sacrifices, showing the depth of their commitment and love. Those days deepened my respect and love for them. I understood just how much they did for us. Every drop of sweat, every decision, every sacrifice was clear, maybe I still can't comprehend everything.

 

The sweet moments felt sweeter, and the hard times seemed easier. They could no longer trick me with claims like - they enjoyed grinding in the sun, or they disliked our favorite sabji so we siblings could eat more, or they preferred hard food so we could enjoy the tender parts. 

 

Note: Converted from my phone notes. Had published on FB a long time ago.