Passion…unbridled

When a fictional story is created

In film or in writing, it is clearly stated

That any resemblance to people or events real

Must be considered purely coincidental

But the backdrop or setting should generally be

Believable for the place and time period of the story

Therefore storytellers research for periods of time extended

To set their stories correctly, not make factual errors unintended..

*

Sometimes the narrators deliberately deviate

From facts, what they portray is inaccurate

In the spirit of artistic license, facts can be

Distorted or bent to better suit the story

Sometimes it is done in such a subtle way

That only someone familiar with the subject can discover it anyway

At other times the anomaly is glaring enough

And discovering it is not for anyone tough

*

The practice of resorting to artistic license

Often comes under criticism intense

Some even find it irresponsible indeed

To deviate from facts, in can mislead

The audience into accepting artistic depictions to be true

For a work of historical fiction, this can have serious consequences too..

*

My take on this is that fiction involves

Imagining something new, a story unfolds and evolves

In the creator’s mind at its own pace

To expand freely, a story needs space

That should not be constrained by facts hard and cold

Therefore the spirit of artistic license I uphold..

When a maelstrom of emotions is going through your mind

You don’t really know how you feel, it is hard to find

The predominant emotion, at least one that you can name

You know your emotional state is heightened, all the same

If only you could distill down your emotion to its essence

You could create something powerful and intense..

*

After reading a book, myself in this situation often I find

The characters and the story leave imprints on my mind

That I cannot shake off, fiction and my reality collide

To create a weird emotional turmoil inside

Which as neither pleasant nor unpleasant I can describe

(Those who understand what I mean would constitute my tribe)

*

After a few hours I am back to my baseline emotional state

Still in a fictional state of mind, I am able to create

A piece of poetry in order to express authentically

The emotional tapestry the book had given me..

I have plenty of opinions and suggestions to share

But unless specifically asked for, I do not dare

To put forward my opinions and thoughts

Usually it is because confident I am not

That my suggestions would be taken seriously

On the other hand I wonder if I would inadvertently

Annoy someone if my opinion I were to state

Therefore I hold my tongue and wait

For others to share their often strong views

Only then do I speak, to go first I never choose

*

Often I find myself at the receiving end

Of advice that people without my asking for extend

Perhaps because my opinions I do not share

People think I do not understand or that I am unaware

When such situations occur I wonder if I should be

More forthcoming with my opinions about issues that I see

*

I envy those who audaciously believe

That their suggestions would be well-received

Their thoughts with confidence they express

No doubt people who hear them are impressed

Maybe I should just give it a try

Express my opinions without being shy

Maybe the hesitation lies purely in my mind

Let me share my thoughts and see what I find

I want to be energetic and vibrant every day

But some days I cannot shake fatigue away

Sometimes I am disenchanted, disengaged and unmotivated

I feel my enthusiasm for work and life has completely abated

I chide myself, try to trick my brain to believe

That if I tried harder, a hyper-energetic state I would achieve

I liberalize my caffeine intake

Hoping that a positive difference it would make

I start worrying if that state of mind

Is going to last long, but then I find

That if I just take a step back and let things be

Getting through the day is a bit easier for me..

*

We expect to be highly efficient and productive

At all times, on roller skates we try to live

When we find ourselves unable to meet

Our exalted expectations, we feel a sense of defeat

We expect nothing to come in the way

Of our efficiency from day to day

Aren’t these expectations unrealistic

Fueled by a society highly materialistic

Sending us towards mental and physical burnout

Certainly this is something we could do without?

*

To listen to the body when it tells us to rest

To slow down sometimes is in our best interest..

When you are going through a rough patch

You look for support to which you can latch

Sometimes it is a kind voice, a willing ear

That lets you overcome your fear

All the simmering resentment inside

You pour into this ear, you confide

All your woes and all your weaknesses too

You trust the other person would not betray you

*

You feel better, life goes on until one day

Your friend in a gathering decides to say

Something about you that you don’t want the world to know

And that gives to your trust a rude blow

Next time you would be more discerning, you decide

Before you let others know the thoughts you harbor inside

*

This competitive world is rough

To find a safe place to just be yourself is tough

When you expose your vulnerable side

You open the floodgates wide

For exploitation anytime by those

Who you as your confidants chose

By being burnt multiple times you realize

To express everything you feel is unwise

You learn to exercise restraint when you interact

You learn never to reveal your true feelings, in fact

*

The only lament I have here-

In hiding our vulnerabilities, we lose authenticity, I fear..

I don’t know how or why I was asked that day

What I really liked to do, I am embarrassed to say

That I instantly felt flattered, because I could not recall

An instance when anyone around me had cared at all

To find out what I liked, it had probably never crossed anyone’s mind

To ask women this question, they were supposed to be blind

Followers of the men, who with their wealth and position in the society

Were free to make choices, indulge in whatever they happened to fancy

*

Being from a wealthy family, I was privileged, I knew

What other women lacked, I had the freedom to do

And yet my opinions were considered unnecessary

I was supposed to be a bejeweled, bedecked accessory

But that one question energized me to explore

My likes and dislikes further, to try to be more

Than just a mute observer in a world that was exciting

The thought of being an active participant was inviting..

*

I realized I was passionate about education, I liked to teach

I started a school in the village in order to reach

The girls who were confined to household chores

I worked with their families in order to ensure

That they had the time, the resources and the flexibility

To learn how to read and write, and to grow up to be

The kind of women who were not afraid to state

What they liked, who were not resigned to their fates..

