Passion…unbridled

In a cafe let us meet

Enjoy coffee and something sweet

Watch people surreptitiously

And do what people have done repetitiously

In cafes around the world for centuries

Discussing ideas while sitting at ease

Maybe we would brainstorm and come up

With a brilliant idea for a new start-up

Maybe the alertness brought on by coffee

Would lead us to a new discovery

Or maybe we all would get galvanized

To create a revolution organized

While discussing issues that arouse our passion

(In a cafe started the French Revolution!)

If we did any of these things, we would be

Following the well-travelled roads of history..

 

From time immemorial cafes around the world

Have as catalysts for political change served

Fuelled by coffee, men polarized in their views

Have debated heatedly, created breaking news

Intellectually inclined folks have conducted discourses

On science and philosophy, setting into motion forces

That have changed the course of history

How cafes facilitate that is not a mystery-

A lot can happen over a cup of coffee, we know

When you have time on your hands, and nowhere to go

With company of  people who think the same way-

Coffee, time and great ideas make a perfect day!

 

On this rainy day let us all convene

In our favorite cafe, that has seen

Highlights of our lives over the last decade

We shall not let our camaraderie fade

Even if nothing earth-shattering we create

We can take burdens off each other’s plates

We shall warm our bodies with coffee, and

Our hearts with stories shared among friends…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[DREAMers: defines individuals in the U.S. who were brought to the country at an early age without documentation but have assimilated to U.S. culture and have been educated by U.S. school systems]

Some days and moments stay imprinted on your mind

That opened your eyes to realities to which you were blind-

 

I was a straight A student, no question there had been

That I would go to college, my future path seemed pristine

I would bag a scholarship, proud would my parents be

I would make their sweat and tears count, set them free

From the tyranny of toiling away sixteen hours in a day-

They had crossed many hurdles in their way

Coming to America on a limb, in an attempt to give

Better opportunities to me, a better life to live

 

So I began the process of applying for college admissions  

And realized that through the years there had been an omission

On the part of my parents- they had not let me know

That I was “undocumented”- the news came as a blow

Suddenly my world was turned upside down

I could be deported, forced to leave the town

That was the only home I could remember

Yet, instead of leaving for college in September

I could be headed to the country which was essentially

A completely foreign land with a nearly alien language for me!

 

I could not wrap my head around the whole concept-

We were all undocumented- how, I could not accept

My parents were small-business owners, paying taxes too

And I, an American, all the way through

I was angry- at life, laws, my parents included

I thought I was American- turned out I was deluded

 

I am a DREAMer- that’s the label I carry 

I am in college now, yet the uncertainty is scary

The idea of being deported sends shivers down my spine

I would be uprooted, this country is mine-

This country has invested in me, and I want to

Invest back in it, pay back my dues…

(Image source:https://www.billboard.com/articles/news/lifestyle/7988878/what-end-of-daca-could-look-like-personal-account)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Different challenges people for themselves set

Announcing them somewhere on the internet

To gain publicity, or for accountability

It is trendy to challenge our abilities..

So I gave myself a challenge, announcing on “Goodreads”

That every single day for a month, a book I would read

Now forty-five days later, forty-five books I have read

On a variegated literary diet I stand well-fed

What did I achieve? That is something I cannot explain

I was already an avid reader, I did not need to “train”

To read a book fast enough to complete it in a day

You might ask if this obsession got in the way

Of my work, of other tasks to be completed

Surprisingly, reading a book a day never depleted

My time significantly, what it did actually

Was that each book became my best ally

For the day- enticing me away from TV and shopping online

As books worked their magic, I had less time to whine

Different worlds I experienced with each book read

Some barely touched me, with others tears were shed

From stories set centuries ago to politics contemporary

My selection of books was fairly arbitrary

Browsing through collections at my local library each weekend

Became a ritual of sorts, a gainful way to spend

My time- checking out as many books as I could 

Selecting books on varied topics such that I would

Be forced to move out of my comfort zone 

My reading choices expanded, I never felt alone

As books became my companions constant

I felt happy that my time was well spent

This was a challenge, which has reached completion

Now I shall withdraw from my self-imposed competition

Still continue to read daily, though not a book every day

I have waxed poetic about it enough, that’s all I had to say!

