Light steps taken through teenage and out,
Into the labyrinth of knowledge immense.
The days he spent were rigorous & tough,
Enlightenment sought for a spiritual dance.
Six years went by and more eventually will.
The eternal student in the medical field.
Harrowing swiftly over his patients of old,
And sick and depleted and demented and cold.
He earned his due over their recovery, well
A touch of satisfaction akin divinity's swell.
Higher powers of cure none else could whim,
But wait, the pack made a all-knowing of him.
"How could he not cure the morbid of ills?
What use of his nobility if the reaper won still?"
And it was then that the violence did start!
With bare hands, metal bars and no holds bar!
He survived, near death_just mortal he was,
The in-fights & dog-fights & fist-fights too much.
With loss of faith and beliefs in shambles,
The young doctor, yet arose atop all scandals!
Distraught and desolate yet dauntless in will
He hopes for his servitude to have a meaning, still!
Written in solidarity with the doctor fraternity in India. The young gun, the best minds of the country .. being subjected to violence at the hands of those that, in their griveous hurt_ take it all out on the young doctor. For no fault of his.