*

This was more than seventy years ago in India newly independent

I faced challenges profound, but never wavered in my intent

As I reflect on a life well-lived in my last days

The question that started my journey stays

Fresh in my mind- never in my wildest imagination

Had I thought I would teach multiple generations

Of women just because someone asked me

What I liked- and it became my destiny

It is believed that experiencing awe makes you

More peaceful, happier, more grateful too

It sounds a bit ridiculous to talk about

Being awestruck, it’s the stuff of dreamers, no doubt

Not for people who are practical, who live in reality

The experience of awe seems quite otherworldly..

*

Awe is not something I had felt much at all

Apart from a few times during travel that I could recall

But this year has so far bestowed upon many including me

More than one opportunity to be

Awestruck at incredible spectacles of the universe within a short span

We’ve directed our gaze upwards, like the earliest of men

Marveled at the spectacular cosmic dance

Grateful to have received a chance

To see the extraordinary in our daily lives

Filling us with emotions difficult to describe..

*

In a world where natural disasters increasingly make news

It is exhilarating to see these breathtaking views

To experience a sense of awe, feel a burst of positive energy

The solar eclipse and the Aurora Borealis have thus captivated me…

I stay wrapped up in my own shell

Mostly alone with my thoughts I dwell

I interact with few people except at the workplace

I like solitude in my own undisturbed space

I am quite content in my company but I fear

I am restricting my growth in my cocoon here…

*

I think, read and write in a vacuum devoid

Of people, this way I inadvertently avoid

Enriching discussions and criticism constructive

There is no one around me who can give

Advice to me on how to hone my craft

No one gets to critique my initial draft

Input from others should help me improve

I need people around me who do not approve

Of my way of thinking, the way I write

I would benefit from getting their valuable insight

**

If I want to be better, I have to end

The self-imposed isolation, I intend

To reach out and share my vulnerability

With people with a range of viewpoints around me

My ideas don’t just validation need

They shall expand when challenged indeed

The world moves at such a dizzying pace

That I constantly struggle to find my place

By the time my bearings I finally find

When around a new idea I finally wrap my mind

Ideas have changed, so have the ways in which things are done

And I feel defeated when I’ve just begun..

*

Perhaps it is of middle age a sign

An inevitability before which I have to resign

I can no longer learn new skills as fast

I want my old way of doing things to last

*

Even the internet is more confusing than it used to be

The difference between real and AI-generated content is hard to see

The sources I trusted for information are not

As trustworthy now as I had thought

*

It is easy to get lost in the world today

In the maelstrom of various forces at play

I should keep calm and try to preserve

My sanity, as my brain power I try to conserve

For learning the most important stuff

That I need to know, that should be enough

I read extensively but do not retain

Most information, I cannot explain

In detail what I have just read

I tend to make associations instead

With my existing emotions-therefore

I remember what appeals to my emotions more

Facts I forget as quickly as I read

I cannot talk knowledgeably indeed

About the contents of a book, but I don’t forget

If a book has made me exceptionally angry or upset

Or if a book has made me feel positive in a way profound

I am likely to carry forever those memories around

*

I connect with the words in a book, and then they

Get lodged in my memory where they stay

For easy retrieval when I feel a similar sentiment

I remember old words in the context present

*

Yes I envy those who can remember and convey

The information they have read in a coherent way

I wonder why in that category I do not fall

Large bytes of information why do I fail to recall?

*

Maybe that is why reading that moves me

Inspires me to incorporate it into my poetry

I read, I feel, I imbibe new ideas and thoughts

Eventually into my verses those ideas are brought..

When crowds have overrun a pretty place

To enjoy its iconic attractions there is no space

The infrastructure of the city is crumbling from the weight

Of unbridled tourist fervor, yet people continue to congregate

In this city that has been known

For its magnificent architecture from an era bygone

On every travel list, this city is a must-see

But it does not appear that impressive to me..

*

Let me find a place that is not too remote and yet

Throngs of tourists in high season does not get

A place that is a hidden gem perhaps

Authentic but without the usual tourist traps

Accessible enough but not widely publicized

Let me go there before its tourist potential is fully realized..

*

In this secluded town that seems far away

From civilization, I am spending a perfect day

Unhurried, relaxed, without having to stand in long queues

I am able to feel disconnected and footloose

At this less known but enchanting destination

I am actually able to enjoy my vacation..

I travel back with my child to rekindle my desire

For my roots, long have I aspired

To connect him with the places in which I had grown

He knows his mother in a vacuum; he knows someone who has flown

From her nest, leaving half of her behind

The unbroken half – that is what we are here to find

*

For landmarks familiar my eyes continue to scan

But it does not look like I can

Identify the places seared in my memory

Haphazard buildings and throngs have replaced the trees

Where are the knolls on which I had stood

To watch sunrise and sunset in the neighborhood..

I am as confused as my child who looks up to me

A bit concerned, a bit frightened, unable to see

Anything remarkable in the urban melee

He is wondering if his mother’s promise was a lie..

*

As we continue to walk aided by Google street view

A trusted old friend comes to my rescue

The sprawling banyan tree from my childhood days

In all its glory, in the same spot has stayed

In its expansive shade we take refuge from the sun

And I show my child where my story had begun..