Why verse?

cave

I write in verse, and often question

Myself on this literary format selection

Why is it that I find myself unwilling

To write in prose, why is poetry more thrilling?

 

Maybe the answer to this question is embedded

In my Indian heritage- intricate  concepts were threaded

In short verses (shlokas) in ancient Indian texts

Listening to the Gita probably had lasting effects..

 

Maybe I was influenced in some way

By the use of  verse in Shakespeare’s plays

His blank verses and rhyming couplets

Brought his plays alive on minimalist stage sets

The imagery in his verses left an impression

Quite lasting, I say in full confession

 

In writing, the value of brevity

Has often been impressed upon me

Important as it is in scientific discourse

What initially appeared to have been forced

Upon me now comes naturally to me-

Poetry compared to prose begs more brevity

Language must be more effectively deployed

In writing poetry- thus this is the medium I enjoy

 

Here is the final thought- let me confess

This is not original, nevertheless

 

Let me tell you how poetry and prose affect the mind-

The relationship between  reader and writer is intertwined

In a novel- it is a dialogue between the two

While a poem is for self-expression, what it tends to do

Is help the poet process his conflicts internal

Oblivious of the effect on the world external

Since I was looking to resolve my internal conflicts

Poetry happened to be the medium I picked…

 

Here I end my verse hoping I shall be

Writing verses into eternity..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sedentary dreamer

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Nothing in the world arouses the envy 

Of a competitive soul like me

Than seeing people running along the way

While I drive to and from work every day

I ogle at their calves, beautifully sinewed

And the feeling of discontent is renewed

Within me- at my apparent inability

To run- or exercise, despite lack of debility

Oh yes, I have tried many times in the past

But alas, my tenacity does not seem to last

This is unlike me in sedentary ventures

There each challenge I treat like a new adventure

And bring each project to completion

Yet my goals in exercise never reach fruition..

My conscience continues to nag at me

I know prolonged sitting is not heart-healthy

The grim prospect of future disease of the heart

Scares me enough at times to give a jumpstart

To my exercise routine, but in a few days

Sore joints and muscles send me back to my old ways

Reading a book curled up in bed is to me

Infinitely more pleasurable an activity

I daydream that one day I shall acquire

The toned look that in runners I admire….

 

Maybe after writing this verse I shall be 

Inspired tomorrow to hit the gym early!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where do they pray?

They prayed in churches

They prayed in mosques

They prayed in temples

They prayed in synagogues

 

They identified their God

They took their pick

They  carved separate faiths

To which they would stick

 

They segregated themselves

Condemned those different

Had fights in the name of religion

That God Himself could not prevent

 

As they continued to fight

Over things largely inconsequential

Fate threw them a challenge

Threatening their survival

 

Torrential floods ravaged their town

Damaging life and property 

Those alive feared they would go down

So they prayed to their God fervently

 

The floods washed away differences

Of religion, temporarily at least

The storm had no preferences

In devastation it was a secular beast

 

Stripped down to necessities bare

What emerged was pure humanity

People helped each other everywhere

Rebuilding after the calamity

 

The flood waters receded, the town

Was rebuilt after months several

Once all the inhabitants settled down

They went back to their old squabbles

 

Churches, mosques, temples, synangogues

All were restored to their former glory

Different groups found their own demagogues

To give a religious angle to this story

 

Similar scenarios have played out

Over centuries, again and again

Disasters unite human beings devout

But united they never seem to remain..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Travel bans

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My six year old and I sat one afternoon

Reading about deserts and sand dunes

My son, a keen learner of geography

Expressed interest in traveling with me

To some countries where sand dunes could be found

To which I replied we could travel all around

The world, and go to any country we fancied-

Seeing deserts and dunes and much more indeed

 

My son shook his head, quite gravely for a six year old

“No we cannot go to some countries,” he told

Me- and then proceeded to enumerate all nations

That are not completely open to visitation

By citizens of our country, due to ongoing strife

Or diplomatic skirmishes, or danger to life-

 

That set me thinking, this is an unfortunate reality we face

That despite the world shrinking into a smaller place

Barriers exist to prevent free movement of men

Largely due to differences among our brethren

Based on differences minor in the grand scheme

Of humanity- in an era when we have realized our dream

Of traveling to the moon, the least we can do

Is to have fewer restrictions on travel across boundaries too

As a traveler full of wanderlust, I keep hoping there are no

Borders remaining in the near future, and so

All of us can enjoy the sights the world has to offer

At the hands of arbitrary rules, travelers should not suffer…

 

Scars

“Without my wounds, who was I? my scars were my face, my past was my life.”

