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Walked I have for miles,
In this state,
Drenched in pain and cold
As I stepped inside
The cold building
Daunting and almost ghostly

Sits there
The old doctor,
From a distant land
Of Tagore & Ojha
With empty stare
No soul present,
Only the TV set,

Only the old scar
The injury that walked,
Through the woods,
Across the ocean,
In that blistering cold,
Cannot prescribe you
Any medicine or remedy
You will have to carry it
As you carry
Your conscience and soul

Not even a tablet
I shall prescribe you
Let’s have a conversation
You belong to a strange land
Not here you belong,
And intrepid soul you are,
That’s all I know of you
Walk back across that path
Where you came from
The challenges you will have
Upon this journey, in abundance
You have chosen for yourself

Carry this pain and remember me
I was your doctor for few seconds
And in between the centuries
Of where we came from
Not here you belong,
In the distant future, remains
The old promise you made
When you were young
Return to that land
But what of the medicine
I enquired, in my last attempt
Cannot prescribe you
Any medicine or remedy
You must leave,
Belong here you don’t….



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