A visit to a hospital does not give us any kind of pleasure. It leaves a depressing effect on who visits it. A clash took place between two rival parties in which three persons received bullet injuries.
My father went to the hospital to enquire about the health of one of the injured. I accompanied him one day and saw the pitiable condition of patients in the ward, there were about 30 beds with patients either laying or ceclining. About half of a dozen of patients were moaning miserably and their condition was critical. One of them stopped moaning after about an hour and I was shocked to learn that he had expired. After a couple of hospital formalities, the dead body was handed over to his relatives. As I entered the heart of building, I saw scores of people lying in their bed. Ailing children were waiting, a few women suffering from some disease were lying out under a tree. They looked more like skeletons. An unconscious patient was being carried on a sketcher. Some boys were brought on cost with fractured bones. A profusely bleeding woman, injured in an accident, was being taken to the casually ward. There were some bandaged patients who winched with pain. The courtyard and the corrdors were crowded, and the sight of suffering was unbearable. As I came out of the hospital, I heaved a sigh of relief.
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