-Janet Fitch

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They  said time heals
Gradually you cease to feel
Negative emotions with the same intensity
The scars fade, your exterior again looks pretty…

She latched on to these words when despair
Clouded her life- everything seemed unfair
She waited for time to work its magic, patiently
Until her scars she herself could not see
They never disappeared, only she forgot
What she looked like before the scars she got

The wheels of life kept turning, until one day
Someone from her past crossed her way
Now her scars were exposed, the contrast was clear
Between her then and now, she was filled with fear
That the wounds that like a volcano dormant
Would erupt to the surface, with boiling resentment

So it happened, waves of anger ravaged her
Anger and pain together made her suffer
While weathering this tempest she realized
The demons of her past she had not exorcised
This time around she let the fires burn
Until nothing but ashes were left, then she turned
Back to find the ghosts of her past gone
She had found salvation, there was nothing else to mourn.

 

 

Song du jour

436637-bollywood.jpgI have grown up listening to

Songs from Bollywood films, perhaps you

Are not acquainted with the range of emotions expressed

In a smorgasbord of melodies, here I do confess

That each time I feel any emotion intense

There is a song appropriate for that experience

Often as I feel the emotion, I tell you

In my head a song is playing repeatedly too..

 

From romantic love, longing and betrayal

To life’s lessons, patriotism and farewells

From maternal, paternal, sibling affection

To bonds of friendship and the heartache of rejection

From boisterous proclamations of superiority

To claiming reckless disregard of seniority

From the existential angst of life as a youngster

To the pangs of old age- you never have to wonder

If there is a song that describes your situation

You will find one without much aggravation

 

Now I sing (either loudly or in my head)

When I am happy, but when I am sad, instead

Of dwelling on my emotions, I start humming

A tune in my head, the lyrics start coming

To my mind soon after I indulge in this exercise

Quite often my mood is lifted, much to my surprise!

 

Bollywood numbers continue to be belted out

At a furious pace, day in and day out

Not every song can touch every soul

But each song has its niche, its role

In the fabric of Indian lives, I am sure

That’s why film lovers keep asking for more

Thus the age-old tradition of films interspersed

With songs does not end- we are well versed

In smooth stories being interrupted all at once

By characters breaking  abruptly into song and dance 

We have grown to love this distraction 

A film without songs gives us no satisfaction..

 

Of course as I pen this verse my mind is occupied

By more than one song-as I have described!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The ghats of Varanasi

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Swathed in  deep orange light, just before dawn

On the ghats of Varanasi she sat alone

Played her sitar in precious solitude

While the rest of the world she could still exclude

A plaintive melody reflective of her mental state

A mournful plea to the injustice of her fate

At these hallowed ghats she had cremated

Her husband not long ago, now she waited

For life to provide her a direction, otherwise

She would wait here, where her cries

Could be drowned in the cacophony of sounds

She felt nothing but despair all around

Her baby lay sleeping in a bundle beside her

Oblivious to the music, to the flow of the river..

 

Soon the sun promised to come up and the place

Filled up with people occupying any available space

She continued to play her sitar, this time with a goal

Of attracting attention of any generous soul

Who would drop some coins impressed by her recital

This was all her shell-shocked mind could do for survival..

 

Day after day she continued, she made just enough

To keep herself and the baby fed, but the sailing was rough

Until one day as she sat playing, seemingly immersed

Completely in music, oblivious of the universe

When a passer-by stopped to listen in keen attention

She stopped, and looked up with deep apprehension

An elderly man looked at her with eyes kind

Her rendition of Raag Bhairavi had blown his mind

He offered her a position to teach classical music

To young children- at first she was afraid she was being tricked

But something in his voice told her he was genuine

Besides, she had nothing to lose, she could only win

Shaken from her torpor, she accepted the offer

It turned out to be the best thing that happened to her-

In teaching young kids how to play the instrument

She overcame her grief,  became truly self-sufficient

As she raised her child, she taught him music too

In doing all of this, her resilience shone through.

 

Today she sits in the front row of the audience

It’s her son’s first solo performance

As she waits for him to begin in nervous anticipation

Her thoughts return to the day of her emancipation

Her eyes fill up with tears of gratitude

The ghats have magical powers-it’s her certitude..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Always.. Indian

independence dayOn the occasion of Indian Independence Day

An expatriate like me should have nothing to say

Yet the umbilical cord binding me to the land of my birth

Is hard to cut off- I can state that whatever I am worth

Today is because I was raised an Indian

My sense of identity remains but one-

In a world that stands divided today

I am fortunate that India showed me the way

Of secularism, religious tolerance and more

So that prejudice and bigotry I find easier to ignore

With five thousand years of culture behind me

I am privileged to carry an unparalleled legacy

The strength of the family unit has my back

Its cohesiveness would never let me lose track

Growing up in a land where resources were few

With relatively little I have learnt to make do..

