Passion…unbridled

Fear does not prevent death. It prevents life.

– Buddha

Somehow I know life would begin one day

At the end of my comfort zone where the way

Familiar to me would abruptly end

And I would no longer be able to pretend

That the status quo satisfactory has been

I would have to jump into the abyss unseen…

It seems while waiting for that moment

I hide behind fear, the emotion predominant

Fear seems to have such a vice grip on me

It makes me concoct stories extraordinary

To convince myself that any deviation from the norm would turn out

To be a disaster without any doubt…

**

Maybe one of these days a leap of faith I shall take

Only time would tell me if I made a mistake

But at least I would then have scored a victory

Against fear, my greatest adversary..

I look younger than my age

Why would you think that would be a cause for rage

Ageism is so deeply ingrained

Looking old should be a cause for pain

So why am I disturbed when I am called

Young like a teenager, why am I appalled

At being told to be a doctor I look too young

Why do I want to scream at the top of my lungs

Whether this is condescension or genuine surprise

I an assumed inexperienced in the patient’s eyes…

**

Yet another battle I have to fight

Race, gender and now age-there is no respite

Some folks think they are paying a compliment

When on my looking younger they comment..

There are plenty of others who tell me

To take these compliments now, before I lose youthful energy

**

We all like youth, but want experience

Can we be done with age-related pretense?

Random thoughts and ideas I find

Are eager to be transformed into words in my mind

Forming unconnected lines that I try to string

Together in verses that help me make sense of things

Placing thoughts on paper in rhyme

Makes me solve conundrums many times

Alas, these verses often interfere

With obligations in every other sphere

Such that my words I cannot

On paper, in a timely fashion jot

From my short-term memory they drift away

My verses remain unfinished for another day…

How do you suppress

Ambition that wants to possess

Every fiber of you, enslave you in every way

That burns like a fire every day

Powerful enough to paralyze

Intimidating enough to immobilize

Such that it is never translated

Into meaningful action, never lets you be satiated..

**

Ambition that wants you to leap ahead

Without allowing a slow and steady tread

Ambition that should have galvanized

You into action remains unrealized..

Ambition that leaves you thirsting for more

Ambition that causes discontent to the core

Ambition that wants you to turn a new leaf

Ambition that challenges every belief

Ambition that does not constructive remain

Ambition that destroys your peace, causes pain..

**

Can the two somehow be co-existent-

Burning desire and contentment?

If only I could a middle ground find

Where ambition spurs me to action, stimulates my mind

Does not burn me down, but allows me to thrive

With a deeper feeling of satisfaction in my life…

To yourself you must not draw attention

You do not know about the intention

Of people, known and unknown, who are looking at you

All attention has negative connotations, regard this as true

There are only two times you should get attention

First, when for academic prowess you get recognition

And second, the day you become a bride

Even then your personality you must hide

Look demure, humble, not too confident

Attention should not exceed a certain extent..

**

Always an obedient child coloring between the lines

I learnt to be wary of people’s hidden designs

Learnt to escape attention except when I was recognized

For academic excellence- that I so prized

Skilled I became at being inconspicuous

Being a silent spectator was etched in my subconscious

I led a rather insipid life in this way

But I avoided controversy and criticism I must say…

**

The corollary to lack of attention became

That despite my ability, forgotten was my name

I did little to distinguish myself from the crowd

Attention went to the voices that were loud

My quiet demeanor and diffidence appeared

As lack of confidence- that was the right assumption, I fear

In trying to thwart attention unwanted

I had lost the ability to state my views undaunted…

**

Now I am gradually learning to draw attention appropriate

To myself, I am learning to confidently state

My point of view, which may sometimes be

Dramatically different, placing the spotlight on me

In this competitive world, the right kind of visibility

Is essential to success, now I clearly see…

When people tell me to be strong, I don’t understand

What made them think that I am weak?

I have survived despite patriarchy on this land

Why should validation from men I seek?

*

I can withstand labor pains

I have seen my own blood flow

Though men may hold the reins

Of my life, they should know

I have managed home and hearth

Despite education and opportunities denied to me

To children I have given birth

And fed them, even when my body was weary

*

When I went along with decisions made for me

I was not weak, I had strengthened my body and mind

To preserve the architecture of the society

That, after all, men had designed…

*

With or without societal rights, never have I been weak

I have been strong since humankind on earth appeared

For centuries, I was denied an opportunity to speak

For myself, but now I proclaim my strength without fear..

