Put the three legged table by him
Spread a cloth as pure as your caring heart.
A glass for his pills, a foil pack of capsules
Clock, a bottle of water
That is all; now
You must all wait at a distance till the doctor arrives.
The master is sick.
This is a very dangerous disease, but still
If you can, let his wife know.
People say, wives don’t catch things
A couple of friends too, the kind
That can look on, expressionless
At the person on the bed by the white covered table
His eyes red with pain,
As he gets help with this and that.
The kind that sit down for five minutes and make him feel
happy
Then leave.
Whatever you do, try to do it quickly
You will not get this chance as easily, once he gets better.
Sarat Kumar Mukhopadhyay
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