Passion…unbridled

Twenty-four hours I have in a day

Surely they are plenty for work and play

I need to work ten hours, anything less

Might make me appear lazy, I confess

But what is the point of working all day

If work is not followed by evident display

Of activities of leisure, that showcase

My disposable income, my refined tastes

So dining out, parties, and travel to places exotic and mundane

Jostle for space in my over-scheduled life,

barely leaving me sane

Ownership of expensive objects is so out of date

I need novel experiences to expand my discerning palate

Posting an instagram picture of the perfect mountaintop view

Is as satisfying as the vista itself, I tell you…

So what if all the travel has worn me out

Surely a little less sleep I can do without

Then there is caffeine to help me go the extra mile

And endure my fuller than full life with a smile…

**

Just when I am wondering if all the boxes usual

Have been checked in every fashion possible

I get a reality check from who else but my son

Who, when asked about his idea of fun

Replies that flying paper airplanes with his cousins

Trumps all the travel, all the luxury trappings..

**

Trust a child to throw you in to a state of introspection

Re-evaluate priorities, perform an honest dissection

Of your life- that is where I am at right now

Thinking of scaling back on activities to allow

Myself breathing space, and time to see

How a fulfilling life ought to be…

She screamed silently, yet again

At the sexist allusion to her brain

Spoken in a tone of condescension

Quite clear was the insinuation

Her competence was being questioned, without

Knowledge of the situation, no doubt

Because of her gender…

As if being a woman, petite, slender

Was enough for a man to discredit

Her qualifications, disregard her merit

As a physician in a field competitive 

With instances like this daily she had to live

She could feel the rage building up each day

Knowing there was nothing that she could say

To improve, for herself, this situation

Any retort would be subject to misinterpretation

Being labeled difficult would just make matters worse

For her in the professional universe…

**

Like women around her, she had learnt to ignore

Being called “sweetie”, “honey”, “cutie” and more

Yet each time this happened there was a surge

Of rage within her- it would be on the verge

Of overt manifestation, until it was restrained 

By years of conditioning, she had been trained

To disregard such words, totally inappropriate

To address a doctor, a colleague or a subordinate-

She had been referred to as such by everyone-

Patients, seniors, staff, mentors- ad nauseum

Each time, though, she resented how these words undermined

Her professional status- disrespected her capable mind.

**

Then there were those remarks, snarky and snide

When being a competent doctor and a “good” mother she tried

Enraged her, though once again she cried out

In private, further criticism she could do without..

**

Working in a misogynistic world, she seethes inside

Works even harder to prove herself, her anger she hides

Accomplished women everywhere face similar predicament

They scream quietly, rage is their driving sentiment..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I know the situation is grim, the prognosis not good at all-

There is yet another procedure, which gives a chance, albeit small

For improvement in your condition, I cannot but offer it to you

There is no guarantee it would work, could be harmful too

It could give you some longevity, but simultaneously compromise

The quality of your life- I believe that comes as no surprise

I know  everything we have done so far has kept you

Alive, but bouncing from hospital to  rehabilitation and home too…

You agree to the procedure because you have a will

To survive, which trumps quality of life still

**

I am the one who suggested this “n”th procedure

Whether this is the best thing to offer, I am not sure

I must admit I have serious doubts it would work for you

In the long-term- I’m afraid my fears would come true

Then, the other part of my brain chides me on my doubt

Because my duty is to offer every possible way out

Of this illness, how can a treatment option I not present

If it exists for this condition, these options are meant

To help you make a fully informed decision

But I know you rely on my judgment as your physician..

**

There is the part of me that wants to present outright

Options to do nothing more to fight

A losing battle against your disease process

Hanging on to the meager odds of success

Focus on palliation, and find ways to measure

Quality not quantity, help you do things to treasure

The remaining moments of your life with your family

Spend resources on keeping you comfortable, pain-free…

If I do that, however, a part of me believes I have failed

What is the point of the collective heights we have scaled

In treating illnesses that even two decades ago

Left us with no options except to let a patient go

It is hard to pull back when an option does exist

The possibility of improved survival is hard to resist..

