Passion…unbridled

“Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.”
― Abraham Lincoln

Driven by ambition and a desire to succeed

I scaled the heights at a dizzying speed

Working hard, making moves that were right

I rose to a position of power without much fight

I had principles then, my intention it was not

To compromise on them, I never had such a thought

*

At this new and powerful position that I had acquired

Enticements came my way, I received much more than I desired

I don’t know but somewhere along the way

My morals loosened, how that happened, I cannot say

From the gate that was narrow I  did deviate

Stumbled on the broad road and wide gate..

*

Power corrupts, and power absolute

Corrupts absolutely, said someone astute

I was at the pinnacle, and I was corrupted

I misused my power, uninterrupted

My subordinates feared me, for no one

Dared defy the powerful one

They knew their employment was at stake

Displeasing me once was all it would take…

*

Little did I know that drunk on power

I was mapping my destruction, every hour

My castle collapsed with a bang, and I

Lost everything I had under the sky

The power that had taken my scruples away

Was thrown back in my face, I had nothing to say

Disgraced, humiliated, I turned back and ran

To pick up the pieces, for I was a broken man

*

Sometimes I think about the days gone by

And wish I had never climbed that high

Power I was given, yet weak was I, to fall prey

To its corrupting influence, now there’s no way

That I would leave my scruples, my lesson is learnt

By taking the wide  path, I have been burnt…

 

 

 

 

 

 

You all proclaim this mantra repeatedly

Be comfortable in your skin, be carefree

Accept your body as you are

Disregard critics, and you will go far..

*

As a woman trying to find my place

In a world that still judges me by my face

And other physical attributes I care not to mention

Being comfortable in my body is a tough decision

*

What’s more, honestly, judgment is a two-way street

I have to remind myself whenever I repeat

That criticism of others which I dislike leveled at me

I try hard, yet physical attributes are what I see

*

There are days when my weight, height, color, all disappear

Beneath the exhilaration of an achievement in my career

Yet when I am downcast, my thoughts invariably

Turn towards all that is physically “not right” with me

*

All successful women in media portrayed

Are tall, slim, well-dressed- the impression thus made

Is that beauty and success are synonymous

Looking impeccable is necessary, not just a plus

*

I am still trying but the negative reinforcement

Significant barriers does present

In unconditional acceptance of myself, I must say

Maybe with grey hair I shall develop this skill one day…

I’ve had the idea for this poem for quite some time now. I always wanted to give a voice to the abandoned women of Indian mythology and history.

(1) Urmila, wife of Lakshman (brother of Rama)

You went away, following your brother in exile

You left me, expecting me to bear my burdens with a smile

The world celebrated your unparalleled devotion

To your brother, but who understood my emotions….

Left alone to my devices for fourteen long years

To care for your family, fighting back my tears

Where my existence to you irrevocably was tied

I slumbered through those years, so you could walk with pride

Knowing that you had protected, night and day

Without sleep ever getting in your way

Your brother and sister-in-law, so he could

Establish the victory over evil, of good

Not that I would not have done as I was told-

Yet know that I placed my life on hold

Waiting for you- as your “ardhangini”

I should have been with you through your journey…

**

(2) Yasodhara, wife of Siddhartha (Gautam Buddha)

My lord, the “Enlightened One”, you are well-venerated

Your life and teachings are worldwide celebrated

For an ordinary  married life steeped in domesticity

I know you never quite had proclivity…

Towards higher things in life you were inclined

May be that is why it did not cross your mind

The grief I would go through when you left me

In the haze of early motherhood, so you could be free

Abandoned I was, for no fault of my own

With our son in my arms, left alone

To raise him without a father- I did try

Each time, to give him a satisfactory reply

When he questioned why his father, unlike others,

Was not beside him and his mother..

When you gained enlightenment, I sent him to you

From a woman of the world, I became an ascetic too

Your responsibilities towards the good of the world, I know

Were greater than those towards us, and so

I buried the pain of abandonment deep inside

As I raised our wonderful son with pride

**

Throughout millennia, in this society patriarchal

Where great men have, in legend, become immortal

Countless women have sacrificed their souls for their men

Carrying, silently, wordlessly, their burdens

I wonder if history had been different

If only these women, instead of being diffident

Had protested against the unfair decisions 

To accept which they were forced into submission…

(Image sources: 1. https://www.awaaznation.com/social-issues/urmila-hidden-warrior-great-indian-epic 2. https://www.pinterest.com/pin/529735974904082965/)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

— Alain de Botton

As a voracious reader, one day I felt uninspired

By my reading list- the writing for which taste I had acquired

Appeared too repetitive, too insipid, too familiar

I desired something different, something peculiar..

