Passion…unbridled

Temptations abound

Slippery slopes all around

Hard to know sometimes what you do

Is above bar, completely ethical too

In a world where lines get increasingly blurred

New money-generating ways get unfurled

In a gig economy, there are creative ways

To sell stuff, ideas, entertainment these days

The old-fashioned ways of drawing a fixed income

By working for a company have become

Somewhat antiquated as exciting opportunities appear

The internet-fed generation is embracing this market without fear…

*

Rules in this new era at times seem fluid to me

What appears completely legitimate could be

Frowned upon by some as flirting with unethical territory

Should you disregard such doubts or should you worry?

*

My take is that one should objectively interrogate

One’s motivation behind the action they contemplate

If there’s a nagging feeling that something’s not right

It’s probably not going to be worth the fight

The best judge when rules are nebulous

Is our own inner conscience that nudges us

To choose the right path, rise above our greed

Make the best, most ethical decisions indeed

“You don’t know how strong you are

Until being strong is the only option for you”

This is what I had heard so far

But I beg to state this may not be true

The statement seems to suggest

That strength is a reaction to an external force

This sentiment I would like to protest

Strength is a choice you make, not the last recourse

Alone and faced with adversity

You can be paralyzed or be proactive

Both are choices you can make freely

The choice you make is the one with which you live

*

I do believe that we are beings resilient

In times of stress our survival instinct is revived

We choose to be strong because it is our intent

To live, to succeed, towards happiness strive

*

Let life throw its curveballs at me

I choose to be strong, to deal with them freely..

I believe that healing from grief requires embracing it, and going through it, in order to move on.

From childhood years I had been taught

You had to look happy, even when you were not

The world would soon get tired of your grief

This was what I had imbibed, this was my belief..

*

So when tragedy gave me a gut-punch, myself I found

Facing a deep chasm of grief profound

In my sorrow, from inside I was a mess

While projecting a calm demeanor, I confess

*

Behind a stoic facade I did hide

I withdrew in a shell, retreated inside

I interacted with the world, but I was depressed

Turns out it was because grief I had suppressed

*

One day in a vivid dream I did see

My grief as a raging wide river before me

Contentment and hope, it appeared

Were on the opposite bank- I feared

That instead of crossing the river of grief

I had been skirting the shore in misplaced belief

I needed to swim through the river after all

This was my epiphany, this was an action call..

*

I plunged in to the river of sorrow and misery

Painful at first but cathartic eventually-

I went through my grief and not around

On the other bank of the river there was hope to be found…

*

My grief finally exorcized, I could move on

Come out of my shell- the sadness had gone

The only way forward after a traumatic event

Is not around it- grief needs to be experienced

By donning a mask and not mourning my loss, it appears

I had prolonged my misery, in mistaken assumptions and fear..

Thinking about my life never fails to remind me

Of the place I call my hometown, this incredible city

*

Far I have flown from its folds, yet I remain beguiled

By its timeless appeal, the history of India is compiled

Within its perimeters, the seat of power is here

Delhi fueled my ambition, made my goals clear

To see the wider world, for where else would you see

Eponymous roads giving you lessons in world history

Where a twelfth century tower is near a twenty-first century mall

Where Old and New Delhi are separated by a medieval wall

*

Having lived in Delhi I can never forget

My roots, because in this city intersect

The ancient and the modern in each corner and nook

Every part of Delhi is an open book

With layers of stories to tell spanning epochs of time…

But in the midst of monuments and gardens sublime

There exists a deep, dark underbelly

Sordid crimes have marred the face of Delhi

A constant reminder that evil exists side by side

With good- a barbed arrow that hurts the pride

Of a person like me- whose wanderlust heart

Shall forever belong to Delhi in some part..

To long meandering sentences I am averse

These days I find when I want to converse

With other denizens of this universe

I choose not prose, I choose verse..

*

When I am caught in situations terse

When I am dealing with circumstances adverse

I try to organize my thoughts in verse

This exercise then helps me reverse

My perception, my agitation it helps to disperse

*

Sometimes it is just interesting to intersperse

My speech with a nonsensical rhyming verse

I find when things take turns for worse

With a humorous rhyme, somber mood I can inverse

*

Rhymes are found in languages diverse

While some might find my fascination perverse

I must say poems let me traverse

Through the complexities of the universe..

We are taught to strive for balance elusive

Leading a balanced life seems to be the right way to live..

Let me, for a moment, present the opposite point of view

Balance is beautiful, but imbalance is necessary to

Keep the universe in motion because a universe in balance perfect

Would be static, become stagnant, I suspect..

If we humans lived our lives in perfect synchrony

With our surroundings, we would languish in ennui

There would be no motivation, no need to strive

For change, for excellence in our lives..

*

Like everything else, moderation is the key

Tip the scales some, there should be some entropy!