**

Then I try the ultimate decision-making tool

What if I were the patient- I know I cannot fool

Myself- In my heart I know I would choose

To forego this procedure, I would rather lose

Months of my life than spend them in pain

With this clarity, I go back to my patient again

To talk to them about the less invasive option

I present to them the idea of palliation…

As a child, to me adjectives were just words

Used to qualify people and objects in the world

I thought adjectives had a purpose singular

To serve as vehicles of description- it did not occur

To me that adjectives could serve as instruments

Of bias, bigotry, and pronunciation of judgment

Some adjectives were obvious, others more nuanced

Around deep-seated prejudices, some seemed to dance 

In the real world they were labels that had been assigned 

By the privileged to those they considered inferior in their mind…

**

When I was naive, I used adjectives to adorn my language

To appear more erudite, or precocious for my age

I chose words carelessly,  oblivious that they were derived

From preconceived notions that I carried inside

I never even thought about the impact of my words

I thought anyway that I was insignificant in the world

**

As a newly minted physician I had to describe every day

People- their  behavior, their complaints, their pain in different ways

Unthinking, one day I called a patient hysterical

She was in the throes of delirium- a diagnosis clinical

I am grateful to my mentor for calling me out-

The word “hysterical” showed gender prejudice, no doubt

Moreover, it was judgmental and inaccurate

And did not help in treating her clinical state..

**

As the grip of social media gets stronger every day

Polarized opinions come to light in different ways

Filters disappear behind the cloak of the internet

Describing people/ things to those we have never met

Makes the use of stronger adjectives easier still

Without meaning to, our words can kill

Someone’s morale, pride or sentiments

Unknowingly, we could come across as vehement..

**

Wise men have said- you cannot take back words once spoken

(Or released into the world wide web, or for me, in a patient chart written)

Therefore a conscious effort I now make in my choice

Of adjectives, sometimes at the cost of losing my unique voice..

**

On a lighter note, my favorite adjective I shall share here

On social media, everything is “awesome”, but I do not care!

This verse is in light of recent events in India regarding violence towards doctors.

You placed me on a pedestal, but God I was not..

***

Yes I recall the day when before you I stood

My sterile gown caked with blood, giving news good

In the operating room, I had passed a grueling night

My team had emerged victorious in the fight

To save your child-  from a touch and go situation

We had finally achieved stabilization

Do you know while you showered praises on me

Comparing me to a celestial being in some galaxy

I felt relief powerful, and fatigue profound

Drained of adrenaline, I longed for sleep sound.

For God I am not, and after being awake

For 36 hours, enthusiasm I could not fake

I was grateful to a higher power for the opportunity

To be a part of your child’s journey

***

You demonized me, but a demon I am not..

***

I lie on the hospital bed in excruciating pain

Flashbacks of your face contorted with fury and disdain

Torment me as I recall the blows that you showered on me

I never expected assault even in dreams of nightmarish quality

I know you don’t believe me, but hard I tried

To saved your loved one’s life, but against him was the tide

I am not God, I do not possess

The elixir of eternal life- I do confess

The disease was advanced, age was against him too

My team left no stone unturned , nothing more we could do

Isn’t everyone mortal, placed on earth to eventually die?

Then why do you hold me alone responsible, why?

I was never God, nor am I the demon that you call me

What do you aim to achieve by the violence against me?

My bones are broken, my heart even more

This experience has shaken me to the core

I am an ordinary human being, trying to earn

An honest living, like most folks under the sun

I know my profession demands some sacrifice

But senseless violence is too unfair a price…

***

I have neither the powers nor designs

Of either God or a demonic mind

A human am I with skills acquired

Through years of study and training required

I provide service and if you are dissatisfied

You may seek redress in legal ways nationwide

For fear of my life, I plead to you,

I am but a human being too…

“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live”

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

Time and again I had heard

Some sort of a variation on these words-

If you wanted something badly enough

The world would conspire to get it on your turf-

Yet I never found this to be true

The more tenaciously I stuck to

My utmost desires, the more they appeared

To go further away, instead of coming near

It’s not that I was indulging merely

In wishful thinking to fulfill desires I held dearly

I thought I labored towards my goals as best as I could

Yet, how the goal drifted further I never understood

It almost seemed as if I was destined

To have fate play tricks with my mind

I felt unhappy, defeated, demoralized

It seemed my dreams would never be realized…

***

Not content with leaving my goals unachieved

I tried to probe further, not sure where it would lead

An honest introspection into my desires

Revealed that my expectations were higher

When there was something I badly wanted to get

In my burning desire to achieve, I would often forget

To appreciate what I already had in my possession

And focus single-handedly on my obsession

Maybe my single-minded approach was obstructive

Thinking about something constantly was counterproductive

On probing deeper another discovery I made

My goals drifted higher with my progress, ensuring I stayed

Unfulfilled where my aspirations were concerned

The fire within me was leaving me burnt..

