Passion…unbridled

People with an entrepreneurial spirit have realized

That everything you do can be monetized ..

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You’ve spent hours perfecting your art

You’re passionate about it, you’ve poured into it your heart

It is a means of escape from the daily humdrum

You showcase your art to people, and the suggestions instantly come

To try to sell your art, to monetize your creative avocation

It is meant as a compliment- anything of merit is worth monetization

You get sold on the idea, you start trying to sell

But your passion nosedives when your business starts doing well…

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You’ve spent months in planning and curation

Of your wedding, you give in to the temptation

To sell your wedding pictures to a popular online magazine

You offset the cost of your wedding, and it is good to be seen

In the public eye- both criticism and praise are heaped on you

You’ve won yourself some moolah, but you’ve lost your privacy too..

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You create funny videos as a creative outlet

And post them on social media, all you want to get

Is some likes and views from close friends and family

But soon you realize you can turn your content into money

Eventually an influencer with substantial following you become

Your genuine content is now by algorithms run

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You’ve monetized your passion, your creativity is now a business

Truth be told, there is no longer as much fun in the process

One day an epiphany goes off, and you realize

That your passion, your pastime, you no longer want to monetize

Things unfinished I hate to leave

If I do not complete what I’ve started, I believe

That my precious time has gone down the drain

I take up short projects, that rarely unfinished remain

Even when a film or a book seems to be dragging on

I stick with it, long after the excitement has gone

I do keep hoping for a surprise twist at the end

Either way, I watch or read as long as the story extends

If I am studying for a test, I rarely stop before

The entire material I have tried to store

In my fickle memory, I fight the urge to rest

Before I have combed through the syllabus of my test

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I paint on small canvases, because I do not possess

The patience to spend days on artwork, I want to be done in six hours or less

And once I have begun, I make sure it is completed the same day

Even if fine details end up being taken away

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I write short verses for the same reason, instead of prose

I start with a conflict and with a resolution close

My verse is complete within an hour or two

And the next day I can begin anew

If I was given an assignment in school, I would ensure

That I did a bit extra, I wanted to secure

For myself, a respectable position among my peers

And that tendency did not with time disappear

There were people who always sailed through

By doing the bare minimum they were expected to do

To me just doing nothing except the minimum required

Was sheer laziness, I had no desire

To join that club, I wanted to be known

As someone who had sincere effort shown

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In my adult life, I have realized

That there are times when doing the bare minimum is wise

Because there are multiple tasks taking up space in your mind

By doing the bare minimum you can find

For stuff that really counts, more time and space

Therefore not always going the extra mile I have now embraced

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In my chosen profession there are serious decisions to take

That require time and effort, where there is a lot at stake

But simultaneously there has been a proliferation

Of busy work that is mandated but has no real ramifications

For patient care, for these assignments I do

The bare minimum that allows me to work without an issue

I still go the extra mile where real work is concerned

This is the practical lesson I have as an adult learnt

Gardening as a hobby exciting appears

Except that I have a strong (not unfounded) fear

Of killing all plants left under my care

I don’t have a green thumb, and even the most hardy plant is not spared

Either I forget to water them or flood them inadvertently

The growth expected from a plant I never see

On my watch only weeds seem to grow

I am lazy about pulling them out, and so

The desirable plants do not survive

While the weeds in all their glory thrive

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If I had a green thumb I would cultivate

Plants that would fill up most of my plate

Seasonal fruits and vegetables, pesticide-free

Would grow prolifically in my nursery

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Books on gardening I have tried to read

I have tried to plant both saplings and seeds

I have tried to grow indoor plants too

But raising plants is something I can’t seem to do

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I still want to my own vegetables one day

But for now, I’ve let that dream wither away

Let me get from farmers’ markets fresh produce

It’s better than letting plants wither on my watch, I’ve deduced

As someone who prefers solitude

I confess that I have never viewed

Clubs of any kind as suitable for me

I’d hardly joined any clubs until recently

When I found it difficult to decline

Participation in a book club- with books and wine

If seemed like an interesting way to spend

An evening with like-minded friends

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The book that had been chosen for discussion that day

Was one that I was indifferent to anyway

I had read the book beforehand

The plot I wanted to fully understand

To the greatest extent I wanted to participate

My first book club I wanted to celebrate

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I was not sure how discussing a book in a group would be

Reading, in my opinion is a solitary activity

But when I went there without notions preconceived

I found it much more enjoyable than I had believed

To get a perspective diametrically opposite of mine

Even though we all had read the same lines

Was a refreshing experience, novel to me

I discovered how enjoyable a book club meeting could be

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Now a book club of my own I want to run

