Passion…unbridled

From work I return, completely drained

Having navigated a complex web again

Of illness, death, pain, angst, anger, and more

Each day seems more exhausting than the one before

*

The thought of preparing dinner right now

Is daunting, and I am wondering how

To rid myself of this tedious chore

When I see chickpeas I had soaked the night before

I am obligated to cook them, I realize

So with resignation, I begin to dice

Onions and tomatoes, some garlic I pound

In a few minutes, a familiar rhythm I’ve found

The subliminal ritual of cooking a comfort meal

Calms me down, the predictable process makes me feel

Much more in control than I did during the day

The aroma of Indian spices further takes away

Stressful thoughts; then the pressure cooker chimes in

With its shrill whistles, and my salivary glands begin

To produce their juice, because this is the sign

That piping hot stew would be ready in no time..

I steam fragrant basmati rice and roll out dough,

Into fresh rotis, puff them on the griddle, nice and slow

By the time dinner is ready, work woes I have left behind

The ritual of cooking dinner has been therapeutic for my mind

*

To counterbalance the unpredictability at work I need

The comfort and familiarity of a ritual indeed

By cooking a simple meal rooted in my culture, I find

A salve for my heart and my overburdened mind

Yes I am upset and I want to shed

Copious tears right now; instead

I control my emotions at the cost

Of being distracted, distant and lost

In my reverie, not listening to you

My patience runs thin, I snap at you too

But I am your mother and you should not

See me being weak, is what I’ve been taught

Seeing me upset, watching me cry

Would upset you too, that is why

I should sulk in private, after you go to bed

My own worries I should completely forget

As I step into a mother’s role for you

I should be able to separate the two

Facets of my life, as a mother and a person

A mother should be infallible, make mistakes none

But when I try to display a stoic side

My true emotions with difficulty I hide

My burden I am unable to relieve

Without crying, without being able to grieve

I shut down and emotionally unavailable become

At least to weakness I do not succumb..

*

I wonder though if it is really that bad

To cry before my child, to show him I am sad

By never crying before him, I reinforce

That emotions should not be displayed, but inside yourself forced

Each of us is vulnerable, should children not see

Our imperfect sides, our vulnerability?

I worry if I hide my emotions by keeping a distance

My child would do the same when upset, as a mechanism of defense

Then I would never know what’s bothering him at all

I would not be able to guide him when he falls..

*

I am upset, my child, let me cry

I feel hurt, I shall not lie

I promise I’ll feel better after shedding a few tears

I am all right, just sad, do not fear..

Once I dry my eyes, I would be able to spend

Quality time with you, my little friend

(The hidden cost of fast fashion)

I have a gathering to attend

It is important that I spend

Some of my (hard-earned) money to buy

A new outfit, because how can I

Repeat an outfit worn previously

We are going to take pictures obviously

That would, on social media sites be displayed

Comparisons between the last party and this one would be made

It’s an unwritten rule to not repeat an outfit

I care for my image, I don’t want to be a misfit

*

I am not a movie star or royalty, and so

Moolah on designer clothes I cannot throw

I buy an inexpensive (but stylish) dress

It does make me look good, I confess

Made in a country on the planet’s other side

This designer knock-off is perfect for a few wears, I decide

Fast fashion allows me to acquire

On a budget, the celebrity looks I desire

*

On the other side of the planet, hidden away

In a sweatshop, she toils every day

All of thirteen, she leaves school to come here

Perform back-breaking labor, in constant fear

Of being abused, injured, or not being paid what is due

Risking fire, toxic fumes, other hazards too

She distracts herself from her miserable fate

She imagines wearing the dresses they create

*

I garnered attention at the party in my beautiful dress

The photographs were brilliant, the event was a success

I wore the dress again a few months later elsewhere

I snagged a button and the stitching unraveled out of nowhere

The dress had served its purpose anyway

So without second thoughts I threw it away

*

My discarded dress that served me well for a night

Now languishes in a huge landfill, an ugly sight

It was made of polyester, so it would stay

For hundreds of years without decomposition or decay

*

All I wanted was to look good for one event

Social or environmental exploitation was never my intent

Yet my ignorance and my selfish motives were tied

To child labor, exploitation, environmental pollution worldwide

Once I learnt this, I felt a pang of remorse

I decided to completely reverse my course

*

I am learning to repeat outfits (creatively)

I am learning to buy quality over quantity

I look for clothing sustainably made

From natural fibers that can degrade

Clothing made in countries with sweatshops I no longer buy

Of course my new clothes are priced high

So I buy less, sometimes buy from vintage stores

By leaving fast fashion, I’ve realized less is more

ICU nurses are facing burnout at an alarming rate due to repeated COVID surges, staffing shortages, the lack of efficacious treatments for severe COVID leading to very high mortality, and with omicron, increasing infection rates among staff members. Here is my attempt to give voice to an ICU nurse in the pandemic.