**

Since this realization I have tried

To separate my dreams and the efforts applied

To let go of my desires to my best extent

So I don’t feel the pinch of disappointment

If things don’t work out- while if they do,

I might actually enjoy seeing my dreams come true…

This is a poem about postpartum depression- an underrecognized and undertreated illness.

Time and again she was told, it would be natural

From within her would spring forth love maternal

Nights without sleep would have no adverse impact

All her fatigue would be vanquished, in fact..

By  gazing lovingly at the countenance

Of her bundle of joy- everyone said this with confidence

She pictured her baby tucked in the crib she had decorated

In the final weeks, breathlessly the baby’s arrival she awaited

**

The idyllic picture she had in her mind

Was soon to be distorted, as she would find

Childbirth was not smooth, roadblocks she encountered

Coming home with the baby, her confidence floundered

She felt weak, infirm, inadequate in every way

To take care of a new life, night and day.

**

She thought she would be naturally endowed

With the ability to feed her baby, yet progress was slow

Frustrations were many, opinions abundant

Perfectly well-meaning folks made her feel incompetent

Colicky cries made her days and nights worse

Was this a boon, when it was shaped like a curse?

Isolated at home, exhausted beyond all measure

She felt that motherhood gave her no pleasure..

What should have been fun added to her misery too

Like the newborn photo-shoot, which she had to do

It was de rigueur among her acquaintances

Costly though it was to keep up appearances..

She teared up easily, but misconstrued were those tears

To be  borne out of love and exaggerated maternal fears

How she felt, how she was coping were of no concern

To anyone- all the attention the newborn seemed to earn

**

As she sank deeper into an abyss, yet another blow appeared

She needed to go back to work after three weeks, as she had feared

If she thought meeting colleagues would help elevate

Her mood- she was wrong- her feelings it did not alleviate

In fact, trying to burn the candle at both ends

Left her more depressed, more despondent

In a sleep-deprived stupor she seemed to operate

Walking around in a disheveled state

How could she share her state of mind with anyone?

She expected neither empathy nor comprehension

Added to the mix was constant guilt

Why was she not like a mother built?

**

It was not until the breaking point was near

That someone noticed,  by this time she feared

Harming herself, or worse, the baby some day

Getting professional help was the only way…

Tongues wagged, she felt stigmatized 

For being a “bad” mother- yet she recognized

That the help she found was invaluable

She shuddered at the potential for harm incalculable..

**

Time did fly, as it does always

With the right therapy, better were her days

Her feelings of depression had made a retreat

Finally she could taste motherhood sweet.

 

(Image source: https://www.dawn.com/news/1361022)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ganga is the life-blood of India, venerated as a goddess, but shares the dubious distinction of being the sixth most polluted river in the world).

I originated on Earth, deep in the high mountains,

You concocted that I had from heavens descended

I surged ahead, through hills, valleys, plains

To the eastern sea- in the subcontinent I subtended

An area vast, nourishing forests and pastures green

You settled on my banks in your earthly pursuits-

Through the history of this nation,  I have been

A silent witness while you have enjoyed my fruits

From birth to death and everywhere in between

At  fairs, festivals, weddings- my name is invoked

You lighten your burdens, consider yourself clean

Of your sins- once your body in my folds has soaked…

**

You built me up from the start, my status was elevated

To a goddess at times, at times a mother

I believe with all this respect I should be elated

For I hold a distinction unlike any other

River, lake, sea, mountain on this earth

Yet I have a grievance I need to air-

Of complaints I have heard, there’s been no dearth

So I should say something, it is only fair…

**

I have been soiled, polluted, desecrated

Increasingly by you, over the years

Even though my name is venerated, 

My waters are not, I fear..

I have given life, but life is being drained

Out of me slowly- I am forced to mourn

The loss of fauna that I have sustained

In my waters, the flora that I have borne

You invoke my name, yet you know

My waters for consumption are not pure

You take a dip in my waters that flow

But why do you expect salvation any more?

Sullied by your ambition, tainted by greed

Tormented  by your indifference am I-

I continue to provide redemption to those in need

Setting souls free, swallowing mortal remains when you die..

If  a passive observer were to observe in detail

His life- I can tell you they would certainly fail

To identify any source of unhappiness gross

He had sailed through life without suffering a major loss

Had checked all the boxes, fulfilled every expectation

That one might have from someone  in his situation

Found a well-paying and challenging profession

Married the right woman, had two children in succession

Both were easy to raise, good health graced everyone

What more could one ask for under the sun?

