“You must write about this.”
The deputies have their own Ragasthan group on Whatsapp. Seniors not invited. I guess it’s the modern day equivalent of the office water cooler where employees gather on breaks to gossip about their evil bosses.
Except that their phones beep-boop all day. They send each other messages even when they’re sitting face to face. I've heard Deputy N actually say 'LOL'.
It’s a little disturbing. I can’t quite figure whether technology has connected or disconnected them.
Already, there is talk of dissent within the ranks. The teams in Mumbai and Jaisalmer have formed their own factions. I overhear some name-calling and friendly ribbing. Everybody’s out to get the other. It sounds like war. And it’s all happening on screens smaller than my palm.
Deputy V sits toying with his phone like a cat with a mouse. He’s the admin. If somebody breaks the peace, spams the chat or generally annoys him, he’s going to kick them out of the group. He smirks.
The deputies kick back, stretch their toes and laugh.
That’s when they tell me I should write about this.
This is three days ago. It’s the first day of work on the site. It’s not been a good day so far. The tractor has failed spectacularly and the JCB is on the verge of breakdown. The deputies have come back to the camp for lunch.
Lunch has gone on for more than two hours.
Kaptaan is still at the site. He’s furious.
The next day onwards, the deputies have been up by six. Some by five. They are at the breakfast table by 6:30. At the site by 7:30. Lunch is sent to the site in a large dabba. They grab a couple of quick bites on the field. Then it’s back to work.
Then it’s the sun in your eyes, the maddening heat on your back, sand in your mouth and thorns in your feet till the stars are up.
The deputies have shown extreme perseverance through it all.
The team gets back to the camp only by 8:30 in the evening. Most hurry through dinner, update their job lists and make the requisite phone calls. Some brave the chilled water for a bath. A few linger over drinks at the nightly round-table. Pretty soon, everybody drops like corpses.
But before they do, I like to think that the silent night still rings with a hushed series of beep-boops for a while.
The deputies have their own Ragasthan group on Whatsapp. Seniors not invited. I guess it’s the modern day equivalent of the office water cooler where employees gather on breaks to gossip about their evil bosses.
Except that their phones beep-boop all day. They send each other messages even when they’re sitting face to face. I've heard Deputy N actually say 'LOL'.
And at the end of a conversation, they bend their head sideways and smile. :)
It’s a little disturbing. I can’t quite figure whether technology has connected or disconnected them.
Already, there is talk of dissent within the ranks. The teams in Mumbai and Jaisalmer have formed their own factions. I overhear some name-calling and friendly ribbing. Everybody’s out to get the other. It sounds like war. And it’s all happening on screens smaller than my palm.
Deputy V sits toying with his phone like a cat with a mouse. He’s the admin. If somebody breaks the peace, spams the chat or generally annoys him, he’s going to kick them out of the group. He smirks.
The deputies kick back, stretch their toes and laugh.
That’s when they tell me I should write about this.
This is three days ago. It’s the first day of work on the site. It’s not been a good day so far. The tractor has failed spectacularly and the JCB is on the verge of breakdown. The deputies have come back to the camp for lunch.
Lunch has gone on for more than two hours.
Kaptaan is still at the site. He’s furious.
The next day onwards, the deputies have been up by six. Some by five. They are at the breakfast table by 6:30. At the site by 7:30. Lunch is sent to the site in a large dabba. They grab a couple of quick bites on the field. Then it’s back to work.
Then it’s the sun in your eyes, the maddening heat on your back, sand in your mouth and thorns in your feet till the stars are up.
The deputies have shown extreme perseverance through it all.
The team gets back to the camp only by 8:30 in the evening. Most hurry through dinner, update their job lists and make the requisite phone calls. Some brave the chilled water for a bath. A few linger over drinks at the nightly round-table. Pretty soon, everybody drops like corpses.
But before they do, I like to think that the silent night still rings with a hushed series of beep-boops for a while.
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