"I don't understand engineering,"
Deepa pleaded to her father,
But none of her pleadings,
Were really going to matter.

He had made his decision,
He would make her an engineer,
Sadly, she had no say,
In deciding her own career.

"I love to write papa,
To create those imaginary worlds,
That's where my heart lies,
In those wonderful words."

She watched his brow tense,
She watched his eyes flash,
He threw the glass hard,
Making the water splash.

He looked up from his plate,
Stared in her eyes,
"What will you earn?"
He asked eating his rice.

It was that question again,
Which tormented every life,
It was always that money,
Which created all the strife.

"Is money that important,
That I kill my own heart?
Is money that important,
That you force upon me this start?"

With tears in her eyes,
This was her final battle,
To stay with her parents,
This was her final struggle.

She didn't admit loud,
But she still loved them both,
She didn't admit loud,
But she'd surely miss them both.

The college she was going,
Was away from her town,
"What's so wrong in that?"
Her father had asked with frown.

Because you won't be there,
To scold me for my mischiefs,
Because mom won't be there,
To give me the hug of reliefs.

Because my friends won't be there,
To sing with me our song,
You won't understand father,
There was so much wrong.

Finally the day came,
When she left her town,
In the circus of engineers,
She was the next clown.

She was the next clown...