Spare a thought for those who stand and serve - The Statesman

In the great theatre of human civilization, where skyscrapers rise into the clouds, lights blaze through the darkness, and societies buzz with relentless motion, there exists an often

invisible presence – silent, steady, and stoic the security personnel.

In the great theatre of human civilization, where skyscrapers rise into the clouds, lights blaze through the darkness, and societies buzz with relentless motion, there exists an often

invisible presence – silent, steady, and stoic the security personnel. These men and women, often unnoticed and uncelebrated, stand like sentinels in the shadows of our lives, safeguarding

our homes, offices, banks, schools, and dreams. Yet, paradoxically, those who guard our lives and properties remain themselves unguarded vulnerable, neglected, and forgotten. This is not

just an occupational irony.

It is a social tragedy, a human rights concern, and a collective failure of empathy. To understand the grievances of these unsung heroes, one must first understand the invisible burdens they

carry and the silent sacrifices they make. Walk past any gated community, commercial complex, or hospital, and you are likely to see a man with grey hair, slightly hunched shoulders, and a

tired smile. That man, often past the age of sixty, is a former soldier, police officer, factory worker, or government employee who has completed one lifetime of service and has now entered

a second one not by choice, but by compulsion. Retirement, in its ideal form, is meant to be a reward for years of labour a time for rest, reflection, and peace.

But for many retired individuals, pensions are insufficient or nonexistent. Rising medical expenses, inflation, family responsibilities, and the burden of survival push them back into the

workforce. And the only job they are often deemed fit for is that of a security guard. They do not complain. The soldier who once guarded national borders now guards residential gates with

the same sense of duty. The man who once managed a file desk now checks ID cards. But deep within, there is a wound a quiet humiliation of having to stand for hours, salute disrespectful

youngsters, and work under people who may be half their age but twice as indifferent. The word “security” evokes images of safety, assurance, and protection. Yet, for the security guard, his

own life is anything but secure. Most guards are employed by private security agencies that treat human beings as commodities. Contracts are casual, jobs are temporary, and dismissals are

frequent.

There are no long-term benefits, no pension, no provision for future security. One minor illness, one misjudged incident, or even one absent day can mean job termination. Even worse, there

is no union, no legal support, and no voice. These individuals, whose job is to be alert and attentive to every small danger, have no forum where their own complaints can be heard. Their

names are rarely remembered, and their needs are never prioritized. A society that builds high walls and installs surveillance cameras, yet fails to provide dignity and protection to its

human sentries, must ask itself: Are we truly secure, or are we simply blind? One of the most glaring injustices faced by security personnel is the imbalance between their duty and their

reward.

The average guard works twelve to fourteen hours a day, sometimes without a proper break or even a chair to sit on. Their duties are repetitive, tiring, and mentally exhausting. In

residential buildings, they must greet every resident with respect – whether they receive it in return or not. In offices, they must maintain registers, monitor CCTV footage, and sometimes

take on responsibilities far beyond their training. And what do they earn for this relentless grind? Often, a salary that is barely enough to buy essentials. Forget luxuries – these workers

struggle for basic needs like food, medicine, rent, and school fees for their children. They are usually paid once a month, in cash, without payslips or benefits. There are no bonuses, no

allowances for night duty, and no overtime – just a flat, meagre sum that reduces their immense labour to a trivial figure. Many guards work two shifts to make ends meet.

Sleep becomes a luxury. Illnesses are ignored. Festive days are just another working day. They miss family functions, weddings, and even funerals – standing at gates while others celebrate

inside. Perhaps the most painful part of being a security guard is the invisibility. People see the uniform but not the human being inside. They are seldom addressed by name – only as

“guard,” “security,” or with a dismissive wave. They are often spoken to in commanding tones, rarely thanked, and sometimes even blamed for things beyond their control. This loss of identity

is deeply wounding, especially for those who have lived rich, dignified lives before. A retired army man, once respected in uniform, now finds himself disrespected by teenagers in flashy

cars.

A former office clerk who managed dozens of files is now told to open and close doors without acknowledgment. And yet, most of them bear this quietly. There is no rebellion, no demand. Just

a silent acceptance of fate, like a candle that continues to burn despite the wind. Security personnel are often posted in harsh environments – uncovered outdoor posts during extreme summer

heat, mosquito-ridden nights, or freezing winter mornings. Many suffer from arthritis, blood pressure, diabetes, and other age-related illnesses but continue to work without medical

insurance or access to clinics. If a guard falls ill during duty, there is no provision for sick leave. Agencies either replace them without notice or deduct from their salary.

If a guard is injured – say, during an attempted theft or due to a fall – there is no guaranteed compensation. Mental health is a bigger, unspoken crisis. The long hours, the loneliness, the

disrespect, and the financial pressure take a heavy toll on their minds. There is no counselling, no emotional support, and no place to share their pain. If a society is judged by how it

treats its most invisible workers, then our treatment of security guards is a moral failure. But it is not too late to acknowledge, respect, and reform. There should be well-defined laws

that ensure minimum wages, job security, and protection from arbitrary dismissal. Access to health insurance, pension schemes, and employee state insurance must be mandatory. Elderly guards

should be given seating and less physically taxing duties, especially indoors. Many security guards perform jobs beyond their training. Regular training programmes can enhance their dignity

and capability. Every citizen must learn to treat guards with basic courtesy.

A “thank you,” a smile, or a short conversation can go a long way. Security guards should be included in building meetings and decisions that affect their daily work. Their feedback should

be valued. Security personnel are not machines. They are fathers, grandfathers, mothers, widows, and survivors. Behind each uniform is a lifetime of stories – of struggle, of service, of

sacrifice. They stand alone at night while we sleep. They brave sun and rain while we work in air-conditioned rooms. They watch the gate while we attend weddings, celebrate birthdays, and

enjoy holidays. The least we can offer them is respect, recognition, and rights. Let us not be a society that builds secure homes but fails to secure the lives of those who guard them. Let

us become a culture that honours every human being – especially those who stand in silence so we can live in peace. For in securing the life of a security guard, we secure the soul of our

humanity.