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Another morning for Aleya Bua at Uttara house. Abrar is getting ready for school.
Aleya Bua is preparing snacks for his recess; she just woke him up and serving him breaksfast; she is even making sure Abrar’s ‘prefect badge’ and ‘lab-coat’ is in his school bag. Aleya Bua is doing this with such care, sincerity and love - one could do this only for her own child. She had been doing these chores (and many others) for Abrar ever since he was a baby; he is like her own son.

Aleya bua is with this family for 25 years; she told me her own grandchild does not recognize her well when she goes back home. She considers this as her family.

Aleya bua, Phulmoti bua or Rebeka – we need them in our everyday life; they are like our shadows; sometimes, they even move like shadows; they become nameless; they nurture our children, they cook and feed them and us, they clean and carry on our household chores, they make sure we have sane and systematic life and work.

I was wondering what happens to these caregivers when they get older and too weak to serve? We give them some good amount of money – they can start on their own business (so that they are not “maid” any more); and, we feel satisfied with ourselves.

But, do we or can we “ever” repay their selfless love and act for our children – for entrusting our child’s wellbeing with them? Do we even try?
Do they get any social recognition when my child is busking in glory @ school or in life? Are they being remembered as second mother?

I know there is no social obligation for that.

Do we really believe in equality in people?