written by: Bilquis Fatima
She too has dreams, dreams of her own
Of a respectable income and a warm abode,
But unfortunately, adversities bring her to your house
To help you in your daily chores,
Where she relentlessly swipes and mops the floors,
And stretches and bends to scrub and dust
For sustaining her family, this labour is a must.
Like all others, she too has her bad days
And things do slip through her fingers and break
Keeping a stoic face, she silently listens to your chidings,
For how would you fathom what pain she was hiding,
And goes on with the work at an alarming pace
Unmindful of her callused palms and rough skin
Just praying, to her meager wage there wouldn’t be a slashing.
She lays the table with palatable food in sparkling dishes,
Dancing to the tune of your whimsical wishes,
While she quickly gobbles hers sitting on the floor
For she should hurry to complete unending chores
And return home to cook for her kids waiting at the door.
While you relax and feel empowered to decide upon her salary,
But what about her who lives and dies in stifling scarcity?
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