*

A quick Google search enlightened me

The way to overcome my ennui

Was to find books from all over the world

When I started doing so, a new world unfurled

Before me- without leaving my home I found

I was traveling, albeit mentally, all around

*

Through countries diverse I traveled vicariously

Back and forth in time, guided by visual imagery

From far-flung islands to countries I had seen

In colorful translations and in English pristine

I went on reading “the world”, nation by nation

With each new one grew my fascination..

*

The more diverse my repertoire of books became

The more I realized how people were the same

Throughout the world- common themes I found

Stories set in the backdrop of war abound-

Through cultural differences, local customs and such

The bonds of friendship and love remain untouched

Good writing, irrespective of where it originates

Is one that with diverse readers resonates

*

One hundred and ninety-six nations there are

I have covered fifty in books, I have to go far..

A simpleton was I, my dreams limited in extent

My life was peaceful, in relative ignorance spent

Politics was something  for important men

Who deliberated in meetings, using paper and pen

For all that I knew, their promises were meant to be,

Mostly false, never to be taken seriously

Even when policies changed, seldom it was so

That anything would be expected to interrupt the flow

Of life in a nondescript town such as this one

We enjoyed uneventful days under the sun…

**

The winds of change were blowing, before I knew

They picked up speed in our direction too

A civil war whose origins I’ve never understood

Destroyed us more than a tsunami could

Mass shooting, looting, arson, curfew

Entered our town and our lives too…

**

We were simple folks, had never thought

Of leaving the land on which war was being fought

Yet living under terror, losing family and friends

Hoping against hope for the violence to end-

Reluctantly we came to the inevitable conclusion

That leaving the country was the only solution

**

If only it were that simple….a shudder runs through me

As I recall each hurdle we faced to leave our country

Fake papers, bribes, arduous travel in disguise

Journeying through the night, hiding at sunrise

Braving hunger and illness, solely propelled

By the urge for survival, those monsters we quelled..

**

Now I am settled in a new land, and have heard

Similar stories from people from some other parts of the world

We have been uprooted for no faults of our own

For our losses, we cannot help but mourn

Yet we are grateful just because we are alive

Of course that trumps inability to survive…

**

I know time cannot be turned back, but I

Shall long for that simple life till I die

Before I knew how politics would change my life

Before I knew my land would be torn by strife…

They told me education I could not receive

It did not help in the household, so they believed

*

I learnt my letters, but I was explained

Going beyond elementary school was a financial drain

*

Schooling I completed, college was out of question

For I was of age to be bound in matrimonial union

*

A college graduate I became, got a masters’ degree

I would raise smart children, er… why was a job necessary?

*

I was educated, so I joined the workforce

Only to give it up after marriage, but of course!

My husband earned well, so why did I need

To work outside the house indeed?

*

Yes, I was a working woman…yet did I tell you?

I had to adhere to a strict nighttime curfew

And in the corner of the world where I resided

I could not drive to work- the authorities had decided..

So, of course, my independence was chained

To break free from my shackles I still strained..

*

As a well-educated, modern woman, I had the privilege

Awarded by my husband and in-laws, to work after marriage

Then came the baby, and different issues arose

To maternity leave, my employers were opposed

When I took time off I was promptly replaced

My investment in my job was all a waste..

Or I was forced to quit to be a full-time mother

As I was explained, one job had replaced another..

My commitment to my career did not count

Motherhood was supposed to be overarching, paramount….

*

At different times, in different countries I have been

Stopped from pursuing my dreams, I have seen

My wings clipped off each time with explanations varied

Yet I have crossed hurdles, moved forward indeed

It hurts to see that even in the twenty-first century

The workplace is not always ready for me

How many more roadblocks do I cross in order to prove

That educated women are here to stay, men may move..

 

(Image source: https://rapidcityjournal.com/news/local/communities/belle_fourche/working-women-of-wwii/article_8cbd1130-4118-5a27-835a-36fa1be04ecb.html)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I support minimalism, at least in theory

“Lessons from shopping bans” make a capital story

Yet when faced with 60% off sales, my resolve

To refrain from buying more stuff quickly dissolves

I am “saving” for a rainy day, I rationalize

About the joy of a new purchase I fantasize

Before long, virtual objects have appeared

Miraculously in my shopping cart, and as I had feared

The “Place Your Order” button is staring at me

Of my love for minimalism, making a mockery

By this time, often I have already resigned

Myself to temptation, it is too late to rewind

The button is pressed, the order is placed

Another blow to minimalism my life has faced..

