सब सवालों को बदला लिया जाएगा,।
चलते चलते थे पांव में पड़ गए
सारे छाले का बदला लिया जाएगा ।
चुनाव के बाद जनता के "आवभगत"
करने वालों से बदला लिया जाएगा ।
इस चुनाव में सभी 'कर्महिन्न' बातों पर
अमल कर साता के चाह रखने वालों से
उन्हीं के अंदाज़ में बदला लिया जाएगा ।

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പല്ലുകൾ മുഴുക്കെ പുറത്ത്
കാണിച്ചൊരു ചിരിയും ഫിറ്റ് ചെയ്ത്
അവരിങ്ങെത്താൻ കാലമായി...

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ज़्यादा नहीं,
बस श्याम रंगीला जितना ही confidence
जीवन में दे दो भगवान !!

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Please read the caption for the full poem. This is my let-out after a frustrating day in recruitment; while hiring for "Relationship manager".

Being a recruiter is never easy
Hours and hours of research
To identify the right people
Followed by a truckload of calls
Every time a candidate says no
It is you, who loses

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പാലം കടക്കുവോളം നാരായണ നാരായണ
പാലം കടന്നു ചെന്നാൽ കൂരായണ കൂരായണ പതിവ് കലാപരിപാടി...

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The Road of Candidates (Poem)
It was a bright dawn,
Where every face registered with the fear sown.

Everyone rushes towards the centre with papers in their hands.
Cops are busy verifying all the candidates.

Bikes are driven by the husbands and the buses deliver huge people,
The road looked cumbersome, as their hard work was ample.

Yeah! It’s just a state service exam,
But the dream behind the OMR sheets is sublime.

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Sometimes I am in different nation, it is known as examination.
Fear resides here with confidence while candidates are in doubt and suspicion.😊☺️

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Read the caption for the entire poem.

Two days of hard toil
Searching through portal after portal
Company after company
And speaking to candidate after candidate
And what I am left with
Is nothing
Absolutely nothing to show for my efforts

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Read the caption for full poem. It is a rant about how difficult it is to hire for a senior Investment Banking role with a boutique client.

Another day goes by
When you work your hardest
And yet, you are left with nothing
To show for your hard toil
All those hours you spent
Searching for the right profiles
All those hours you spent
Calling as many candidates as possible

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Something has to give
After hours of frustration
Hours of thankless toil
Where are the fruits?
Trust and rapport built
Through days of understanding
Days of convincing
Evaporate at the eleventh hour
Causing me to tear my hair out
And start all over again

But are my efforts recognized?
Do all those hours count?
Apparently, not for the one in charge
For him, only numbers matter
Only money matters
Where are the results, he says
Where is the paycheck, I say
My patience, strained like an elastic band
Finally snaps with a loud crack
Something has to give, after all

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