Since class eight, the dream took flight —
“To be a doctor, to heal, to fight.”
A white coat shining, a heart that mends,
A journey of service that never ends.
 
We thought life was set after NEET,
Just one exam, one race to beat.
Distractions gone, ambition high,
But was that the truth, or just a lie?
 
The white coat rests upon my frame,
But nothing inside feels the same.
An endless syllabus, expectations tight,
A first-generation medico — lost in the night.
 
We bow to cadavers in anatomy’s hall,
Through formalin winds, we endure it all.
Journals copied, deadlines near,
But is this “learning,” or just fear?
 
Attendance is marked, yet minds drift away,
Who sees the student absent that day?
Good grades hide the battles inside,
Mental health masked, with nowhere to confide.
 
Patients reduced to “Bed No. 29,”
Not a frightened child, with a story, a sign.
We treat the fever, discharge the pain,
But the cause outside still stays the same.
 
Drugs prescribed with measured precision,
Yet poverty silences the best intention.
If health is shaped by the lives we lead,
Why aren’t we taught to see the need?
 
PG becomes the next great chase,
Notes and MCQs replace the face.
But the greatest teacher waits unheard,
Each patient’s story, each spoken word.
 
And so we ask — what should it be?
Not just 19 subjects and a degree.
But growth of mind, of heart, of voice,
An education that gives us choice.
 
Professors not celebrities rare,
But mentors with wisdom, presence, and care.
A system that values listening and guide,
Not just marks that students hide.
 
The white coat holds sweat, blood, and tears,
A trial of courage, a fight through fears.
I dream of a path where we heal, not just try —
To serve with compassion, to ask-
 How? What? When? Why?
Edited by Christianez Ratna Kiruba
Image by Christianez Ratna Kiruba