The sky remains pale
in any cityscape, only
clouds of hues are mobile;
the whimsical wind on its
course, splitting and
sifting them to nothingness.

Back in the 60s, youths
swarmed out of campus,
flaunting degrees to build
skills on a foothold;
went to the nearest job
counter, not that it was
a treasure chest; it held
the visa for entries-
banks.PSUs, research labs.
Birth eating its pound of
flesh before merit stepped in;
A stampede, leftovers
anxious for another try.

“The ratio of jobs to
demand was unequal”,
said the analyst.

Into the 70s with youth
cramming GK for GATE tests,
some losing the prize
with fumbling gait; Nay,
settled for a consolation
prize and a long conundrum.

“High-brow diplomas,
(forget diplomatic skills)
are needed” said the analyst.

The door banged on the face
in the 80s; prizes few
and the stampede not worth
a fig; The wind keeps
sifting the clouds to new
pastures.

In the 90s the eye was only
on the swaying in of the
millennium; software titillating
the ambitious; All too familiar
– the stampede, leftovers
on wayside, wind still
atop the hill.

“Let us hail the return
of the Big Bang” said he.

Note: The word “PSUs” stands for public sector units.