**

In a world where it is easier every day

To acquire more stuff- it’s only one click away

Curbing temptation is the hardest thing to do-

The thrill of acquiring something new

Has the feel of an overarching panacea

Shopping online seems like a good idea

To overcome boredom, anxiety, situational depression

All ills can be remedied by a new possession…

Thus stuff accumulates, when it was not meant to

Sucking time and energy from you too..

*

Maybe writing this verse will actually inspire

Me to initiate a shopping ban, and less stuff acquire…

 

 

 

 

 

Then…she was young, and starry-eyed

Brimming with enthusiastic ideas inside

That on the tip of her tongue were ready to dance

Yet seldom did, because they were denied the chance

Girls were meant to be seen, not heard

They were supposed to be careful about each word

That past their vocal cords made its way

Not that a girl should have had much to say..

So the outspoken girl that needed expression

Gradually faded, went into recession

She learnt to speak little, and less often

Especially withhold any strong opinion…

**

Now… she finds herself tongue-tied

Words within her appear to have dried

So even when injustice towards women she sees

She is silent, unable to protest audibly

Her lack of words is often misconstrued

As consent for things of which she has not approved

Unable to voice her concerns, she has continued to endure

Unkindness, cruelty, crimes, and more..

She laments her lack of a voice, but the impact

Of societal conditioning is far-reaching, as a fact

Over millenia, her free speech has been curtailed

Therefore to stand up for herself she has failed…

**

In the twenty-first century, as I pen these lines

I know I am still fortunate to speak my mind

It irks me that women are deprived of their voice,

So early that they forget they have a choice..

I dream of an utopian world

Where any woman can utter any word

Fearlessly, without any repercussion

Where she can take part in every discussion.

She entered the classroom with some trepidation

It had taken her courage to overcome her hesitation

Clutching her satchel, an empty seat she occupied

Nervously, she looked around, other women in groups she spied

Of course they looked much more confident

They must be better at expressing their sentiments

Self-doubt filled her, she wondered what had made her come here

A creative writing course existed in another hemisphere…

*

As the class began, nervously herself she introduced

A homemaker from India was hardly enough to enthuse

This group of preppy, well-dressed local women

Who appeared to have much more creative acumen

Or so she thought, however the idea she proposed

For her literary debut, albeit somewhat verbose,

Was hailed as  something interesting and unique

In comparison to others’ ideas, her’s was definitely not weak..

*

Soon they were writing chapters and reading them out

Hearing some bad writing melted away her doubts

Several of her classmates wrote stuff that she would classify

As completely unreadable, her expectations were high

She knew she had a good story to tell, and the knack

Of keeping her audience hooked, enticing them to come back

To her story to know what happened next-

She peppered her stories with various subtexts

*

It came as no surprise that as the course neared completion

Only two participants had reached conclusion

Of their summer writing projects, and it was abundantly clear

That her writing had potential- she had nothing to fear

*

Her story was set on two continents and moved skilfully

Between past and present, weaving myth and reality

Liberal use of Indian proverbs made her language one of a kind

Her instructor, duly impressed, helped her find

A suitable publisher for her manuscript, ready and revised

It turned out to be a decision quite wise

The book was designed with interesting illustrations

Within a short period it became a sensation

*

If you ask her about the book, she would start

From the first day of class, when she did not have the heart

To go forward with the course- yet now she says

Her making it to the class was a sign in a way..

 

I needed a pep-talk. So I wrote this- too idealistic, but here I am!

Like many others my age, as a young girl

I had dreams of changing the world

This was wishful thinking, I had not realized

To the world’s ways I was not yet wise..

 

Even as I grew up, the career path I chose

Seemed to suggest that I would be close

To changing the world, in my position

To heal patients as a physician

 

I encountered demands placed on life as an adult

My juvenile dreams were forgotten, as a result

I was in survival mode, yet the desire to bring about

A change in the world persisted throughout

 

Of course I am not famous, or influential

Large scale changes are beyond my mettle

Yet on thinking hard there are probably some ways

In which I make a positive change from day to day

 

When my child learns how to share

When he learns to be kind, I am aware

That in raising an empathetic child, maybe

I change the world at a minute level, positively..