To get more people to realize that reading is fun

Reading aloud, dissecting characters and their motivations

In a group is much better than silent interpretation

A self-imposed challenge that I face

Is to find in my schedule enough space

To read the various forms of writing I want to

Medical journals, books, news articles, to name a few

Somehow I find time to read novels despite their length

But at the end of a workday I cannot muster will power and strength

To read journal articles related to my profession

I postpone such reading indefinitely, in true confession

Then there are news stories that I compulsively read

To stay updated on current affairs, truth is more engaging than fiction indeed

Many magazine articles, poems, travelogues I curate

To read at my convenience, but my stamina dissipates

After the first few lines, unread such articles stay

As I keep postponing reading them to another day

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Unfortunately, in reading social media posts more time I spend

Than I should, reading about and watching the latest trends

This time sink I must avoid, I must read

Everything that for self-development I need

Social isolation is a malady of the twenty-first century

But as I just found out, it has created a trillion dollar industry

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The loneliness economy is growing by leaps and bounds

The purveyors of capitalism have found

That lonely people have higher screen-time usage

They retain subscriptions, with emotionally charged content engage

Their loneliness is exploited and monetized

By feeding them content customized

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People living in isolation are customers excellent

In chasing a dopamine rush their time and money are spent

In impulse purchases and scrolling endless

Their attempts to keep at bay loneliness

Are for businesses quite profitable

For them loneliness is a trait favorable

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In the throes of loneliness, I’ll try not to be

A fodder for the loneliness economy

Instead of scrolling mindlessly on my phone

I’ll spend time reading a book alone

One of my yardsticks in evaluating a good day

Is whether the book I’ve been reading has been impactful in some way

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I read to escape into a world different from the one in which I reside

When I start reading a book, I gear up for a roller-coaster ride

Sometimes the ride is amazing and the book leaves me spellbound

In those moments I feel as if Nirvana I have found

If I end my day after reading a book that has kept me engaged

The day has been successful according to my gauge

If a book leaves me angry like they rarely do

In a negative light my day I view

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Unfortunately, a number of books that I read do not leave

Any lasting impression- I’ve come to perceive

The days on which I read such books as unremarkable

I then browse aggressively for books that appear desirable

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On a great note I am ending this day

Because I read a book that was delightful in every way

Almost every time I sit down to write

I hear my inner voice gearing for a fight

You are not a writer- it reminds me again

Sometimes its admonition goes in vain

And I write effortlessly, but sometimes the voice is loud

And my writing comes under a cloud

Of self-doubt, writer’s block I get

The criticism from my inner voice is hard to forget

Whatever I manage to write does not satisfactory appear

That I am not a real writer, is my pervasive fear..

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My inner voice is worse when I try to create art

I acknowledge I am an amateur, I simply pour my heart

Into my art projects, but my inner critic I cannot satisfy

It finds my flaws with an intensely critical eye

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My inner critic I must learn to ignore

It has been holding me back from doing more

Even if I am not a writer or an artist, I shall continue

To write what comes to my mind, to create amateur art too

The memory of my phone is running out of space to store

Photographs I have taken, and in order to keep taking more

Old photographs I am forced to delete from my device

I start by choosing duplicates and the ones that are not that nice

But doing just that proves to not be enough

I don’t know what else to delete, letting go of memories is tough..

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I want to record all of life’s important moments

To maintain a visual diary is my intent

I love looking back at old pictures when free

I cherish each and every memory..

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To document our lives in pictures has become

So simple that it can be done by anyone

But this way of preserving our memories is relatively new

For thousands of years, taking pictures is something people could not do

Their memories were solely confined

To the storage space in their minds..

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So why am I fretting about a photograph being deleted

When I have formed many memories deep-seated

I retain the memories even though the photographic proof is not there

Not every moment in life needs documentation, I’m aware

I write about a range of subjects wide

But what I want to write most about, I hide

There are emotions trying to get organized

Into words, to suppress them I have tried

Because I am not mentally prepared

For my innermost thoughts to be shared

I skirt around my emotions, I try to find

Anything to write about other than what’s on my mind

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I try to remind myself not to seek external validation

When I write, it should serve as a distillation

Of my thoughts and emotions, therefore I should not be

Inhibited by the thought of being judged negatively

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Writing is an exercise in being comfortable

In my own skin, in letting myself be vulnerable

Perhaps I shall get there one day

And to shape my deepest emotions in words, find a way

Each year incremental changes I see

In my physical and mental capacity

My reflexes are just a tad bit slow

Compared to what they were a year ago

I cannot sprint as fast as I used to do

Climbing up and down uneven surfaces wears me down too

Late night partying no longer desirable appears

Major disruptions to my daily routine I’ve begun to fear

My memory neither serves me well in retention nor recall

I am losing grey cells along with hair fall..

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The inexorable signs of aging are there

But this is something I am reluctant to share

In a world where people my age seem to be

Younger-appearing, more adventurous and lively

It is hard to admit any age-related decline

In my physical vigor or faculties of my mind

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I’ve started living a dual life inadvertently

In public I display the energetic side of me

The wounds inflicted by age in private I nurse

Knowing that age-related changes I cannot reverse…

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Some day I hope I shall gather enough courage

To fully acknowledge and embrace my age