Passion…unbridled

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)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was a time when I would try to rationalize

Every aspect of my behavior, I would apologize

For every perceived infraction, every breach

Of  “lady-like” behavior, I would try to reach

The exalted pedestal of morality set for me

And berate myself when I failed miserably..

*

Somewhere along the line, a habit it became

To say sorry even when there was no blame

Assigned to me- I would begin any question

With an apology for the interruption

I apologized each time I expressed an opinion

As if encroaching on someone’s dominion

At home, at the workplace- each time I apologized

I undermined myself- something I did not realize

Without being aware,  I was giving an impression

Of underconfidence in every interaction

No wonder I felt left behind despite my diligence

In the professional world there was no room for diffidence..

*

This is how I would have continued in oblivion

Had I not read an exquisite poetic expression

Woven around the word “unapologetic”-

Penned by a woman, it was a signal emphatic

To me to discard my apologetic ways

And an unapologetic stance embrace

*

So here I say, loud and clear

I’ll stand for myself without any fear

My beliefs, my attitude, my views

Are for me alone to choose

Different though they may be

I owe no one an apology

For being who I am, thinking the way I do

Unapologetic I stand finally, before you.

Who is the prettiest little girl in the world?

The one whose charm is unparalleled

She has a spring in her step and a twinkle in her eye

Asks questions constantly, she is never shy

The beauty of the world is for her to explore

Her wings are intact, high above she can soar

The tentacles of society have not reached her

Under her parents’ guidance, she sprints without fear

**

Who is the most beautiful young woman that you see?

She combines wit and charm effortlessly

Sitting with her beau on a dinner date

Her opinions on grave matters she states

Science, politics, sports- she can discuss with elan

She is more erudite than her man

**

Who is the most beautiful mother, you know?

She is there for her children through every high and low

Their strongest supporter, their biggest fan

She teaches her boy how to be a man

Respectful to women, while her daughter she leads

By example, making her independent for her needs

**

Who is the most beautiful grandmother, can you say?

Her uncanny perception on any day

Gives her a radiant confidence

No lies or excuses work in her presence

Worldly wisdom is packed in those wrinkles

Her wit charms all, her eyes still twinkle

**

She may be at any stage of life, but for me

The one thing that gives a woman her true beauty

Is the confidence that she exudes from every pore

She is a true gem, down to her core.

I. The aspiring writer

She toiled away at writing, without being inspired

To be a published author was what her heart desired

Words she could arrange, but she had no story to tell

Without a strong story, all ideas fell

Down the route of wishful thinking 

She despaired, she saw her dream sinking..

Her life was too mundane, too ordinary

To be an inspiration for a capital story

Nor was she blessed with fertile imagination-

All this hampered her creative expression

**

II. The Woman with a Past

She looked around furtively, out of habit old

Walked with her collar turned up, though it was not cold

Then reminded herself that there was little to fear

The danger of genocide no longer lurked near

Nor was she in fear of displacement now

She was as safe here as her skin color would allow

Having escaped death, lived life in countries seven

Each worse than the other, by the time she was ten

Being a refugee in the United States was being kissed by fate

She was grateful, she knew she was fortunate..

Yet who knew here, who could understand

The pain of being driven away from your land

Especially from Rwanda, a country obscure

That she was a Tutsi mattered here no more

She was a freshman in an Ivy League university

She was grateful to her sponsors for this opportunity

Yet there was that constant, queasy pain

Lodged in the deepest recesses of her brain

**

III. The Meeting

She switched up her routine looking for inspiration

Hoping people-watching at the park would fire her imagination

Instead,  every day a striking young woman intrigued her

She walked with small quick steps, as if in fear

She longed to make an acquaintance of her, and one day

The perfect opportunity for small talk came her way

She learnt more about this young woman, and wondered

Where she was from, what had happened to her..

One day she asked after much deliberation

About her past, and received a reply after initial hesitation

She had heard vaguely about Rwandan genocide

She realized the young woman had scars inside..

**

IV. The Collaboration

An unlikely friendship blossomed between the two

For the first time, she opened up about her trauma too

One day she confided that she longed to tell her story

To purge herself, to dig up from her memory all details gory

She had found herself unable to write about it all these years

Trying to do so only exacerbated her fears..

Our aspiring writer realized this might well be

The Eureka moment for her, if she could write this story

Soon it was decided our young refugee’s gruesome tale

Would be authored by the older woman, this time she wouldn’t fail

**

V. Success and Healing

The book was completed in two months, and became

Wildly popular, both of them acquired fame

The young woman spoke to varied audiences about this,

And in the process received a satisfying catharsis…

Our writer was approached promptly

To write yet another biography

Thus they found success, she found healing too

It was time to forgive and begin life anew..

Image: Eternal Flame at the Kigali Genocide Memorial Center

https://thisisafrica.me/rwandan-genocide-memorials-help/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am obsessed with creating warli art on holiday cards. Warli art form is from the state of Maharashtra, India, which depicts everyday life using stick figures. Here are some of the cards I created using inspiration from the internet.