A Day in the Life of a Manual Laborer Carrying Heavy Loads in the City

This report was prepared following an editorial review. Jeevan lives with his wife and children, all of whom work together as laborers. Despite their combined efforts, debts and daily expenses keep their life in a constant financial crisis. “Brother, what time do you usually sleep?” he asked. “At 10 pm,” I replied. “Then I won’t disturb you by carrying loads until 10,” he added. I refused. We were working on leveling the rooftop, where he had to carry sand and gravel from the ground up two floors. The contractor paid wages based on the amount of load carried. He focused on his work while I attended to mine. We ate dinner at 9 pm. I knew he had already eaten. “I just finished my snack, brother. I’ll eat soon; my wife is cooking,” he said. However, he left before 9 pm. Before leaving, he asked me to confirm the time I would wake up the next morning. He worked regular hours until 5 pm, then did overtime from 6 to 9 pm. When I was working abroad, I also used to work such hours. “I wake up around 4 am,” I said. The next morning, I opened the door at 4 am but barely showed concern as he hadn’t kept his promise. He was physically unwell and unable to walk properly. The rules that apply to everyone also applied to him. Yet, by 6 am, he suddenly appeared. “My whole day is ruined, brother,” he said. “Why?” I asked. “The gate didn’t open, but I brought a helper,” he replied. “Ela Rani, hurry up with the work,” he instructed his wife in Nepali and Magar languages. After about an hour of labor, he said, “Let’s go now, brother. I’ll eat after I return to the room, then go to duty.” They returned at 6:30 am. His wife quietly filled sandbags while he transported them upstairs. They carried bags of cement, sand, and gravel. On the way back, they tried to climb the two steps faster at once. I watched them, noticing he cradled their young daughter. At 7:30 am, the wife returned, and he began loading and carrying alone. At 8 am, I offered him water, which he refused. I insisted by preparing glucose water. “Yes, I have to drink water. Without water, kidneys get damaged. My brother died of kidney failure six years ago,” he shared. “What is your wife doing?” I asked. “She’s cooking. She opens the gate so I can stay late and work longer,” he said. “Until what time do you work?” I asked. “As long as I feel like it,” he replied. I didn’t see the need to set specific time boundaries. According to his contract, he sometimes carried gravel, sometimes sand. To keep count easier, he kept gravel in a separate bag. He kept banging bricks until I fell asleep; the next day was the same. Perhaps he hadn’t rested or his worries wouldn’t let him sleep. We also have little free time in the evenings. Putting the daughter to sleep and household chores end around 9 to 10 pm. After the food was ready, his wife called him to eat. “The food is ready in the room; you both can eat,” he replied with a smile and resumed work. At 10 pm, the sound of bellows piercing the silent street was heart-wrenching. Neighbors were all asleep. The tenant brother observed his hard labor with sympathy. He sighed deeply and said, “Where is this human chain? Some have no time to manage their properties; some wage contracts on such heavy loads!” I was silent. Sometimes silence is profound. I wanted to listen to the soundtrack of his life and write the tale of his ups and downs. It was past 10:30 pm when I left my phone to join him. His thrift-store shirt was soaked with dust and sweat, but his face barely showed perspiration—perhaps lighter than mine. “Until what time will you work?” I asked. “When do you sleep?” he countered. “Around 11 pm. I have to consider your labor,” I said. He asked again, “Did I disturb you?” “No, but…” I changed the subject halfway. “Go, rest today; do it again tomorrow. The body, gravel, sand, and cement are not the same. Rest is necessary.” Hearing this, he agreed. “What time do you get up in the morning?” “5 am.” “I should get up by 3 am!” I was stunned. “Don’t you need sleep?” “Three to four hours of sleep is enough. I always wake up at 3 am.” Incredible! 18 to 20 hours of labor and only 3 hours of rest! Who is exploiting this work? I remained silent. “I’ll leave the bicycle here,” he said as he left. “Why?” “There might be a locked gate; it’s not easy to manage.” “Doesn’t your wife open it?” “She works all day and must be exhausted; maybe she’s asleep.” I said nothing. “Brother, I’ll come in the morning.” After leaving the bicycle, he took his leave. *** The clattering sound of bricks rang out. “Are they stealing bricks?” Nearby, a new house was being built, where he had worked carrying sand all night. Indeed, he was laboring with every breath through the night. Turning on the house lights, the clock showed 4:10 am. Inside, the couple was slowly working while the laborer, exhausted and sleepless, continued his routine. This is the story of life, of a man born in 1993 BS (approx. 2036 AD), who lost his father at age 11, halting his education. His childhood was marked by civil war, and life itself played an unusual battle. Working abroad in Malaysia, he saved a little money and returned home. He joined farming with elderly family members, but debts and problems persisted. Struggling with big dreams for his children, Jeevan still seeks a single path to a better life. If he cannot sustain the household, he finds connections in his birthplace. “How many days a month do you work?” I asked. “From 14 days to one and a half months. One day off.” “How many hours a day?” “4 to 7 OT in the morning, 8 to 5 regular, 6:30 to 10 OT in the evening.” “How is the income?” “700 to 850 rupees daily. That’s what I earn monthly as well, but debts must be paid.” “How much debt?” “Five to seven lakh.” “How much interest?” “Sometimes more, sometimes less.” His story is one of many pains hidden within education and life struggles. “How much load do you carry?” “As long as my stomach forgets hunger and my body can bear it.” He dreams of saving capital to start a small farm, which would be better than this heavy labor. But circumstances compel him to continue daily manual labor. The human body and mind should not be exhausted, but his lifestyle allows no rest. His story is an endless tale of labor, struggle, and resilience. Among the city’s crowds, there is one laborer whose burden carries not only physical weight but also the hope and future of his family.