**

Life appeared to move along at a fast pace

He was one of the frontrunners in the race

Yet he felt unsettled, more so every day

Harbored thoughts of moving away

From everything he had- he wanted to achieve

Something more, he wanted to believe

That something special he was placed on earth to do

Not knowing what it was, he felt increasingly blue

Existential angst had invaded his life near-perfect

Leading to a profound negative effect..

He read and researched everything he could find

To ease existential thoughts away from his mind

Nothing seemed to help despite hours spent

Searching for answers, to any great extent.

**

Missing from his life was the notion

Of spirituality or organized religion

Praying was a waste of time, he thought…

Religious intervention was the last thing he sought

Then, one day, he stumbled upon by mistake

A congregation in a church, for courtesy sake

He sat with his hands folded through the service

Listened carefully, in these matters he was a novice

The realm of spirituality that he found

Had a calming effect on him profound

He discovered the powerful effect of prayer

There was no looking back from there

His existential dilemmas faded away as time passed

He had found salvation in  prayer at last.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What would you like to own, that is truly yours?

*

I hope you own everything you wish for under the sky

But ownership of material objects rarely does anyone satisfy

You might own your business, your precious venture

That you invest yourself in, with pride you nurture

But external forces beyond your control or vision

May sometimes your prized business threaten

You might own a pet, but no one can fully own

Another living creature- you might find yourself left alone

If you own someone’s trust, that is good for you,

I sincerely hope you can carry it through

*

So coming back to the original question posed by me

What could you possess and make yours, actually?

I think the one thing we all should strive to own

Is our unique voice, the one that belongs to us alone

In a world that distracts us with its ever- increasing noise

We need to work harder to find our voice..

There is something for all of us women to remember

When we own our voice, we own our power

Then we can expand and help others find

Their voices too, so we all speak our minds..

*

Just own your voice if nothing else you own

Armed with it, you can venture into the unknown.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When someone calls me an immigrant I am confused

Not knowing in what context the word has been used-

Maybe it is just an observation about me

Because I look and pronounce words differently..

I must confess here, though, that I am insecure

What my immigrant status signifies to someone, I am not sure

Some actually mean to compliment the industriousness

That they have noted in immigrants who garner success

Yet I am afraid when I am thus identified

My efforts at assimilation are intensified

I know it is difficult for any group to include

An outsider- I definitely do not want to intrude

There maybe some who look at me

With some degree of anger and animosity

I do not know if anyone has been deprived

Of a livelihood because of me, I have not contrived

To do any such thing- in fact, as far as I know

I obtained a visa only after my employer could show

That a citizen of this country suitable for this position

Could be found- those were the grounds for my immigration

*

My immigrant status is a shadow lurking in the dark

Sometimes it stays hidden, sometimes makes a mark

I am grateful to live and work here

Yet I wish my alienness would disappear..

The enduring attribute of my immigration

Would be my life-long attempt at integration.

Later,

All unfinished patient charts I will complete

Documenting in detail is no small feat

I’ll try to coherently word my impression

In a sea of irrelevant information

When boredom and fatigue creep in late at night

With some more caffeine, I’ll put up a fight

*

Later, 

I’ll answer work e-mails that number a million

Some of them asking for completion

Of yet another test or course that is required

To avoid suspension, or worse, getting fired

Often requiring me to use my credit card-

Proving competence as a physician has to be hard..

*

Later,

To the insurance company I shall place a call

Plead my case for my patient, likely hit a wall

Denial to approve every test, every medication

Often without any valid justification

Seems to be the new norm these days

Medical care is denied to patients in creative ways

*

Later,

I’ll call back the referring physician

Who needs to have an urgent discussion

Regarding a mutual patient- this one

Would be my first call, once I am done

In the ideal world, a colleague should not have to wait

But, whether I should be interrupted is a matter of some debate

*

All these matters that clamour for my attention

I shall willingly disregard, for this thirty-minute session

Where you, at your most vulnerable, in a state of apprehension

Tell me your story, expecting me to patiently listen

This undivided attention undoubtedly you deserve

Let me tell you also that this is the only time reserved

For me to do what I was meant to do at the end of the day

This interaction with you is my rai·son d’ê·tre in every way

While the business of medicine often leaves me disenchanted

Listening to, and examining you brings me back to what I wanted

I have many things to take care of, but they can and shall wait

You come first for me, this I shall emphatically state. 

(Image source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ancient_Greek_medicine)