Greed is a bottomless pit which exhausts the person in an endless effort to satisfy the need without ever reaching satisfaction. –Erich Fromm

I thought from my parents I had imbibed

Through my childhood, values right

Growing up, undue emphasis on money we did not place

Life was supposed to be much more than a race

To acquire more wealth, accumulate comforts material

Our goals were supposed to be loftier, less tangible..

Maybe I was not as strong as I thought I would be

In the face of temptation, I swayed ever so slightly

At first, the lure of more money was accompanied

By other rewards, and an eager need

To be recognized in my field, which, after all, 

Had a philanthropic aspect to it, though small

So I worked harder, giving myself the justification

That there was nothing wrong in pursuing ambition

It would only be for a few years, until I was established

Then I would cut back on work, and lead the life I wished

I marvel at my naivete during those early years

I wish more powerful had been my fears

About getting stuck in the rat race 

So I could have retracted from that slippery place…

Neglecting my life at home and my family

I did not realize when the fine line was crossed by me

Between healthy ambition and vile greed

The desire for more was constantly justified as need

What’s more, productivity was encouraged and applauded

So, for my greed, I was constantly being rewarded

Therefore, ignoring migraines, heartburns and such

I worked harder to acquire more, at no point it was too much

I should have known I was headed for a burnout

The writing was on the wall, but I was too busy running about

To pay attention to it, so when I had a mental breakdown

I finally took notice, and heard the sirens sound

I then realized how the slippery slope of greed

Had robbed me of my prized possessions indeed-

Peace of mind and sound sleep at night- 

I had given up both without a fight…

That too, for nothing, because insatiable is greed

Continuously presenting each want as a need

I learnt my lesson, my greed I vanquished

Got back the life of values for which I had wished

I think I am fairly qualified

To give an opinion on the matter at hand

Yet when I present my side

Of reasoning, they seem unable to stand

The fact that I have spoken- after all, who am I

To comment on matters important

I am expected to remain submissive and shy

To refrain from an opinion even when present

 

As soon as I have finished, I get a smile

Followed by a condescending comment

By now I have figured out the board members’ style

My ideas for them are pure entertainment

Then one of them proceeds to explain things to me

Like I am slow of mind or imbecile

Let me assure you, I am neither or I wouldn’t be

In this boardroom, in fact I have gone the extra mile

To be where I am, so I probably have qualifications

That exceed theirs’- I analyze problems thoroughly too

I should not have to give any justification

In expressing exactly what I want to.

 

I am frankly perplexed and sometimes amused

At how men continue to disregard opinions that women present

Many do it subconsciously, though they might refuse

To acknowledge any misogyny, they support equality in sentiment

From the average workplace meeting to the presidential debate

“Manterruption” appears to be a universal male trait

 

Hear me out gentlemen, I have something to say

If it came from a man, this idea would be lapped up today

So lend me your time and attention valuable

I am confident of bringing new ideas to the table

 

I cannot help feel a pang of jealousy

When I see a bird fly over me…

It is free to fly in any direction

No border can restrict that freedom…

 

Then I shake my head at the sheer absurdity

Of comparing myself to a bird that is free

I am a mere human, who happened to be 

Born on the wrong side of the border, you see

Where poverty, drugs and organized crime

Were making life difficult with the passage of time

My nest was in peril, unlike a bird I could not teach

My children to fly, to free them from the enemy’s reach…

 

 

Leaving home is never a decision taken lightly

The hazards of crossing the border were known to me

Yet what do you do when each day is spent in fear

Of losing the ones you hold near and dear?

I could keep existing, but it killed me each day

To watch childhood being taken away

From my children- I had to find a way to provide 

A better life for them, to venture across the divide-

We could swim across the river treacherous

Or venture through the scorching desert perfidious

We could perish, and attain salvation thus

If we made it across alive, that would be a plus

 

Yes, we survived, my children and I

We crossed the border, our hopes did not die

 

We are undesirable statistics, we are aware

We work hard, knowing life is not fair

Life on this side of the border is not easy

But my children have been restored the carefree

Childhood they deserve-that was my sole aim

In crossing the border, yes, I take the blame

 

The birds are flying south, the border they will cross

While I thank God for my gains, and mourn my loss..

Image: (Painting/”Crossing Borders”/Gwynne Duncan): https://longislandwins.com/herstory/enstories-liberation-will-walk-endescaminare-hasta-el-final/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am young, and have stars in my eyes

I need to work hard, and that’s no surprise

I know academic excellence shall pave the way

For a better future that I strive towards every day

I should have my life figured out- I am seventeen

My admission essay should spell out what I have not yet seen-

I should have a clear vision of my future, that’s expected

Being competitive is a trait I have perfected

An Ivy league education followed by a six-figure salary

Are prerequisites to being successful and happy

Ambition and drive I think I have in plenty

A prosperous life for me they should guarantee..