 

At the same time Indian idiosyncrasies

Have obviously brushed off on me

My palate is woefully limited, I’m aware

To try new adventures, I do not dare

There are many other things that stereotype 

Me as an Indian, but my actions live up to the hype

 

As I contemplate today my identity

Being Indian I feel is part of my destiny

Despite the fact that I have embraced

Another country as my own, I am still faced

With the question of being comfortable 

In my skin, of being capable

Of navigating two different cultures with equal elan

I think my efforts are good, but in this lifespan

A true blue Indian at heart I shall remain

It is the part of me that keeps me sane!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mothering pains

cat-1116_078_0I have a confession to make here

There is nothing nowadays that I fear

More than meeting other mothers on weekends

For children’s activities- I’d rather run mundane errands

 

For each time mothers meet, the topics of conversation

Revolve around the extent of their enthusiastic participation

In their children’s lives- soccer practice, dance recitals

Advanced math classes, playdates- these are the staples

Of life as a mother- to which I sadly do not conform

I know driving children everywhere is the norm, 

That I cannot keep up with because I need 

The weekend to recharge my batteries indeed

While spending some quality time with my son-

So we read together or do art projects for fun

I am perfectly happy doing this, and so is he

(I think), but then I get worried each time I see

Or hear other mothers talking about 

The tight schedules of their children; doubt

Starts clouding my mind- what if my son

Falls behind his peers- no, he has to run

The same race that everyone seems to

Be running, surely they have a better clue

As to how dabbling in ten different activities

Can secure a seat in an Ivy League with ease..

 

When I get carried away by these thoughts, I want to

Enrol him in every single activity available too

Then I stop myself so that I can  re-evaluate

My priorities for my child, consider what I have on my plate

It is true that I want my child to develop skills multi-faceted

But not the same skills as others- I want him to be unique instead

Maybe by being at home and doing projects with me

He is learning more by exercising his creativity

Then I calm down and decide not to be a part

Of mom discussions next time- that would be a good start!

(Image: www.theriaults.com)

 

 

 

 

 

Where do my loyalties lie

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In a world that is increasingly
Divided, with pervasive hostility
And paranoia everywhere-
I struggle to see what is right, what is fair
In this divided world I cannot decipher
Where to place my loyalties, with whom to concur
Every group I belong to has views that are right
And other views that I want to fight
With any one group I cannot align
Myself- there is a need for me to find
A happy medium- the most moderate view
Of the world, the outlook that rings true

I try to eliminate prejudice from my mind
Yet in a polarized world I find
It is difficult to avoid biases making their way
Into my subconscious, looking for a place to stay
Inadvertently, often thoughts cross my mind
Reflecting subtle biases of various kinds
I can see them mirrored in the world around me
Fueling my warped views, unfortunately
I chide myself each time my bias I realize
And remind myself next time I would be wise
In a world divided I have to work relentlessly
To owe my allegiance to nothing but humanity.

 

Will toot my horn

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I cannot help but notice how these days

Self-promotion has become easier in many ways

So the talents that we had were meant to be showcased

Before close friends and family, often based

On the context and occasion, employed strategically

To garner praise, or arouse envy specifically-

Now there is a smattering of our “talents” for all to see

On social media, to boost our self-esteems for free..

Most of us are guilty at some point or another

Of checking our profiles after posting with fervor

To see how many likes and comments we receive

We feel validated, we are admired we believe…

 

I suspect most of us would never be able to

Boast of our achievements the way we do

Out loud in front of an audience

But facebook gives us the confidence

To publicize, promote, self-aggrandize

While posting we do not even realize

That fifteen years ago we would not have dreamt

That showing off would become such a big trend..

 

Pardon me if the tone of this verse is too sanctimonious

Let me check the number of likes on my post ostentatious! 

 

 

 

 

 

Woman at Work

“We cannot all succeed when half of us are held back.”

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The week starts off with a list robust

Of things to do- she gets cracking, but first

An adequate dose of caffeine she needs

To get her galvanized into action indeed

The list is long, but in her view

It is exciting to have more things to do

It brings out her efficient, no-nonsense way

She means business, her manner conveys

Working without breaks, targets she exceeds

By making secondary her personal needs

In a brutally competitive, male-driven sphere

She has chalked out her strategy, her goals are clear

She arrives early to work, late she leaves

To be on equal footing with the men, she believes

Her industrious and dedication would certainly

Lead her to the top echelons eventually

 

 

Whether she was naive to think so

I cannot say, I do not know

But in this world with its warped ways

Where discrimination occurs in myriad ways

Her workaholic tendencies were misconstrued

And given a sexual context, this was so not true!

Credit for her productivity was claimed

By someone more powerful, with a “Mr.” to his name

As you can guess, the opposite gender acted in collusion

To sabotage her chance of landing the coveted promotion

 

She was angry, hurt, disappointed

She blamed herself until someone pointed

To her that it had nothing to do 

With anything except her gender- sad but true

 

Unfortunately this story is not unique

Women are subject to unfair critique

In their workplace, especially if they are 

Good at what they do, they don’t  get far

 

 

She is learning to fight her battles, learning to say “no”

I hope one day she shall be the CEO!