Passion…unbridled

The local market had a bookseller, and I needed to buy a book or two

What I saw was a stack of books arranged on a cart, publications old and new

A bit difficult to browse through, for someone used to large bookstores

I must admit I had never bought books at such a place before

The books were all in English, the language of the literary-minded

(In a country with twenty-two official languages, myself I reminded)

*

I had read quite a few, and was trying to find

A thicker, unread treatise to occupy my mind

My enthusiasm the bookseller did recognize

He began suggesting options, and to my surprise

He knew what the books were about, he could give me

An elevator pitch for each book he held out, an abbreviated summary

When I picked “Great Works of Franz Kafka”, quite enthusiastically

He listed the titles of all the stories in the book for me

He knew what Kafka had written, he knew something about the content

I was genuinely impressed by his effort and the extent

To which he had tried to learn about the goods (books) he was trying to sell

It could not have been easy for someone who did not know English well..

*

Despite the fact that someone like him probably struggles to make ends meet

He had learnt the art of salesmanship, to sell his cartload of books on the street

I smiled to myself as I walked home with Kafka’s works in hand

This was salesmanship at its finest, in my motherland..

The world right now is with uncertainty fraught

In these volatile times, I need a grounding thought

To calm my anxious mind, as if on cue

A gorgeous sunrise comes into my view

I am reminded that in an uncertain world I can rely

On the sun rising and setting every day in the sky

*

When human unpredictability has a destabilizing influence

Turning to nature has a grounding effect immense

It is a reminder to me to detach myself from the news cycle endless

And go outdoors to observe a natural process

When world events lead to anxiety and despair

I must remember to breathe in some fresh air

Allow myself to be awed by sunset and sunrise

See the world around me with hope in my eyes

Increasingly when I create a travel itinerary

I’ve come to view it as a guideline and not necessarily

A plan to be executed barring an extenuating circumstance

These days it almost seems a matter of chance

Whether my trip proceeds according to my plan detailed-

Weather, conflict, war can work individually or in collusion to derail

Elaborate travel plans made months in advance

Each time I plan a trip, I take a chance

On being disappointed, on not being able to go at all

The unpredictability is worse now than I previously recall

*

As I pen these lines, I thank my stars that the right travel itinerary I chose

I am on my way back from a trip, while some airspaces have closed

I could have been stranded had I chosen differently

Who knows if my sixth sense had influenced me!

When good penmanship was considered a desirable skill

I learnt to write in cursive, I would fill

My notebooks with letters looping together and slanting to the right

My pen flowing on the paper in strokes fluid and light

But when it was time for my son to learn writing I realized

That cursive writing was considered a relic of the past, I was surprised

To learn that it was not being taught any more

My son has only learnt to write in disjointed letters, therefore

*

The ship has already sailed where cursive writing for my son is concerned

But it was heartening to read that in some states, children are now required to learn

How to write in cursive- educators have realized its value

It encourages creativity and enhances written expression too

*

Unfortunately I am typing out this verse but I wish I could

Write the same in cursive letters, as in my childhood I would

After spending a few decades on this planet, most of us should realize

That if something seems too good to be true, one should not be surprised

When it does not turn out to be as good as it initially appeared

Despite this being proven true repeatedly, I find it weird

That people still fall for the wonder-drug, superfood or miracle cure

It is amazing how the public can be lured

Into buying a product that can their lives transform

The frenzy envelops even those well-informed

*

The internet is bursting with stories of unprecedented success

All experts and social media influencers seem obsessed

With this newly discovered elixir, extolling its seeming endless virtues

Consumers feel compelled to buy the product even when it sounds too good to be true

There is also the fear of missing out phenomenon at play

So even the skeptics are willing to try it anyway..

*

Experiences vary, as they are expected to do

But the miracle cure rarely ends up being true

To its hype, most people find results that are at best

In their effectiveness no more than modest

Eventually the hype dies down and sales decline

The cycle repeats when a new product is designed

My mind like my internet browser appears to be

Open on too many tabs simultaneously

Running in multiple directions without completing a single thought

It is not a surprise that I feel overwhelmed a lot

On my device, one by one each tab I close

But in my mind, one tab into another flows

As one thought leads to another and back to the one before

Until it is impossible to keep score

Of all the thoughts running through my head

I end up shutting down my mind instead..

