The railway station was alive with subtle chaos yesterday morning. I arrived early to pick up my son. Sunlight streamed through high windows, casting long shadows across the platform, while a faint hum of distant trains filled the air.

High above, near the towering ceiling, a middle-aged woman wielded a long broomstick. Each sweep echoed against the roof, a hollow, rhythmic sound that seemed to mark time itself. Dust floated in the morning light, catching like tiny stars. Most commuters passed by without noticing, their eyes glued to phones, tickets, or fleeting thoughts.

Then it happened. A sudden jerk!. Her hand shot to her eyes. She rubbed furiously, blinking against some invisible intruder. A grain, a speck, something had fallen where it should not. And yet, after a few seconds, she lifted the broom again, continuing her work as if pain or risk were luxuries she could not afford.

Around us, the loudspeaker crackled, announcing train arrivals and departures in multiple languages. A rhythmic, chaotic orchestra of sound, human motion, and purpose.

Commuters glanced briefly at her, then walked on. Some paused, then turned back to screens, ignoring the subtle drama above them.

I approached and asked in Hindi, Amma, why are you not wearing any protective gear?” She paused, glanced at me, then quietly shook her head. No answer.

I wished her festive greetings and continued my walk, but a thought had lodged itself in my mind, sharp and insistent:

How many others face this every day?

Street sweepers brushing dust into their lungs.

Factory workers standing perilously close to machines.

Domestic helpers stretching to reach high shelves without gloves or masks.

Are they being provided gear, or is it assumed they will endure? And if something goes wrong, who bears responsibility- the employer, the employee, society. or no one at all?

In most factories, safety gear is mandated, yet in other sectors, in households, in streets, is safety still a privilege? Or a forgotten detail?

And then the lesson hit me, sharp and clear: this is not just about safety gear. It is about attention, empathy, and responsibility. Action, effort, and safety are fragile, often overlooked. It is about seeing, noticing, caring, and taking responsibility.

For Leaders: True responsibility is not merely assigning tasks—it is ensuring those who execute them are safe, seen, and respected.

For Supervisors: Safety is not a checklist; it is a constant, mindful practice.

For Society: Empathy begins where attention begins. Noticing the invisible toil that keeps our world moving.

For Households: The people who clean, cook, or care for our home—their safety matters as much as the work they do for us.

A broomstick tapping against the ceiling, the hum of approaching trains, loud announcements in multiple tongues, fleeting glances from commuters, a moment of pain… Yet the echo lingers.

It whispers a truth: leadership, empathy, and responsibility begin when we notice what is often unseen.

Next time we pass by someone quietly doing their work, let us ask ourself:

Have we done enough to protect them?