Rising from the rubble

Armed with huge maces, crowbars and sledgehammers of varied sizes, a team of sun-tanned workforce, landed from nowhere at the site one fine morning. Sweat streaming down their faces, stopping now and then to take a swig of water, the demolition squad laboured through several days before leaving the house; walls jagged and denuded of its doors and windows.

Then came the lorry to cart away the doors, windows and railings. A couple of days later rolled in a huge bulldozer. Bang, phat, dong! Within minutes, the walls crumbled like a pack of cards under its heavy impact and the bulldozer disappeared as swiftly as it came. It was now the turn of the earthmover. Under the able manoeuvring of the driver, the huge claw clamped down on mounds of mud mixed with huge stone blocks and loaded them deftly onto the truck standing alongside. But woe behold!

Missing its mark, the dangling claw chose to brush against a neighbouring wall – just a slight brush but enough to bring down a sizable part of the rain soaked wall waiting to fall apart! A stream of the choicest abuses followed from the right and the left, leaving the driver red in the face. Brought to a halt, the debris could be cleared only a few days later, after the mending of the wall.

A week on, appeared the borewell drilling crew in two huge trucks, one loa-ded with a drilling rig and a large compressor, and the other with gigantic steel pipes, diesel and other equipment, snapping the low-lying telephone wires and the thin branches above, as they made their way through the narrow lane. As the drilling machine pierced ferociously into the bowels of the earth, at a spot identified by a hydro-geologist, the power unleashed by it and the accompanying deafening noise, shattered the peace of the locality, sending tremors around.

The initial spray of dust in the first 100 feet was followed by grey coloured dust, proof that the drilling had struck hard rock. Retiring for the day at dusk, the crew made merry around a fireplace and feasted on a sumptuous meal, the spicy aroma of which filled the night air.

Continuing the drilling next morning, the water came spouting out in full flow by noon causing the neighbours to gasp with envy while the owners gushed with pride. In no time the drilling crew had completed the task, packed and left, to answer the call of duty elsewhere.

In the ensuing days, the structural engineer came with the construction hands and got down to laying the foundation, digging away deep into the soil, leaving behind huge yawning pits. Into the pits were planted iron structures which soared into the sky, bearing all signs of a massive building to come up at the site.

While the watchman kept vigil over the iron structures left to set in the concrete bed, little did he know what the electric pole, to which his tarpaulin was tied, knew. That along with the rubble had been interred, a modest home whose living walls had absorbed, in a life of 40 years, the sounds of pattering feet, squ-eals of laughter mixed with joyful barking, bitter tears and a reluctant farewell.