‘Tiger’ Chole and Queen’s English;
Braided silk smoothened in oil;
We the registrars and our gibberish,
Refining ourselves thro’ all the turmoil.

Looks down at us above the lens
And the specs travels up his nose;
With direction, plan and sense
His finger tip perfecting the pose.

Measured steps of simple elegance
Treading down the silken trail
Oh the man and his mends
One of chosen o’ the CMC grail.

As he trudged with fire and scalpel
All our ides he sewed with ease.
Taught us practice and its principle
So we could all our patients please!

To hold, he taught us
To sew and knot!
Crisp, curt without much fuss
In all what we ought.

And more than cutting and the sewing
As life’s curly paths we trod
Along our slow learning and knowing
Was his firm directional prod.

For this and those and ever so many
Cuts and bruises and slices fair
That trimmed and polished and made us shiny
Can anyone be less thankful, I dare.

Altho’ he would ne’er e’er celebrate
Love or his Love’s refrain a day;
Pearl harbor he said was fate!
And to all questions the answer was Nay!

On a day drunk with work
Chandy, he, sleep and I
Loosened a neuron in his quirk
As he with honesty got high.

Stories of love rattled away
In the deep desk of Palace Café
The clinical pathologist and her sway
A tiny peep, you might say!

And in the end in all our lives
For what we stand and what we are
As we travel those many miles
We carry a little bit of VSR!