**

My fortieth birthday I celebrate today

 

That ambitious adolescent has come a long way

That driven girl of yester-years did achieve

Her professional goals- what is generally perceived

As success, I think I can claim I have in hand

Yet the parameters of happiness, I now understand

Are very different from what I thought they would be

As a seventeen year old aspiring for a college degree

The competitive streak that I had in me

Was not conducive for happiness, I now see

To excel at everything I had been striving for throughout

Be it work, or being a supermom- even at the risk of burnout..

Turning forty, however, has made me evaluate

What I really want from my life, on my plate

I have stopped competing with others around me

I’m trying to focus on my passions, what makes me happy…

 

By the way, the girl who at the age of seventeen believed

Her life was figured out, at forty, is still trying to figure out her life indeed!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My daughter, to you I must apologize

For the compliment I gave you the other day

When I called you “pretty in your dress”, I did not realize

That years of conditioning had made their way

Into this seemingly innocuous comment of mine-

A comment that flawed perceptions did validate

Calling you pretty was an unmistakable sign

That from societal norms I find it difficult to deviate-

In that moment I thought about you in your outfit

Though you were going out for a mathematics quiz

I realized my folly soon- this did not sit

Well with me at all, therefore the self-analysis..

I let you down (and myself too)

I should have focused on your intelligence

Instead I thought about your beauty, it’s true

The wrong attribute again took precedence

To your brother I would not have said

Something similar, my comment would have been

Geared towards his mental capability instead

Yet this is the discrimination I’ve seen

Over and over again, all around me

This behavior is so deeply ingrained

For a female, we think of her outer beauty

First- before we remember she has a brain

Next time I decide to pay a compliment

To a girl- in my choice of words I shall be conscious

I shall think of each field in which she is competent

Only then on physical attributes shall I focus

This is what I shall endeavor to do, my daughter

And if I fail, give me a gentle reminder..

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think about this every single day

Why did my life have to turn this way?

 

Don’t get me wrong, I know I am in luck

I am still alive, I am no longer stuck

In the hellhole that my country has become

Fortunate to get asylum are only some

Here I am in a land that has accepted me

On its soil, albeit hesitantly

Beggars cannot be choosers, you might think

Yes, the war did bring me to the brink

Of begging for my life and freedom

To knock at doors of anyone who would welcome

A refugee fleeing from the horrors of war

I cannot believe I have come so far

From the respectable citizen I used to be

Before my country was thrown into savagery

 

Yes, I am living, and my family is well too

Considering everything my people have gone through

Yet something in me is broken, beyond repair

I find it hard to see beyond the veil of despair

I was a manager, now I work in a store

For minimal wages, to feed my family of four

Yes, I am grateful that a job I could find

Yet thoughts of despondency cloud my mind

I am afraid that my feeling of insecurity

Will continue, throughout life, to haunt me

 

Then there is the survivor’s guilt I cannot shake

From my mind, news from my country threatens to break

Me into pieces, each time I hear stories of horror

Of innocents dying, including young children and mothers

If prayers have some power, fervently I pray

For this madness to stop, every single day

 

Yes, I think about it constantly

How the senseless war has torn my country

Forcing countless people like me

To be labeled “refugees”

But I am alive, I remember with gratitude

As I set out for my job with fortitude..

(Image: The Global Refugee Mural by Joel Bergner:  https://myhero.com/action_ashe_global_refugee_2011)

 

 

 

 

 

I am here to share with you my history

I am grateful for the lesson life has taught me

To recount my story, finally I feel bold

Because the consequences of it remaining untold

Would weigh heavily on my rather fragile heart

I am not proud of it, but let me start…

 

Growing up I took my privileges for granted

Living in a wealthy neighborhood, whatever I wanted

Was mine- world travel, university education et cetera

Membership of exclusive clubs, which came with perks extra

Even though much of the world I had seen

There were places close by to which I had not been

In those circles, imperceptibly I acquired

An air of superiority and some biases undesired

I am ashamed to say that I once believed

In white supremacy, yes, I was a racist indeed…

Yet back in those days I did not realize

Any of this, because invisible to my eyes

Were people of color, they inhabited worlds different

That I could not imagine, to which I never went..