Wish I could channel my hidden diva in such a way

That my inner beauty would shine every day

And all the external processes of beautification

Would be rendered unnecessary, with resultant simplification

Of my life, oh what a joy it would be

To be able to get some time free

To spend with my family, or perhaps alone

Maybe another skill I could try to hone..

*

Many times I have tried, in feigned confidence

To go without make-up, get over the pretense

Of dyeing my hair that is greying fast

But ageism is deep-rooted, youthful looks must last

Sadly, even professionally accomplished women are expected

To be well-groomed and impeccably dressed to be respected

Therefore one look at other women and I lose my resolve

To appear in public without grooming in a way that involves

Spending precious time and money to look presentable

That deep-seated insecurity rears its head in a way regrettable

**

Thus lacking courage to go ungroomed I spend

Precious hours in a salon, contrary to what I intend…

Quiet and dignified

Speaking volumes

Without making a sound

Never conspicuous

Never outrageous

Yet with impact profound

Its presence obvious

In the indifference

In understated confidence

In self-assuredness

In expression of views

Genuine, or under pretense

Of concern for everyone

With incomplete understanding

Secure in the knowledge

That they are exempt

From the burden of comprehension-

This, stated sotto voce, is privilege

You think of life’s momentous moments

The ones in the limelight, the ones that steal the show

They make a loud noise, garner attention

But they are not the moments when you grow

Personally- understanding the deeper meaning of life

Growth in personal and spiritual spheres

Occurs during ordinary moments from day to day

When wisdom is whispered in your ears

No one else knows, there is nothing to proclaim

Ostensibly your path has not deviated at all

Outwardly everything appears the same

Yet you know something has changed, albeit small

You are a shade better in the way you operate

One step closer to being who you want to be

A better version of yourself than you were before

May be closer to fulfilling your ultimate destiny..

Writing is rewriting

Of stories lived

Emotions experienced

Making tangible

nebulous thoughts

Stringing together

words and phrases

Scattered in the mind

Into sentences on paper

*

Writing is rewriting

Reviewing, revising

Scratching off lines

Tearing off pages

Deleting documents

Absorbing the first draft

Distilling core elements

Repurposing words

Reframing sentences

Tweaking ideas

Morphing the narrative

*

Writing is rewriting

Each page reflecting

Pages of content

Rough, messy drafts

Chaotic paragraphs

The embers of which

Light up the new fire

Burning bright in coherence

Coalescing, to make sense

Revised, refurbished

The final presentation

Ready, the book written

The first draft forgotten…

It was so easy to say,

“This is not my job” that day

The client needed assistance, it was clear

But her need was outside the sphere

Of my work duties, I would not be looked at unfavorably

For not providing requisite assistance, you see…

**

I prepared to conclude the meeting, expressing regret

I stopped to look at her face, and I shall never forget

The juxtaposition of sadness and self-respect that was revealed

On her countenance, she had solemnly appealed

Before me her case, without being angry or shedding copious tears

Something about her poise unsettled me, after all these years

I still remember how her demeanor made me feel

I had to find a way to help her, it was an epiphany revealed

**

Where there is a will, there is a way

That is what the wise always say

To find a solution, once I made up my mind

The path became clearer, the purpose well-defined

It turned out to be an issue larger in magnitude

Than I had thought during that interlude

I got drawn into an issue that somehow turned out

To be eerily close to my heart, no doubt

This was my fate, how it was meant to be

I was destined to drift into this uncharted territory

**

I am an ordinary person and never thought I could inspire

A whole movement, but that was how fate conspired

She and I joined hands to fight the establishment

That had created her original predicament

Our efforts succeeded beyond our imagination

As more women joined us we became an organization

One thing led to another, we gathered enough momentum

To change laws, transform lives, we have become

A women-centric force to reckon with today

I thank the powers above that she crossed my way…

How could I forgive, I would say

Those who harmed me that day

They were people who robbed me

Of my life as it was meant to be..

I had nightmares, I could not sleep

The wounds from that insult did run deep…

Angry I remained, I could not move on

I wanted retribution for the wrong

That had been inflicted on me

So I just wallowed in self pity..

**

As time passed, our paths never collided

Their lives and mine never coincided

I held on to anger, in my obduracy

Unable to convince myself it was a fallacy

I don’t know if my anger affected their lives at all

But on my life, my anger was taking a heavy toll

**

That I could forgive, never occurred to me

Until I chanced upon “book therapy”

As I read spellbound about an Auschwitz survivor

I realized forgiving was doing myself a favor…

I worked hard to let go and grant forgiveness

Finally I closed the chapter on my emotional distress.

*

I understand it is hard to forgive

But holding a grudge is hardly conducive

To living a life of contentment

Where unresolved anger is the driving sentiment..