Gujarati's Poem by Hardik Vaidya

We are farmers, we agree to culture.
Farming opportunities in deserts,
Through the windmills of our efforts.
We trap the sun in our eyes,
What's left we store in silicon's slice.
We sow endeavor. We till risk,
We are ruthless to the moment and brisk.
Our minds are like our lands,
Saline, sandy, loamy, fertile but always productive.
We learn what we need, leave what is not conducive.
We know addition multiplication, don't focus on substraction and division.
We sneeze, cough or go shy,
The stock exchange goes for a dive.
The crop grows in our eyes,
Fresh, minted, sparkling, bright,
The Reserve Bank of India her might,
Looks at us with pride
we are its delight.