*

After closing all the open tabs in my mind

Finally much-needed focus I can find

To the task at hand I direct my attention

To keep just one tab open is my intention

It hurts me to admit this bitter truth that I try to suppress

When I return to my motherland, I no longer experience pure happiness

A peculiar sense of disorientation I feel on my return

Everything has changed, and I need to learn

A new set of norms, adjust my expectations

To the reality, not live in my frozen imagination

*

I left nearly two decades ago, and have since embraced

A new citizenship, a new identity, in a different place

But the nostalgic version of home stuck in my mind

No longer exists, each time I return I find

Something else has shifted, and I cannot immediately

Figure out what has changed and what it means for me

*

When I travel elsewhere in the world, I am prepared to be

A tourist, unacquainted with the ways of a new country

When I return home, that is not the feeling I expect

But these days I feel like an outsider in this respect

A bewildering mixture of nostalgia and alienation

Engulfs me, exacerbating my disorientation

*

I uprooted myself, to chase dreams elsewhere

I belong to both places, and I belong nowhere..

I am not trying to be a contrarian, I want to say

I am not trying to hurt anyone’s feelings in any way

I am just being myself, trying to explain

The way I think, but I end up feeling discouraged again

I have been misunderstood by those around me

I don’t know what to do, I just think differently..

*

Being misunderstood by people around you

Feels painful and isolating, but what is also true

Is that you get the freedom to live by rules you’ve defined

When people don’t get you and you feel inclined

To explain yourself to them again and again

You have the ability to decrease your pain

By conducting yourself with authenticity

And from judgment by others, make yourself free

To think differently from others is a gift, not a curse

To follow the herd mentality would be worse…

*

In a world where most people do not understand you

People who get you do exist, though they are few

You should know that such folks are meant to be

In your life, to share your journey..

Sometimes when impatience threatens to overwhelm me

I challenge myself to write, to compose poetry

At first I am too preoccupied to concentrate

But as I try harder, ideas begin to germinate

In my brain, leading to a perceptible shift

In my emotions, my mind begins to drift

From feeling rushed to moving at a slower pace

The virtues of patience I begin to embrace

*

To craft a poem, I must make use of all my faculties

Observe keenly, feel deeply, jog old memories

In the midst of chaos, writing a poem serves

As a grounding exercise that soothes my nerves

*

In writing a coherent verse, I do not always succeed

Sometimes I leave unfinished lines, sometimes I leave the sheet blank indeed

A poem cannot be written under duress

Therefore my efforts do not always meet with success

*

I was feeling impatient today when I decided to write

And for once, writer’s block I had no need to fight

There was snow in my yard for three whole days

There were solid sheets of ice on roadways

A polar vortex on the warm southern states descended

And our mild winter seemed to be northward extended..

*

There was a hurricane that caused unprecedented destruction

Not built to withstand heavy winds was our construction

Trees fell in droves, damaging property everywhere

The city was plunged into darkness and despair

*

Across my floorboards new cracks have appeared

From repeated contraction and expansion- I’ve now learnt to fear

The vicissitudes of weather patterns, their unpredictability

And in every corner of the world, our growing vulnerability..

*

Droughts and floods, record-breaking heat, unexpected snow

Unpredictable weather patterns that curveballs throw

Extreme weather events are not just headlines from places far away

They are in our backyards now, can strike anywhere, any day

I go through life composing sentences in my mind

Sometimes they run into paragraphs, at others times I find

They stay unfinished, hanging in mid-air

Like unrealized dreams, stuck in despair

Sometimes they morph into questions profound

The answers to which I have not found

Sometimes they appear out of nowhere with such clarity

That I want to write them down, or commit them to memory..

*

I go through life like a narrator in a play

I narrate parts of my life in my head every day

Because of this I believe, quite audaciously

That a writer’s soul resides within me..

For years the story I told myself and everyone else was the same

I was left-brained, did not have a creative side, I would blame

My lack of creative effort on the way I was wired

To craft an intellectually challenging career was the main thing I desired

Any creative endeavor that I dabbled in was supposed to be

An inconsequential pastime, a low-key hobby

*

I am grateful to have a career that challenges me in the way I had visualized

But as I grow older, I have come to realize

That I need to activate my dormant “right” brain

I cannot live my life in a purely analytical domain

*

So I’ve been trying to engage my creative side

By writing and painting- other artistic outlets too I have tried

The challenges feel greater than those at work, I confess

I am still outside my comfort zone in trying to express

Myself in a creative manner, I have a long way to go

Before confidence in my artistic expression I can show

*

Like everything else in life, our brains do not function in a binary way

I can indulge in both the left and right sides of my brain any day