I’m tired I’m tired I’m tired….

*

That’s all my mind lets me think

As I come closer to the brink

Of losing empathy- is this burnout?

I desperately want a way out

A way that I cannot even find

Wave after wave has benumbed my mind

The layers of PPE no longer appear to be

Protective gear, all they do is stifle me

Mechanically my shifts I try to work through

I don’t stop to reflect on what I do

Now there is an immediate sense of deja vu

Each time there is announced a code blue

The adrenaline rush that would previously kick in

To save a coding patient is missing, my reserves run thin

As another life is claimed by the beast that is COVID

I want to explode in anger, I feel livid

There is no place to vent my anger or frustration anyway

We are all spent, we have nothing to say

*

I think about quitting in my weariness

Everyday we do more and more with less

I worry that the proverbial last straw lurks near

It could break my back any day, I fear

Ironically what prevents me from going berserk

Is the frantic pace- I have no choice in the face of excess work

Each day staff is dwindling, for reasons varied

The ones standing are stretched thin in this time of need

*

We’ve had a small victory for my patient, let me try

To celebrate it with others, and reinforce to myself why

I continue to do this day after day

I am an ICU nurse, I shall not run away..

When was the last time we as humankind

Were in our collective grief so aligned?

*

We all have grieved, we all have mourned

Individually, in clusters, we have borne

The weight of our grief alone, many times in the past

But there wasn’t a blanket of grief so vast

As to engulf each one of us in its fold

The pandemic has inflicted miseries untold

While some have lost more, others less

We all have incurred losses in the process

Of navigating through this pandemic

The loss of normalcy is a damage systemic

None of us has unscathed remained

We’re grappling with varying degrees of pain

*

On our collective grief I reflect

With the audacity of hope I expect

This would be the bond that would unite

All of humankind, enable us to continue our fight

Through this crisis that appears endless

We shall heal through a collective spiritual process

When were we united in such solidarity with each other

As we are now, we shall find a way out of this crisis together

That thing I hold inside of me

Against a (?real) (?imaginary) adversary

The thing that my mind cannot process

Festers like a putrefying abscess

Or like a low grade tumor that continues

To enlarge, a wound that continues to ooze

Spreading evil humors throughout me

Threatening my peace of mind, my sanity

The resentment that has become embedded in to

My corpuscles, my marrow, my veins it courses through

I cannot purge myself clean unless I tear apart

My very being, my body, mind and heart

*

That grudge, that anger, that resentment

Misplaced, misdirected, harmful in intent

Aimed at someone else but with direction reversed

To devastate me, to keep me in discomfort immersed..

As I approached the breaking point, not knowing what to do

One day I just let it go, without even thinking it through

Like a discarded cloak, I just threw my grudge away

My spiritual healing began that day

I forgave the one against who all these years

I had held a grudge, out of irrational fear

Of getting hurt myself if I did forgive

Clearly with a misconception I did live..

In Indian society, this is the question everyone seems to have for young adults, particularly women, and it usually refers to marriage. As intrusive as it is, it is a common question and I have a tongue-in-cheek reply…

What do you mean by “settling down”, tell me

I am educated, have a career and live independently

If settling down means planting my roots here

I’ll do that after I’m done exploring the world, have no fear

I see, maybe you are concerned about my loneliness

So you think I should settle down, or settle for less?

I have enough social interactions to keep loneliness at bay

And who said marriage drives loneliness away?

So you are concerned about my aging biological clock

This is something about which we don’t need to talk

How did you assume that I want to be

A mother soon, without knowing me

I am not against societal institutions as such

But making them my life goals right now does not interest me much

It may surprise you, but I feel settled right now

When desired change appears in my life, its entry I shall allow

Most likely I shall “settle down” per your definition narrow

If and when that happens, your curiosity would let you know

Let me however reiterate that my happiness

Is not contingent on “settling down”, nor is my life’s success

(My relationship with my birth country)

Relationships can be complicated, I’m aware

The most complicated relationship I have, I must declare

Is with my birth country, my motherland

It has taken me a while to understand..

