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Hypocrites’ oath

Dirt-cheep  government clinics  treat death
And disease just like they are  dirt and refuse
Which in a way is just about  fine.

Today’s  multi specialities,  housing as they are ,
A subtle tree branching off into labs,
A stethoscope hanging from every crotch of its,
Pre-set to prescribe a slew of tests whether it’s
Common cold or cancer,
Ninety-year-old or tiny tot,
Sugar coating their contempt for the medically illiterate
By glorifying life and ridiculing death and selling it to us
For a vulgar price, often a fortune for a sniffles.

How would they not? When folks  are willing
To sell off  homesteads to treat a harmless swelling.

Here, in one such, folks sit cursing their ‘fate’ology
Before a board which says Neurology
Like the rare cucumber slice floating about
In  its chic eatery’s sambhar* hot. Thinking of how, once out,
They  could wear the physician’s famous name around
Like a red and yellow flower garland
Bought at the wayside stall at a price, a hundred 
Times over what the farmer who  grew them got .

The good old physician seems gone, genial , suave,
Sitting in his modest office, respecting  your illness, 
Your money and the Hippocrates’  oath more than you
Which the new crowd  misspell as Hypocrites’ oath too
Not because they did not pass the spelling bee
But  acquired  the all important degree
And  an incurable greed for money.

11th Sept 14
Form: free verse

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