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