Passion…unbridled

I light the earthen lamp

Inhale the deep aroma

Of the sticks of incense

Fold my hands in prayer

Before the idol of the Goddess

And with a fervor intense

I pray to all the Goddesses

I know, they do not ride lions

But they have extra hands invisible

That work and serve tirelessly

Unlike Durga’s trident, their strength

Lies inside them, with an invincible

Spirit in the face of adversity

Many demons they slay

Of Suppression, Domestic Violence

Objectification, Toxic Patriarchy

The Goddess lives inside them

I, with all my reverence

Anoint the idol before me

And pray to the real Goddesses I see

Too many responsibilities I try to take on

Finding myself running a marathon

At work and home, every single day

Tasks off my mental list I tick away

The feeling of accomplishment is real, no doubt

But slowly, gradually, I am inching towards burnout…

My cup whose capacity I considered infinite

Is emptied out completely every night

I barely get a chance to fill it in the figurative sense

I continue to run, at my sanity’s expense..

I want to project a smiling face always

Instead I show brusque efficiency these days

Irritability and short temper accompany me

Good vibes don’t emanate from a cup empty

Let me pause, slow down, daydream, smell the flowers

Let me forget my superwoman powers

Let me fill my cup with thoughts positive

Thus replenished, more to the world I can give..

There was a time when I thought

Being traditional was not

Compatible with a progressive mind

Since my worldview was more aligned

With liberalism, I wanted to explore

Everything new, I hungered for more

Experiences to understand the world around me

My culture was relegated to dormant history..

*

Reinventing myself as I went on my way

Broadening my vistas every day

Breaking barriers passed down by tradition

I pushed boundaries to realize my ambition

Felt restless, unmoored despite it all

My original self I could not recall..

*

One day I received an invitation online

To join a group celebrating that garment fine

The traditional saree- a timeless attire

I joined the group, and felt a strong desire

To drape six yards of elegance around my frame

After that, things were just not the same..

*

The saree was the proverbial portal for me

Making me embark on a journey

Back in time, back to the cultural abundance

That I had abandoned in my ignorance

I reconnected with stories, music, dance and art

Of my culture, they are but an inalienable part

Of who I am, they represent where my roots still lie

The roots that undeniably gave me my wings to fly…

Corners, too many in my abode…

Rabble of objects

Hidden everywhere

Unfinished projects

Interrupted ideas

Incompleteness everywhere

Works in progress

Languishing in despair

Dried liquids, caked powders

Chains tangled and twisted

Jewelry, clothing, lying unworn

Knick-knacks I’d forgotten existed

Journals, some rough at the edges

Pages filled with disjointed prose

Some with covers pristine, less used

Filled with writing less verbose

Notes, greeting cards, invitations old

For future inspiration tucked away

Colors faded, gathering dust

Bent, torn, to be discarded one day

Without as much as a second look…

The clutter, its scale, its ability

To fill every available nook

Sends me into a stance of immobility..

Who said things of beauty

Should bring you joy forever

Collectively they create eyesores

Seeing clutter robs me of pleasure..

Children look up to their parents

Mothers and fathers strength epitomize

But my parents were new immigrants

Always meek, afraid- it took me long to realize

How strong they were- forced to seek asylum

In a country where they knew neither language nor custom

They tried to earn a living honest

Stretched thin, they did strive to give their children the best

**

When I was young, I did not understand

Their obsequiousness, apologies constant

I was angry whenever I saw them not take a stand

Against insults and injustice, they remained silent

I knew the language, was learning in school

Principles of equality, liberty etc.- but I was a fool

Equal before law does not necessarily mean

Equal in society-we lived at the fringes, largely unseen

My parents worked quietly, in the background

Noticed only when they made a mistake

They would rectify their errors without making a sound

As if indifferent to insults, after all money was at stake

**

Ah, money is what makes the world revolve

Our lives revolved around it too

My parents worked with a steely resolve

To put food on the table, any honest work they would do

Workers’ rights, benefits, equality of pay

Did not concern them in any way

Their docility often caused me aggravation

Much later I understood their situation..

**

Language was a barrier hard to break

They learnt English, but spoke with a painful accent

Also a very long time it does take

To learn language that cultural nuances represents

Those insults, the blows to their self-respect that I perceived

They were partly shielded from, they were able to quietly receive

Because the language used they did not understand

It helped them survive in a foreign land..

**

I have seen their confidence grow

With every milestone attained

They look you in the eye, their eyes glow

Their initial fear has now waned

I have, as their daughter, found

A respect for their early tribulations profound

Their strength did lie in their being meek

Their actions spoke when in words they could not speak..

