Cutting through the fields a narrow lane
led to the village health centre.
Aging adults hung around the porch
carrying in their arms some curious children.
They brought prasad from the village temple.
A doctor had joined after many months.
The specialist managed with a stethoscope,
dim light and fewer words; the humdrum
of a genial gossip was too much.
They huddled together for comfort.
The tailor had trouble with his joints,
village dai complained of heavy flow.
The sarpanch had heartburn,
and his son, recurring cold.
On her drive back to the town the doctor
noticed golden barley swaying and waved
at children running after her car.
She recalled she had asked for follow ups,
and ordered some blood checks.
But, the next day she sent her resignation.