The IT firms from the colleges hire
the high achievers in shifts to perspire.
The payola the colleges collect
and the payouts of the firms the young hands wet.
They live on their nerves with hopes to migrate
and be off soon their roots to desecrate.
From a caste-ridden nation they take wing
and in a cultural mire they themselves sling.
They lose filial love but not their courage
as the English breeze ensures all the suffrage.
when we don't have opportunities on our soil, what to do? whom to blame? the young graduates or the government? a sincere poem on the inability of Indians and India!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
India - largest exporter of IT profsnls! IITs - world's techie factories! But someday, our country too will be able to get the fruit of our labour. Some day...!