The Suffered. Poem by Gangadharan nair Pulingat..

He was an old gentleman living in neighborhood
With his second wife with no siblings
He was so poor, but proud themselves
kept their poverty as their own concern
Tried their best to make a living,
From selling the vegetables they cultivated.

Almost all Wednesday they went for market
To sell their vegetables in the little basket
Bought back some groceries and edible oil
For eking out a life in perfect calm and happiness
We found them in such a contented couples.

In that particular early morning, I remember
The old gentleman came to our house
He has got a dog bite in his leg and injured
Which I promptly advised for the injections
With his beliefs and confidence neglected.

Days passed, and one day such an early morning
The old lady the wife of the gentleman
Came to my house and informed the body language
Of her dear husband is in danger, unable to drink
The morning tea while seeing became angry.

Days passed, it was a case of rabbis
No where a curing solution for a patient
Who died in such a horrible atmosphere I remember
The poor gentleman in his most suffering end.