Indians go live in a western land,
immigrate to a new nation.
Smartly dressed, pant shirt pressed, they,
Arrive with thorough preparation

Passport, visa, identity proof,
people standing in queue port is choc-a-bloc,
Showing legal docs all phones switched off, and
praying fingers interlocked.

Women and Men cautious left and right,
their face annoyed and dense.
Fearful looking black tired eyes, with
future shrouded in suspense.

They took big risks,
they were searched and frisked,
one belief kept them going.
In this land filled with,
opportunity and wealth,
seeds of growth we'll be sowing.

We are immigrants,
we all want to;
build new lives from scratch.
Make our nest in the western tree,where
eggs of dreams and ambitions will hatch.

Note: Just telling a trend.

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