Migrant Nightmares

This evening, I read an article in the Guardian co-written by PhD supervisor about Romanians labourers being airlifted to Germany despite the lockdown in both countries for the summer harvest. I felt a lump form in my throat as I read the story. Stories of the plight of migrant labourers abound. In India, tens of millions of migrant labourers are stranded with little to eat or drink, and continuously hounded by the police. Twitter is full of clips of weeping labourers desperate to get home. And these are people whose living conditions in ordinary circumstances would make people like us quail. These are people used to the tribulations and indignities that come with being a poor migrant in possibly one of the most hidebound and hierarchical societies in the world. So, just imagine the hell they are going through.
Since I am an immigrant now, stories of migrants strike a chord with  me. They simultaneously remind me of our inferior status as immigrants and my significant privilege compared to working class migrants. I am aware that the only reason I am not in their shoes is my good fortune to be born in a well-to-do family.
I wonder if this is the crisis that will tear the fabric of colonial pride in Britain and the caste system in India. Both bring order to their respective societies, even if it is an oppressive, exploitative order. For there to be peace,  lower  castes and immigrants must accept their subordinate position in society. Will the continue to do so after this crisis? Will migrant labourers return when the economy reopens? Or will fear and anger keep them away?