Why do I feel the need to seek permission

As if alone I cannot make the decision

To curl up in bed, leave chores incomplete

Sleep with abandon, no deadlines meet

At work, at home, children’s assignments from school

Maybe for a day, forget all the rules..

But the idea of loosening up is scary to me

What if my carefully constructed life goes awry

Our collective sanity depends, I believe

On my meticulous planning, if I leave

Anything to chance, disaster would unfold

My family would be subjected to miseries untold..

Thus taking time out for myself does appear

An unnecessary, selfish indulgence, I fear

So even when no one imposes demands on me

I carry the burden of keeping my home orderly

And look for permission from…I realized just now

The never-ending list of tasks- that list never allows

Me to take time off, pencil in “vacation” days

Therefore my life goes on in the same busy way…

**

So here’s my new resolution for me

I’ll give myself permission to be tardy

Leave tasks until later, rest when I feel the need

I don’t need to ask anyone else indeed!

Like a chasm in my heart that stays

Open- memories are lodged there, slow to decay

The ache trapped inside, forever imprisoned

Worse than anything I had envisioned

Something snapped broken, that does not mend

Making it harder at times to pretend

That I am all right, that I have moved on..

When an appendage of mine has permanently gone

Regret fills the void, I should’ve made more

Of the moments I had with them before

I can’t go back in time, so I live every day

In grief- a piece of my heart is torn away..

The voice of doubt speaks again, am I enough

Do I really know all this stuff

Did I just get lucky, or is it true

That I’m actually competent enough to do

Everything that I’m perceived as capable of doing

Why are there in my mind doubts brewing

About my capability- is it because I carry the burden

Of reasonable or unreasonable expectation

Is it a function simply of my youth (and lack of experience)

Sometimes these feelings of inadequacy are intense..

*

I have been working to reduce

This imposter syndrome which tends to produce

Doubts in my mind about my abilities

When a doubt arises I just seize

That feeling and toss it away

Thus keeping the imposter syndrome at bay

Quite honestly, it is a work in progress

But at least I’m able to enjoy my success

Without feeling like a fraud

At least my achievements I can applaud

I know it hurts when you put in effort supreme

And yet you are unable to realize your dream

The disappointment you feel when you work hard and yet

No reward or acknowledgment of your trouble you get

You know my child, your parents have gone through this too

And while I wish things could be better for you

It is a fact of life we all have to learn some day

Success is fickle, not to be counted on anyway…

*

Let me tell you what our scriptures have taught

Perform your duty with diligence, but expect not

The fruits of your labor, because attachment to outcome

Ultimately brings lasting happiness seldom..

*

Life is not a linear equation

In fact it is not an equation at all

Therefore if winning becomes a fixation

My dear child, you’re likely to fall…

Having spent years abroad, it was time for my return

With my elderly mother, I had visualized a tearful reunion

I entered my childhood home, my excitement barely contained

How was I to know that my euphoria would soon wane…

My mother shuffled to the door to greet me

She looked up at me quite expressionlessly

Smiled and politely asked me, “Who are you?”

She appeared mildly curious as if meeting someone new

Her helper told me most days she did not know her name

Her memory was lost, advanced dementia was to blame…

**

The enormity of this revelation hit me suddenly

I, my mother’s flesh and blood, was a stranger apparently

She had memory issues, this much I had heard

Of course she was growing old, to me it had not occurred

That her dementia could be so profound

That when I met her, she would mentally not be around

Someone seemed to have stabbed my heart

Whether it was guilt or sorrow, I could not tell them apart…

**

For her age she was in fair physical condition

Which is why the decline in her cognition

Felt so poignant- the body should be outlived by the soul

Not the other way round, what makes people whole

Is their mental faculty, their cognition

Which my mother had lost beyond recognition

I would talk to her, we would have conversations brief

But we could not reminisce about old days- that gave me grief

Sometimes I would see, or imagine maybe

A tiny flicker of recognition in her eyes, filling me with glee

For a moment I would audaciously hope for recovery

I would delude myself into thinking she had found her memory…

**

My mother- a shadow of her former self she is now

Her loss of memory does not allow

Her to be the person she used to be

Dementia has robbed her of her identity

What would I not give today

For her, just once, to say

That I am her child- show me that she knows

That I am back, I am close…