Today’s babe, precious tho’ lands in a crèche!
Pre-nursery school as mother’s off to work;
Using a walker, it is bottle-fresh;
Learns a huge load of books by the rod’s jerk.
Glued to the computer, it plays less out;
Pining for mother’s love sleeps on the floor;
Victim of frequent colds and fever-bout,
Its body and mind get stressed all the more.
While children chant rhymes, the teachers gossip;
Oh, what a shameful way, they are being taught!
Beaten oft black and blue, even by a whip!
Parents too neglect them, when they should not.
Victims of crimes/ abuse, children today,
Are like nipped flower-buds, crushed in some way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem