There were shattered roof tops made of tin lying on ground torn apart, the road was filled with utensils, toys, and carcasses of what was once a slum, unlike every day, when all I could see on the road was dry leaves and twigs.

I couldn’t see sadness in the people there, just defeat. Those that had lost their homes hours ago were sitting there, not with sadness nor anger, they were just sitting on the footpath. I would think if I had been in their shoes, I would be wailing out tears or shouting at the top of my throat. But this was unlike anything I had ever thought. Some were smiling, why would they smile, I asked myself. They possibly can’t, for they had just lost everything they believed to be their homes and lives. Why would they smile?

As I walked further I saw them, In groups. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but I could see smirks on their faces, a sense of satisfaction, of victory. No one would dare go near them, their khakis scared everyone. The khakis, which are supposed to be a symbol of protection, are not protecting today. Maybe the soldiers are so used to battlefields, all they can see is a defeated enemy.

There was a lady, carrying a child in her arms. She was standing beside a huge gathering, with people shouting, police on one side and the recently homeless on the other side. It was as if a fight would break out anytime now, but she stood there with a child in her arms, completely vulnerable, yet very bravely. Her eyes were full of anger. “I couldn’t decide if I had to be with my child or get into my house and get my things out while they were running it into the ground” she said, almost breaking into tears when I asked her how it had happened.

As I was conversing with this lady, an old man came to my side and with a smile on his face, pointed out the party workers of the opposition party that had just arrived and said “Why are they coming now? Why couldn’t they come early?”. I had no answers for that. Why couldn’t they come early? Maybe they were as clueless as the people here? Maybe?

I asked the old man, “Did you not know this was going to happen? They must have given some kind of notice”. “Yes, they arrived once before, but they didn’t do anything, this time they just took down everything. They got five JCBs with them.” as he answered, his smile was slowly fading away. “If they had shown us any other place and asked us to leave, we would have. We just came here to earn our livelihoods, where should we go now?” the lady with the child said, with tears about to roll down her cheek. All I could do in that moment was nod and look at her in silence. “How long were you living here for?” I asked the old man. “Twenty-five years,” he said, with a sense of pride. “You see these buildings? I have been living here since before they were made, there was nothing here at that time.” He said looking at the huge buildings that surrounded the slum.

A young man, in his twenties, came running to the arresting man. “Come on let's leave, they already took two people in and put them in their vans” he said smiling, “Are they arresting people now?” I asked. “Yeah, they will take a few people with them now”, he said with the same smile. It was at that moment I realized what felt like battle of a lifetime for me was just another day for them, they had gotten so used to it happening to them, that they just smiled and kept moving forward.

On my way back I came across two young women in khaki churidars walking together, they weren’t like the others I had seen before. They were talking about something, I could just hear their murmurs, but there was a sadness in their tone and remorse in their eyes, maybe these were the soldiers that saw the cost of their victory and decided not to celebrate.

.    .    .