25299154_10155906710596241_8737651808013923264_nShe loved words, this was no secret at all

They played in her head, to her they called

Voraciously she read, mostly in a language

She had adopted to be active on a wider stage


Well-versed was she in the vagaries

Of English language, loved the imagery

That brought alive in her head tales countless-

Words were magical-she could confess…


Words she loved, and longed to write

Yet despite all her insight

Into the world of words printed

She could not conjure a story, instead

She spent her time chronicling reviews

Of books she read, she would choose

With care how she reviewed each one

Yet she felt unfulfilled, this was not fun..


One day in a flea market that she frequented

She came across a book, quite nondescript

In her native tongue- it was unusual

To find books in languages regional

In the United States, for who would read

A book with limited readership indeed?

For a quarter, it was an investment quite good

She was its rightful owner, read the book she could

She settled down in her reading nook 

Proceeding, without expectation, to read the book


Halfway through the book, she was spellbound

It was a masterpiece all around

A well-spun yarn, though in India based 

The story was universal, it could have been placed

In any corner of the world, it would still resonate

With its readers, this she could confidently state


She finished reading, then googled immediately

The author of the book, out of curiosity

Very little existed on her on the web, but she did persist

An idea was forming in her head that she could not resist

What if she translated the author’s work into English?

It would be a way for her to fulfil her wish

While  exposing to a wider platform the regional author-

Yet the first roadblock was how to find her..


Consumed with her idea, she traveled back

To India, with some ingenuity she managed to track

The whereabouts of this elusive writer

Then managed to schedule a meeting with her

Turned out she had written much more

Though few read regional literature anymore

The writer was nonchalant about her proposal

At least the idea was not greeted by a refusal

So with her permission she proceeded to translate

The first book, to her it was pre-ordained by fate


Words came alive as she continued to translate

Embellishments she added, but did not deviate

From the essence of the story, she was done

In a remarkably short time, THIS was fun!


That first translation launched a career

For her in the literary sphere

A renowned translator for her language she became

Her translations brought indigenous writers fame

She still marvels at the serendipitous discovery

At the flea market- that wrote her success story!














Way to live

halloween flowers

There are many ways to die

She thought with a sigh-

A swift, painless accident

Or a fulfilled life coming to an end

Or this- the agonizing, slow oozing

Of life from within, the constant cruising

Between crises, trying to find

A respite from your body for the tired mind..

Such was her death sentence, her disease

Sapping at her strength, no prospect of release

The pain, the isolation of a chronic illness

Threatened to turn her into a soul feckless

Giving into her illness, she felt control receding

Life was ebbing away,  slowly bleeding..

Tormented with the question “why me?”

She raged and despaired simultaneously..


Her rage spent, a new normal she found

Trying hard to focus on the positives around

Her disease became a part essential

Of her, many things became inconsequential

As she developed for life a new respect

Each day without pain was a blessing, in effect..


“There are many ways to live,” she says

“One may live for a purpose, or just while away days

Living with gratitude for being alive and pain-free

Each day, is as good a way of living as can be..

Being able to breathe, being able to see,

Smell, taste, hear- savor everything around me

Is a gift for me, not to be lightly treated-

I remind myself, when I feel defeated

There are many ways to live, and I

Choose to live every day under this sky






A mother’s fear

madhubaniAs a mother my greatest fear
Is to pass along to my child dear
Everything that is flawed in me
Twisted genes, bad habits, insecurities…
I wish all that is in me undesirable
Somehow is rendered unable
To be transmitted to him, I wish somehow
For a filter that would only allow
Positive attributes of mine to flow through
While sieving out negativities too..

Alas such a filter exists not in this world
I have to be cautious in deed and word
To prevent my child from imbibing my less attractive traits
I fail to do so often, then myself I berate
For setting wrong examples, being weak
Some form of redemption then I seek
I am hypervigilant often for signs of projection
Of my insecurities on him, he needs protection
From my flawed ways of thinking which have brought me
Anguish and sorrow, quite frankly…

Many a times I am convinced that I
Am the worst patent under the sky
But my son ends up bringing my soul solace
When a positive attitude he displays
Of my internal struggles he is unaware
I am the one he follows everywhere
When he works hard, I am glad to see
At least he has imbibed from me industry
Yet when he displays impatience, it is a reflection
Of his having absorbed my imperfection..

I set the examples, therefore I should
Set good ones, it’s expected from motherhood..


