Passion…unbridled

Caught in the circle of life inexorably

Living a mechanical life, almost deplorably

With work, food and sleep alone on my mind

No scintilla of creativity I could find

Within myself, that well had already dried

Could not be channeled even if I tried..

**

Strolling aimlessly in the department store,

Trying to buy something interesting, something more

Than the objects on my list, myself I found

In the aisle for art supplies; all around

Me were brushes and paints, crayons and markers

What caught my attention were watercolors-

Twelve inexpensive cakes in basic hues

I grabbed them on impulse, didn’t have much to lose..

Also bought some brushes, the most basic set

Uncertain if any use they were going to get..

**

These art supplies somehow catalysts became

My dormant creativity was no longer the same

Boldly I dipped my brush and began to paint

Lacking confidence, my initial brushstrokes were faint

As I gathered courage, my strokes bolder became

Brighter hues emerged, more complex textures came

The thrill of creative effort spurred me on

The fear of a creative drought was all gone..

**

There were no masterpieces that I created

But at the end of each painting I felt elated

They were amateurish efforts, that was quite clear

It was not the result, but the process that I held dear

Immersing yourself in a creative endeavor can give rise

To unbridled happiness, this came to me as a surprise!

 

 

 

 

Zipping through my life I never realized

That I had lost myself, I was surprised

To discover that in running from one goal to next

I was meandering through mazes, perplexed

Where was the person that was supposed to be me?

Broken, scattered pieces of myself were all I could see

Floating in different directions, each pulled by

Different demands of the society, not knowing why

Unable to coalesce to give a form that was coherent

A form that could my life’s meaning represent….

I had lost myself inexorably, this was mere existence

Each fragment of me was separated by time and distance

The part of me left behind in school corridors

 

The part that I left behind on my country’s shores

The part that still lingers on the threshold

Of my childhood home, full of apologies untold..

I had been shattered into pieces infinitesimally small

I could try to put them together, or toss them all

 

Lost as I was completely, I had nothing to lose

I began to reinvent myself, became my own muse

In the midst of nowhere myself I had found

I would not lose myself this time around!

 

 

 

As children in our minds it’s drilled

Random impulses need to be stilled

Acting on impulse is irresponsible, unwise

Think before you act, if you want to rise

In a world that honors convention

Thinking before action avoids contention

Impulses are wild, untamed creatures

Destructive  could be their features

These base impulses you must suppress

Before they acquire the power to make you digress

From the safe path that is narrow and straight

Where every step is planned and deliberate

**

But if I ask you, can you deny

The thrill of doing something on the fly

Propelled by an impulse, throwing caution

Out of the window, to the winds of oblivion?

The impulse that thrusts you to take a chance

On someone, that leads to a lifelong romance

An artistic endeavor might have at its core

A creative impulse that made imagination soar

From the subconscious mind do impulses arise

Ignoring them constantly might not be wise

Act on your impulse, once in a while

You might be left with an unexpected smile!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Image source: http://quoteszilla.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/woman-empowered-quotes-26.jpg)

You think you’re the boss, you are mistaken

Brace yourself for the truth, you might be shaken

The one you have euphemistically labeled

“The weaker sex” is the one who has enabled

You to stand on your feet in your arrogant posture

Dare underestimate her, and though she is softer

On the outside, she is incredibly strong from within

Her most beautiful aspects lie under her skin

She is prone to crying, but weak she is not

Sensitive she is,  empathy for others she’s got

Your shrewdness in business is probably no match

For her intuition, which subtle undercurrents can catch

See her walk gracefully in stilettos, you would know

How she can hide her pain and never let it show

Her steely resolve can bring you down to your knees

For a determined woman holds in her hand all the keys

To unlock doors for herself in every direction she goes

She can get what she want with her grit, she knows

Get this, a woman is seen behind every successful man

But behind every successful woman is usually THAT woman!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For years I looked for a yardstick around

