Jolly was innocent, Jolly was small

His mind, like a sponge, could soak in all

He went to the best school his parents could afford

With a brain like a new and sparkling board.

Many-a-chalk wrote on, in haste

Jolly got busy-no time to waste

No time to sing, no time to play

His bag got heavier by the day.

True and honest in every test

Jolly was always the very best

Trophies and medals filled up his room

Cheer in the air, no place for gloom.

Jolly turned a healer, the best in his age

His degrees filled more than half a page

His chase after them was wild obsess

His money grew more, his time grew less

The ways of life, the mysteries it had

Why people were happy, what mad them sad.

One day outside his hospital gate

An old man stood in eager wait

His eyes reflected his difficult life

At his feet heaved his ailing wife.

He tried all doors, to make her gain

Her failing health, but all in vain

Jolly, was his final hope

But for the penniless man, Jolly saw no scope.

At the end of the day, with a loaded account

Homeward he started with happiness abound

His smile soon faded, with voices loud

Outside his gate had gathered a crowd.

Curious steps, with curious mind

Jolly pushed his way from behind

On the pavement as the picture arose

His mouth went dry, his body froze.

His heart was weak, the poor old man

From pillar to post, for help he ran.

She died in the morn, was ill and old

But grief killed him..or so they told.

Jolly dragged himself back home

He couldn’t find a single tome

That taught him how to feel and touch

The pain of men, that hurt so much.

With heavy steps he himself led

To the fireplace, with his letterhead

He looked at it with no admire

His steady hand flung in the fire…

Parth Sharma | PGDM 2015-17