I came to the flour mill this morning. With my shikai and ritha. For my hairwash. I stood outside on the footpath. unable to bear the deafening noise of the machines.
The two men there live in this unbearable noise through the day. 7am to 7pm. Damaging their hearing, wellbeing and sanity.
Was remembering my days in the tribal villages in Naramada. Where every morning the women would sit on their grinding stones grinding jowar into flour for the days rotis. Investing time and effort for their own needs.
In my own village Lakshmamma telling me. How in her childhood every eveningm after a hard day in the fields, they would pound paddy for the next days rice. Those were the days before electricity and machines.
When we cease to labour for our own needs, we externalize the work. And someone else pays the cost. Dearly.
Usually too far away for us to see, understand, realize and correct ourselves.
The simpler our lifestyle, the more we do our own work, the less we exploit another.
The more we engage with those who sustain us, the more we understand many realities. For that we need to step out of bubbles like AC cars, and home deliveries and nowadays, online shoppings.
It a long walk. Where the personal and the political have to go together. As we collectively craft the long path away from the Bhasmasura of Modernity and back into traditional ways, and traditional sustainabilities. Taking on a far simpler and 'harder' lifestyle.
If we will.
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