 

I must admit, that unfortunately, I did not set

The best examples for my children, I let

My prejudiced notions be passed along

To them, never thinking that I was wrong

Somehow they turned out much more liberal than me

For which I now thank God immensely

 

I know you are curious to know what led to

The “change of my heart”, I am coming to that too-

In my middle age, I developed cardiomyopathy-

A weakening of the heart, as bad as it could be

A heart transplant was needed for me to live

For that I needed a once living soul to give

Me a young healthy heart after an untimely demise

After months on the transplant list, I got my big prize

I received a change of heart, literally so

From a donor whose identity I could not know

(Complete anonymity between the donor and recipient

Of a transplant is maintained, it is a requirement)

 

Fast forward a year, having recovered remarkably

I was curious to know the donor’s family

I reached out to them following the established protocol

The donor’s mother and I decided to meet following a brief call-

 

While for an emotional encounter I was prepared

This short journey took me where I would not have dared

The address was in a decrepit part of the town

As we drove to the appointment, I could not help but frown

We stopped before a ramshackle tenement

And entered an even more dilapidated apartment

 

The lady who greeted me was considerably younger than me

She smiled, then started weeping inconsolably

She told me how her eighteen year old had died a year ago

In senseless gun violence, even though

He had been a bright kid, the first one in his neighborhood

To have been accepted to college, he was that good

Then she dried her tears and made the sign of the cross

As I mumbled uncomfortably how I was sorry for her loss

She replied she was grateful to see various recipients

Of the organs of her deceased child, it gave her strength

To go on living, because one thing she knew

Her son had been noble in his death too..

 

I had a second change of heart that day

Color distinctions in my mind melted away

Had I met my donor in life, I would not

Have associated with him- this thought

Now made me shiver, here I was, alive

Without his heart I would not have survived!

 

Since then, I have had this thought-

I survived because a lesson I needed to be taught

If not for the transplant I might have lived and died

Racially prejudiced, I might have been denied

The opportunity to learn that distinctions of color and race

In the realm of humanity, have no place..

(Image source: dnaindia.com)

Everything in his life was getting quantified

He loved numbers, this trend was justified

He used various fitness apps on his phone

What motivated him were numbers, and numbers alone-

Of calories consumed, steps walked, miles ran

To improve his life, he numerically tweaked his plans-

To subtract calories, add physical activities, some more

No wonder he had not been as fit in the days before

These apps came in his life- the hegemony of numbers extended

To other aspects of his life, his academic success depended

On the “number” of citations his papers had received

His TED talks were viewed by many, the number of views were perceived

As indicators of success in an era of  short spans of attention..

Each day he would scan his social media profiles with some apprehension

To see how many likes his posts, professional and private had received

The numbers could drive his spirits up and down indeed

He continued to count his “successes”, continued to go higher

On the professional ladder, numbers propelling him like fire..

**

He felt invincible, until out of the blue, one day

A sharp pain in his side stopped him, took his breath away

He had a serious illness for which treatment was initiated

Now all the counts, all the numbers were relegated 

To the back of his mind, as he lost count completely

Of  drugs, hospital visits, blood draws to which he subjugated meekly

At one point it seemed his days were numbered on this earth

That’s when he realized numbers had no worth..

**

Miraculously, the tide turned and he made a slow recovery

Getting back to a normal life was indeed a luxury

It took such hardship for him to realize

That the numbers that had been important in his eyes

Were meaningless, when quality of life was poor

Quality was better than quantity, of this he was now sure..

 

 

 

 

I wonder often, why in this age and day

We need to celebrate women in this way

On one day out of 365, as if the rest of the year

We as a gender do not matter in the global sphere?

Forgive me if I am harsh, but I find

The need for a separate day depressing in my mind

I am even more dismayed to read

That gender parity is 200 years away, on my newsfeed

I guess this is the day to launch one more

Hashtag campaign with renewed vigor

The campaign theme for this year is #PressforProgress

The issue of gender parity it aims to address

Words cannot express how disheartening it is to me

That work of men and women is valued differently

Knowing the statistic I have no inclination

To think of this day as a cause for celebration..

And if the statistic quoted above is true

Gender parity is a distant dream too

One that I would be unable to see

Realized in my lifetime unfortunately..

**

The day draws to a close, and I shall end

By acknowledging the power of strong women!