The Global Machine

a poem by Sheela Chalapathi ramananda, India

It is a universal fair of sorts
bartering all kinds of products.
Multistoried and multifaceted structures
beckon smart,unsuspecting youngsters
with short-term gains and long-term pains.

The naive,curious onlookers
who peep into the long corridors
that have a strange,foreign air
are immediatly sucked in
by a blast of globalised air.

And then the churning and swirling
by the global machine, demanding
all their energy and attention,
leaving very little or nothing
for life and procreation.

Giving them thousands and lakhs
the machine breaks their backs
Crushing them with work pressure.
In the tight-rope balancing of work-life
it is only work,with little or no life.

Confused by exposure to an alien culture
the youngsters reject their own culture.
The pseudonyms and fictitious role plays
render them emotionally and socially crippled
with families weakened by work-pressure tripled

(this is the experience of many of my students who have taken up jobs in call centers.)

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