He sat with the mallet and chisel
Chipping away at the marble with precision
The sun was ablaze
His furrowed brow sweaty
As he laboured diligently
And worked tirelessly
Creating intricate patterns.
There were scores working like him
Giving shape to the emperor’s dream
A monument for his beloved
Carved in the labourer’s sweat and blood.
Centuries later as people pay visit
And sing paeans to the beauty of the Taj Mahal
They forget the hardworking person
Who wielded the mallet and chisel.