On the Fiji Indian Diaspora

The famine struck

And the two love struck

Were Making love

A raven and a dove

Of Different sects

They must not wed

Banished and sold

And Traded for gold

Agreements signed

Thus starts the grind

And so they sailed

The islands hailed

In trust and hope

For occupation scope

Of country bereft

The girmits left

In shackles bound

They push around

As Bhagoriyas dubbed

In wreck unplugged

They washed ashore

Where cannibals roared

Mingled to hobnob

Got bobs and jobs

For 5 rupees

5 years on knees

In sugary fields

But lastly free

Missed their homeland

But made a stand

In commonwealth

Became vital strength

Basking descendants

Cannot comprehend

The Trojan toil

On foreign soil

The tourists come

From India some

Take souvenirs

And to jahajis cheer

And so does end

The old time tale

Of the diaspora

From Indian trails