FIITJEE! They say it aloud,
Is best for preparation,
And IIT for engineering.
The height of match making got crossed,
When they chose a boy for the same.
Here's about a jolly boy
Who had a zillion dreams
His thoughts were musical
He spotted melody even in screams.
His footsteps had rhythm,
He never got tired of hopping around.
He believed the past had passed,
And would never have an effect on the present him.
Little did he know, in his melodious land of dreams,
Didn't lay his future.
Something else was waiting for him to be imposed on,
He wasn't even familiar with its texture.
He didn't choose engineering life.
Engineering didn't choose him either.
All watched in silence,
While the courage to deny he couldn't gather.
Nobody got the intuition to understand him, true!
But at least they could have asked him,
" My child, what do you want to do?"
This was all imposed on him when he wasn't even able to take his stand,
They took away his beloved guitar and replaced it with big, fat books in his hand.
One by one he gave up on all his dreams.
He became silent outside, but a lot was there in his silent screams.
He was left with no tears.
As they all got used up,
But none of the rigid hearts they could pierce.
This is all he could utter after his passion was murdered,
" I had to mug up the formulas all the time.
You designed a born guitarist to become an engineer,
This life doesn't seems mine!"
Finally, the boy wasn't happy on his own convocation.
Dreams were not just killed,
They were suffocated to death by others' expectations.