To measure my worth against, certain that once found

Steps I could take to bring myself higher

Up to the standards to which I did aspire

As a woman I was expected to be

Invested in my outer beauty

Growing up steeped in the collective conscious

Of a developing nation full of folks ambitious

I had to be appropriately, intellectually bent

To guarantee against competition my ascent

I had to choose a vocation that was respected

I had to excel at my work, that was expected

As an Indian woman I had to uphold tradition

Even if I was carried far by my ambition

I was supposed to lead a lifestyle cautiously comfortable

Never indulge in actions that could become regrettable

**

I thought I was measuring up quite all right

I groomed myself well, appeared cheerful and bright

Found my vocation in being a physician

Checked off the box of a suitable profession

Settled in the safe monotony of middle class living

I did not take risks, took decisions only after giving

To every proposed idea of action deliberate thought

I had a safety net, though exciting my life was not

Moved across continents but did not forget

My traditions, my culture, they held my respect

**

I was probably near perfect by every measure

That I could think of, yet I felt no pleasure-

I an not the way I look or the size I wear

Judging my worth by my profession is also unfair

The label of a perfect Indian woman does not define me

I might fit those molds but God did not design me

To fit into categories completely arbitrary

Meant to distract from the whole that is me

I don’t need labels to project my worth anyway

I exist, I’m alive, I can think, love and work today

And that is sufficient for me to say

I am worth it because I just am, today!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In this world where everyone tries to be perfect

One certain way to gather universal respect

Seems to be to spend long hours at work

Leave the office early, and even if you don’t shirk

Any responsibility, you would still be perceived

As irresponsible and lazy, since it’s widely believed

Staying late is tantamount to being industrious

It portrays the image of a career illustrious

Family comes second, work scores higher

Is the mantra if higher goals you aspire

The image of a consummate professional

Is that of a steady worker who stays unruffled

By any predicament, stress or upheaval

Faced by him in the realm personal

So most of us try to put up a front brave

Of valuable things, livelihood is the first thing to save..

Thus forced workaholics do we become

Work then steadily becomes burdensome.

**

We might invest ourselves in our vocation

But our value at work has a date of expiration

So all walls crumble when work is no longer present

And neglected loved ones have made themselves absent

All those hours spent toiling lose their importance

With the sad realization that there is nothing left of substance..

**

So I urge you to take stock at present

If towards workaholism you might be bent

Remember your family and friends while they are

Still close to you, don’t let them go far!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We have been taught from childhood days

That the early bird catches the worm always

So faced with an assignment we try to

Get cracking on it right away, without ado

We try to finish it and think no further

Once the task is completed we don’t have to bother

Success comes to those who do not procrastinate

I beg to differ, let me my point of view state

I think there is merit in procrastinating

Novel ideas emerge when you spend some time waiting

Instead of rushing to complete an assignment

Giving you time to add to your project refinement

You chew on an idea even though you might not

Have anything concrete except your thoughts

When the deadline approaches and you are

Spurred into action, those thoughts would carry you far

The most inspiring speeches delivered by great men

Included ideas added at the very last moment..

Of course completion is essential, otherwise

Procrastination would be highly unwise

To sum up, all it is that I am trying to suggest-

At times procrastination might bring out the best!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My mind often wanders restlessly

Tangled thoughts stretch endlessly

While I find it difficult to define

What actually rankles this soul of mine-

Whatever I do never seems enough

I feel impoverished in the midst of stuff

I long to journey into lands distant

Challenge everything to which society is resistant

Create something beautiful and exquisite

Carve an inner shrine that I would like to visit-

Don’t know if fulfilment of these desires

Would be sufficient to douse out the fires

That burn within me, fueled by restlessness

Accounting for my omnipresent sleeplessness

**

I doubted the thirst of my soul would be quenched

So towards meditation my interests I bent

I learnt to focus on the moment present

Out of the window all restlessness went

 

I felt calmer from within instantly

As I delved deeper into meditation hesitantly..

**

Meditation helped still the chatter in my mind

Grateful I am that this treasure I did find

Clamoring for more in my life, I had felt restless

Calm and balanced, now I was satisfied with less..