In Zen,  ensō (“circle”) is a circle that is hand-drawn in one or two uninhibited brushstrokes to express a moment when the mind is free to let the body create. The circle may be open or closed. In the former case, the circle is incomplete, allowing for movement and development as well as the perfection of all things. When the circle is closed, it represents perfection, akin to Plato’s perfect form.


I trace with my pen

In one single stroke

Thinking of all the zen

I can soak

The imperfect circle

Open on one side

I await a miracle-

I know I have tried

To achieve perfection

In ways countless

The open circle is a depiction,

I must confess,

Of a life with potential

For continued growth

It is essential

To have hope and patience, both

The enso drawn by me

Is a force creative

A symbol of life in its fluidity

An inspiration for me to live


I hope the circle

Will close one day

As I clear every obstacle

In my way

To achieve perfection

That evades me now

Until then the open 

Enso does allow

Me to dream 

Dreams wild, audacious

Dreams that seem

To occupy corners spacious

Of my heart, soul and brain

Dreams borne out of a quest

For perfection, shrouded in pain

Dreams that show me the best

Version of myself that I can be

As I chase them, the enso is open for me…

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shortcut keys 090325

At the end of an incredibly busy day

When all my energy had been sapped away

I was still left with a gigantic mound

Of work to complete, I looked around

To see if any help I could harness

I found none, and  I confess

That vanquished by exhaustion 

To winds I threw all caution

And proceeded to take the route I had thought

I never would- I had decided to not resort

To cutting corners even in a time crunch

Yet that day, maybe because of missed lunch

I caved in to the temptation strong

Rationalizing that it was not wrong

To take short-cuts once in a while

Soon I was done, and I left with a smile..


The easier path is a slope slippery

Once lured, it was difficult to break free

From the temptation to take short-cuts which became

Shorter each time- my conscience at times tried to blame

Me for the increasingly sloppier quality of my work

I ignored its voice, nagging was one of its quirks


It is true that more time on hands I did find

By finishing work faster , it relaxed my mind

Therefore my moral compass remained dormant

Though the fear of missing something important did torment

Me from time to time, until one day the inevitable happened

Due to my carelessness, I could not pretend

That the cause was something else, because I knew

I had been getting away with mistakes, it’s true

This time the blunder could have been ugly

It was caught in the nick of time luckily..

Needless to say, I rediscovered my moral compass

I went back to being very meticulous..


I have understood  that cutting corners for short-term gain

Is only fraught with eventual misery and pain!

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My New Year’s Resolution Is..


It is the tenth of January and I 

Even before giving them a good try

Am falling short on my resolutions-

I am already asking for absolution

From the tyranny of this social norm

Whereby all my aspirations take the form

Of New Year’s resolutions, that I

Know are impossible for me under the sky

It seems like a rather smart thing to do

(I counsel my patients similarly too-

Telling them to quit smoking as a new year’s resolution)

A new beginning is supposed to bring new solutions

However since nothing has changed but the date

The new year makes no change to my fate

Two days of sweating out in the gym-

Then the brightness of a workout gets dim

Five days of reading an hour a day

By day six the craving for books has gone away

Writing, meditating, creating works of art

All these activities are dear to my heart

So resolutions centered around them I created

Thinking I could keep them, but I had underestimated

The power of rebellion when the mind finds itself chained

Caged within resolutions, the same activities cause pain..


Every year I get frustrated by my inability to keep

My resolutions- so I’ll forget about them and go to sleep!

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Snow day

snow day

Today was a day in January, not unexpected

When a cold front and low pressure intersected

Causing snowfall, goodness gracious, on a weekday..

And even though last night I had continued to pray

To the weather Gods, my worst fears were realized

A snow emergency was declared, and no surprise

All schools were closed, because of safety concerns

One day of missed school does not affect what children learn

So as working parents our woes multiplied

In addition to the morning commute being a difficult ride

Now we were faced with how to arrange childcare

At 6 am- wish I could conjure a baby-sitter in thin air…

Since that was not happening, alternatives were few

Our child would accompany a parent to work too

It took some frantic moments to decide

The best course of action, with some pride

I can say we found a better solution

This conflict saw an early resolution..

But I was left thinking, for the remainder of the day

How weather can play havoc in our lives in this way

Our carefully orchestrated plans fall apart

When the weather Gods throw their darts

There will be more snow days this year, I know

I pray for them to be on a weekend though!