Grim-faced, sweaty, tired, downtrodden in the worst possible way, they squatted in a row at the entrance, mumbling to themselves and shuffling around in a vain attempt at comfort. Through sunken eyes, they looked at the world around them, a world that no longer held any surprises, any traces of joy or beauty. I wondered why anyone would willingly choose to bear the burden they did, hour after hour, day after day. For they, in the most literal sense, bore the burden of humanity. A humanity that first failed them, and then mocked at their misery in the crudest fashion, by forcing them to bend under the weight of their fellow humans for a living. Making them scurry around like rats, at the beck and call of their more privileged kin who they ferried on their shoulders on makeshift palanquins. More often than not, the occupiers of these cushioned seats on bamboo sticks were the stereotypical 'behenjis' and 'auntyjis', mildly obese, clad in flashy sarees & munching on sna