Is there a foolproof method, she asks in a low voice

After I go through every available choice

I shake my head, birth control methods work when they do

But they can, and do, fail too

No pill, no device, no depot shots can be

Used with 100% guarantee

**

I look at her, her eyes show desperation

I see the baby in the stroller, and the situation

Is now clear to me- I know she is eighteen years old

With an infant- I see the unmistakable epicanthic fold

She had a baby too young, with anomalies congenital

She does not want another, afraid of the cost, mental and financial

Of bringing another baby into her world, with support none

We are in Texas, so an abortion is out of the question

If she gets pregnant, even if the child has congenital issues

She would have to give birth- imagining the plight of someone in her shoes

I shudder, then proceed to repeat the options

For birth control- I suggest use of a combination…

**

The vicious law passed by clueless men

Has taken choice over their bodies away from women

I cannot change the law, but with birth control education attempts I can make

To give her some control of her body, for every woman’s sake

Research as I understand, is supposed to be

A process of painstaking complexity

Performed by diligent people who have studied

Extensively on a topic- now waters have been muddied-

In this pandemic, suddenly everyone has become

A master of research, it’s no longer a domain for some

All view-points should equally valid be

An expert’s opinion should hold the same weight as one from you or me

Searching within the complex algorithms of sites online

For “facts” to validate one’s beliefs is just fine-

To pass off as research, used to argue and debate

With health care professionals, or vehemently state

One’s point of view in posts with polarizing content

That is not research, for any purpose or intent

A major disservice this is to all those working incessantly

In research on the pandemic, the virus, vaccines- to free

The world from the pandemic- why would their end-goal be different

They use science, not social media “research”, to justify their intent…

(Image source: http://www.patheos.com)

Agonizing, each moment

Going through the day, a torment

Unfocused, unmoored in an anxious wait

In a turmoil, trying to project a calm state

Eyes wide open, but blunted sight

Ears that hear, but listen, not quite

A plastic smile, trying to hide

The tsunami raging inside

Destiny hanging in balance delicate

Test results with power to upturn fate

Benign or malignant, the odds are even here

It could be worse than imagined- is the constant fear

The phone rings, her heart stops for a second, it seems

As she braces herself to face the demise of her dreams..

So many things in the world appear

Incomprehensible to me, I fear

The many unknowns that surround me

Nebulous problems whose solutions I cannot see

To keep my sanity, to try to bring some measure

Of order in my world, to bring amid chaos, pleasure

I flex my creative muscle, albeit weak

Some form of creative expression I then seek

Be it writing, art, creating a dish new

Or adorning myself- I try to do

Something that breaks the monotony

Of a fixed routine, makes me think differently

I give my limited imagination free rein

To harness creativity, slowly I regain

My outlook positive- I know this for certain

Endorphins thus released drive away my pain…

**

My creative muscle gets stronger with use

And quickly develops atrophy from disuse

Thus I try to carve out time to germinate

An idea new-and find my happy state..

The devil himself must have designed our destiny

We can’t find a reason why else it would be

That not just once but repeatedly we find

While the world makes progress, we get left behind

Barely from the middle ages we had emerged

Now a new tsunami has left us submerged

In the abyss of a bloody ocean

Without any warning, without premonition

We are mere puppets in invisible hands

Decisions made by important folks in distant lands

Turn our lives backwards in the blink of an eye

Here we are, before being able to comprehend why,

Back to living under the shadow of fear

Back to shedding silent faceless tears

Suddenly we find ourselves struggling to comply

With archaic rules, we scramble to buy

Burqas- those head to toe coverings designed

To subjugate our souls, our bodies and minds

Forget about any aspirations we might hold dear

It is for our lives and safety that we fear..

**

Why have our stoic Afghani women

To suffer repeated violence been chosen?

We hope against hope there is some justice reserved

For us-for our aggressors to get what they deserve

(Image source- quotesgram.com)

We don’t practice paternalistic medicine

Shared decision-making is what we believe in

We go over options, the patient and the physician

Weigh pros and cons, personal preferences and come to a decision

We may recommend strongly, but pushy we are not…

This is something that’s lately weighing on my mind a lot-

Most patients are willing to take medications as prescribed

As long as trust in our competence is not compromised

Yet in the face of a pandemic, it seems we are less effective

In motivating patients to get a vaccine that can give

Them immunity from serious illness and death

We plead with naysayers, thinking of those struggling for their breaths

Yet outright rejection, indignation, even anger we face

When we bring up vaccination, as if we’ve said something out of place…

It is disheartening that in the same encounter,

Acceptable are recommendations all other

The echo chamber of anti-vaccinators has a powerful voice

A million scientific arguments cannot sway their choice

Any further attempts are viewed as paternalism

And that, it seems, further widens the schism…

**

I feel demoralized and defeated yet I try once again

To advocate for the vaccine, maybe this effort would not go in vain

I think of those suffering, and my efforts are redoubled

That’s the only step I can take in these times troubled..

Filtered, airbrushed in pictures, botoxed in real life

Flawless, perfect, unblemished face

The right skin tone, gloriously sun-kissed

Not a strand of hair out of place

Perfectly pouting in a lovely location

(COVID cannot ruin photoshoots after all)

Masterful editing used to convert

Into a majestic cascade a local waterfall

Half a million subscribers need content new

To live their fantasies vicariously

More views mean more endorsements too

Balanced on these numbers precariously

Sits her career as a social media influencer, therefore

She hashtags “no filter”- the market for authenticity is high

She brushes aside the intermittent twinges of guilt

And proceeds to post to social media her clever lie..