9th of August, 2024; Kolkata

 

And night falls, 

The stars grow dim. 

The corridor lights 

They gently swing. 

Their solemn sway 

And a tiny flicker

Evil comes this way, 

It’s footsteps now quicker.

The art of healing 

And of revealing a lie, 

Will be paid in blood, 

A price too high? 

The silence of the halls, 

At the end of my shift,

Echo louder at dark, 

 As I walk, sure and swift. 

To be caught between a wall, 

And a black veined hand, 

This mouth now stifled, 

And I can no longer stand. 

A broken bone here, 

And a bloodied eye, 

These tear ducts now dry, 

No more tears to cry… 

On the morrow, rises the sun 

And they filter in one by one. 

This stiffened corpse lies 

On a mattress, all undone. 

Frantic, frenzied calls 

And a story to tell, 

Of a fevered imagination

And truth to quell. 

The white blanket of red 

They pull over my face 

With the autopsy complete;

Begins my tragic case. 

A suicide, was it? 

Or an ‘unnatural death’ 

Too many unanswered questions 

As they lay the wreath. 

Two lonely figures stand 

Too late to stop the hearse 

Theirs is not to grieve 

But to lament this terrible curse. 

Hopes and dreams, 

Drowned in unholy screams, 

In the darkened hospital rooms; 

Nothing is quite as it seems.