My love for India should unconditional be

At least that’s what I would like, but unfortunately

As an outsider, my perception has morphed, I would say

I can see things that I did not see yesterday

Then I realize I am judging through a foreign lens

I feel like a traitor, but in my defense

I can separate fact from misconception

Unlike a true foreigner’s perception

That could be biased, past the stereotypes I can see

And recognize the actual ills that plague my birth country

Let me say it hurts deeply to recognize

Anything that tarnishes the image of India in my eyes

I am tempted to “rectify” the issue immediately

To suit my westernized sensibility

Then I remind myself of all the complexities that make

India so unique, and lasting change does take

A change in the zeitgeist, when ideas and resources converge

In a land where the past, present and future seamlessly merge..

I feel a twinge of sadness for what as a flaw I perceive

But refrain from trying to voice what I believe

Going down my chain of thoughts, I am reminded once again

That what you love deeply causes you the most pain…

I remind myself that I love India not because

I am oblivious of its shortcomings, but in-spite of its flaws

It is extremely hard to be away from your family in another time zone when they are unwell…

How was your night, I do not know

For me the afternoon hours pass slow

I wait impatiently for your dawn to break

I check time obsessively trying hard to shake

The all-pervading anxiety as I try to maintain

A regular evening schedule, suppressing the pain

Borne out of anger and helplessness

I cannot be with you in this time of distress

I fervently pray that you wake up feeling well

Physically though in another time zone I dwell

Right now the time difference unbearable appears

Without constant communication, the worst I fear

I know I must not interrupt your sleep at any cost

For recuperation, hours of sleep must not be lost

*

I check WhatsApp, it seems you are awake now

With nervous anticipation, I now allow

Myself to make a call, hope you answer right away

Give me positive news, my anxiety allay

Something feels empty, what is it and where?

Is there a hole, a void in my heart of which I am unaware

I feel lonely, cooped up in my home alone

Trying to find something uplifting on my smartphone

There is a pit in my stomach, a craving I cannot name

It feels like an addiction, smells faintly of shame

I do not have vices, the kind people talk about

I do not smoke or use drugs, alcohol I can do without

But I need something to fill that void

Something innocuous, anything in shades of grey I avoid

Where is my succor, in the pantry maybe

Or the freezer, my feet without realizing take me

To the haven of food, to fill that hollow feeling

I stuff myself mindlessly until I am reeling

From the effects of eating too much too fast

The emptiness is obliterated, but the effect would not last…

*

Later I reflect on my behavior, and I am ashamed again

For my sin of gluttony, I endure privately my pain

I realize with food I am trying to mistakenly fill

A hole in my heart, that remains empty still…

I shall remember for years to come

How you shaped me, how I did become

The grown-up person that I am today

All words of encouragement and criticism tucked away

In various recesses of my brain from where

They get retrieved without my being aware

Help me navigate through life in your measured tone

I think I rarely take a decision all alone

The silver-haired wisdom you imparted to me

Is my friend, philosopher and guide constantly

**

I have a lifetime of memories for reminiscence

Many of them evoke emotions intense

My embarrassment at your superlative praise

Your reproaches at my defiant adolescent ways

All those times you knew me better than I knew

Myself-all those times that I argued with you

Because I was an adult or I wanted to pretend

(Perhaps defiance alone was what I did intend)

Memories that seemed too many to store

Suddenly became finite, there shall be no more

Memories to make with you, I know

Let me inhale them all, deep and slow

If there is something I have learnt

In the last two years after being burnt

Multiple times for my planning overzealous

Is not to make plans, best not to discuss

What we would do in six months or a year

Many times the plans for the next week are unclear

Depending on which way the pandemic pendulum swings

Unexpected change of plans the curve of an outbreak brings

Plans for social gatherings and travel can change within days

Our lives are ruled by the virus, this is one of the ways

*

Pre-pandemic a lot of time I would spend

In making plans elaborate, only a few in the end

Would materialize, but now it appears to me

That they were daydreams more than plans actually

The roller-coaster ride of the pandemic has now

Cured me of that habit, I do not allow

Myself to get carried away and plan far ahead

I make immediately actionable plans instead

I am more spontaneous, less time I idle away

Disappointment thus I can keep at bay

*

From a compulsive planner to someone

Who now finds spontaneous planning fun-

I have changed, expectations right now I have none

Who knows if I would revert back when the pandemic is done?