 

I have no control over life and death, yet I try

To save lives guided by the One in the sky

When a patient, following my advice, improves

I have changed one life, this is in a way proved..

 

Many days I try to impart knowledge to students

Feeling uninspired, with a mutual lack of engagement

Yet once in a while I get a message thanking me

For teaching something that has helped someone considerably

In taking better care of patients- my efforts are validated

I am grateful then for this positive change I have created

 

Penning these words down I realized anew

How countless small things that we all  do

In our daily lives affect the world in a positive way

We all change microcosms of the world every day…

And when was life about measuring quantities, after all?

Every positive effort makes a difference, big or small!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Heirlooms are priceless, I think I’ve known

Away from homeland, they acquire a meaning of their own..

 

Going through the contents of my safe one day

I found the heirloom piece I had locked away

It was a necklace with beads black and gold

Family lore said it was two hundred years old

Not an ordinary piece of jewelry, this one carried

Significance of symbolizing women married

Two slender strands ending in a gold pendant

Studded with precious stones, resplendent

Passed from one generation of strong women

Of my husband’s family, connecting me to them

I fingered the “mangalsutra” that I did not wear

For its ostentation, reluctant to attract stares..

And wondered about the women who had before me

Adorned themselves with this precious beauty

Did all of them don it out of their own choice

Or was it forced upon some, who had no voice…

I wondered if the black beads had performed their duty

And saved their wearers from negative energy

It had been stolen once, so the story went

In it’s long journey, this was a significant event

On the auspicious day of Diwali it was recovered

Since then it was closely guarded, so went the word..

 

The shores of India, it left for the first time when

I brought it with me, as an article of adornment

It languished in the safe, for I could not find an occasion

That called for such splendor and ostentation

 

So I paired it with my western garb one day

Felt connected to my roots in a different way

Besides being interesting, it garnered compliments

(A pleasant side-effect, though that was not my intent)..

 

Far from home, every article that connects me

To my roots, is something to be cherished indefinitely..

(Image source:https://jharaphula.com/)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The more I climbed in the world’s eyes

The more my soul appeared to die…

*

At the pinnacle of success I was perched high

Yet part of me longed to bid goodbye

To this peak below which shaky was the ground

Ambivalent I felt about wearing the crown

The top, you know, is a place best defined

By never-ending stress on the mind…

*

I reached this height serendipitously 

The ascent too occurred precipitously

Leaving me without any time to acclimatize

I had become a celebrity long before I realized..

My story is Cinderella-esque, yet I complain

For fairy tales their fair share of woes contain

What began as an afternoon project one day

To flex my creative muscles in an unusual way

Over the next few months, became an obsession

I rushed home from work to “work” on my creations

Showcased them in a local exhibition at a friend’s request

Where, in a dream-come-true fashion, they piqued the interest

Of an entrepreneur, leading promptly to a collaboration

That became wildly successful, beyond imagination..

*

As business grew, multiple responsibilities I assumed

Worked hard to keep up with demands, as business bloomed

Of course I was happy my work had received such admiration

Yet stress coursed through my veins more often than exhilaration..

*

As my brand became international, busier I grew

Travel, TED talks, events were thrown into the milieu

I still had signature designs, but assisting me

Were other talented designers working for my company

*

My brand value climbed, my satisfaction plummeted

Despite tasting success, sometimes I regretted

That initial exposure that had catapulted me

Into the realm of business from my shell of creativity

I had soared higher, above my friends, leaving me

Excluded from their sphere, and lonely

The high that I used to get after a creative endeavor

Ebbed away- to the whims of the market I had to now cater

As a young female entrepreneur, I gained acclaim

Yet I did not gain happiness along with fame

*

Deeply depressed, seeing therapists, taking medications

Trying mindfulness, tai-chi, yoga, meditation-

One day I felt I could not take it any longer

Call me weak, but accepting defeat made me feel stronger

Before the inevitable decline began, I had decided to quit

In the world of business, I had never quite fit

So I sold my company and took a break extended

The broken parts of my soul I mended

*

My creative energy I now spend

On my own terms, I no longer bend

To the pressures of the market, my wares I sell

In local stores, supporting small businesses as well

The brand I created is still profitable

But removed from it, I am more comfortable

*

At the end of the day an artist am I-

Business definitely is not where my talents lie

I realized this in time, before depression

Could cause irrevocable harm to my person.