Who Cares For The Caregiver

I watch her,
As she wipes the sweat
Off her brow,

I can hear her trying to
Hide her groaning pain

She kneads and kneads
Till the dough is supple and soft

Enough to feed
A family of four
Waiting impatiently.

I ask,
‘Didi, why don’t you
Visit a doctor?
You don’t look so good’

She says
‘Oh! This?
This is nothing’.

As she sweeps her pain
Neatly under the dinner table.
Out of earshot,
And our line of vision.

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