here you go // yeh lo
a room for two (or more)
an entire family, perhaps
(if i’m feeling generous)
detached, distanced and disparaged
just like our relationship – unseen
the way our society calls for it to be.
you will take care of my children,
maybe even more so than the woman who bore them
while she is preoccupied with her tailor
our dinner parties, and other unnecessary chores:
you will be the one wiping shit off of our children’s bodies
as if they were your own.
you will hear the bell of the intercom
at four in the morning
my voice, husky and disoriented
demanding you for my sehri
but you are not of the same faith as we –
so why make you suffer, alongside my family?
you must not be seen for long periods of time
when others are nearby,
‘log kya sochain gay?’ is what the madam will always say
when our children will look to you for care
and you remain submissive and complacent,
to pay for your father’s hospital bills
with your inherent lack of formal education.
with time, my children will learn to speak to you
the way i do,
angrily and annoyed at your humanness
that when you finally break down and cry:
chup ho jao! or i will decrease your wages
(that were already lower than your worth).
and no matter how much you put on the line
at the end of it all,
i am too privileged to ever know what poverty feels like.
you were never mine
(even though i treat you like my property)
and you will forever remain
a maid, an aaya and a servant in my mind.
“the only shaytaan that exists this ramzan, is I.”
art: unknown (if you know who the artist is, please let me know).