Monday, March 23, 2009


Selling their days, brothers in trade,
Toiling dogmatically to earn more butter than the bread;

Across winds of virtues aiding their frantic navigations,
Emblems of opulence act as their inspirations;
Personas polished, collars stiff and polished is their gear,
Jargons of trade on their tongues and sophistication in the air;
Aggressively they ascend the organization chair after chair,
In the race of takings they want to be their employer’s darling mare;

Fascinated by figures and with eyes glued on to trends,
Graphs, quarters and dollars are their objects of intend;
Perks, appraisals and parties graced with plastic smiles,
In the queen’s language are displayed traits virile;

Hours twenty five in a day and days eight in a week,
With eager information at their fingertips complacent moments are bleak;
Years pass like months and months flutter like weeks,
Crusading through decades their desires never grow weak;

When the sun begins to set at the horizons of their lives,
Their experienced minds meticulously to solve closing calculations strive;
Nostalgia reigns and raises questions, all of them but "Why?"
They are executives selling time for all the money they buy.

1 comment:

Vrushali said...

Hey Sanket, both your poems are too good. Just a small question, what makes you think the way you think? Your literature truly reflects your clean and transparent thoughts filled with emulation.
I seriously appreciate your work wholeheartedly!