Load

As the sun was planning a trip below the skyline, the streets thrummed with the familiar chaos of rush hour traffic around office building. Winter was somewhere close by, according to experts. The darkening sky at 6 PM dropped a similar hint. 

I was in the massive lobby, waiting for my fellow badminton players leaving work.

Waiting along with me was a young porter. Biding his time, for the people to leave the giant revolving doors, he strained against the weight of two big pieces of luggage, each bag a reminder of someone’s journey. His muscles tightened as he slowly dragged the cumbersome load toward the exit. To the casual observer, his struggle was visible, a physical manifestation of labor. May be each piece he dragged held stories, of families reuniting, business ventures launching, and adventures beginning. 

‘Who checked in to work with all that?’ I wondered. 

How heavy must that be?

Meanwhile, a middle-aged delivery man navigated the steps, balancing multiple packages stacked precariously in his hands and a short neck straining to see over his load. His brow was furrowed in concentration, sweat glistening on his forehead. Somebody who was still at work, had ordered pizza at 6 PM! 

His hands barely managed the precarious stack. 

I stepped out after the young porter.

At the bus stop, a woman stood, her headscarf fluttering in the brisk still hot wind. Lost in her thoughts, she was unaware of the world around her. She didn’t seem to notice the bus waiting for her or the taxi drivers signaling potential travelers through brief taps on the car horn. In her stillness, she carried a weight that transcended the physical.

In the city’s symphony of movement, the young porter, the delivery guy and this girl seemed connected. Or so I thought.

In a bustling city where burdens are often measured by visibility, the question of who carried the heavier load, will remain unknown.