Rural internship wasn’t a checklist on my degree — it was a reality check.
No network, no ACs, and sometimes, no medicines.
But there were people. So many people.
Walking miles just to be seen. Heard. Helped.
I remember an old man who brought jaggery as thanks.
A mother who waited 4 hours just to ask, “Is the fever dangerous?”
A little girl who waved at me like I was magic — just because I smiled.
You don’t realise how much trust weighs until it’s handed to you in a place where even Google hasn’t mapped all roads.
Out there, you’re not just an intern.
You’re hope in a white coat —even if you are running on re-used gloves, learning to heal with limited tools.