Passion…unbridled

I simply meant to compliment my friend

To examine my biases I did not intend..

You look fabulous, thus started my comment

And that could have been the extent

Of my sentence- but further adjectives I did add

You’ve lost weight, you look younger- now isn’t it sad

That the biases I hold and that are prevalent

Can be easily disguised as compliments..

*

In a world where thinness and youth are placed

At the pinnacle of achievement, women face

Judgment on their perceived age and size

Being thin and looking young are epitomized

As the ideals to strive for, and those who have reached

Those ideals must be applauded indeed…

By extending my compliment to include youth and size

I revealed my implicit biases, I now realize

What’s more, I judge myself through the same lens

When I gain weight or look older, I feel dissatisfaction intense

When I get a compliment similar to mine

I confess I feel I am on cloud nine..

*

Of course genuine compliments should be given liberally

But it’s time to make them bias and judgment free

Swelter and sweat

In the heat, dry or wet

Retreat indoors

Crank the AC some more..

Forest fires and smoke

The sky in haze cloaked

Apocalyptic floods elsewhere

Torrential rains, water everywhere

Relentlessly the glaciers shrink

Bridges and levees sink

Temperatures to new highs soar

Breaking records, then some more

Some shake their heads, some cry

That climate change is real, some deny

None of us knows exactly what to do

A pandemic we’ve just been through

Negative news we want to ignore

As the world heats up some more…

*

The promise that summer used to bring

Is fading away, let it not be something

That we simply learn to endure

Humankind has a responsibility to ensure

That our source of sustenance does not transform

Into a calamitous destructive form..

So many moments of my day are spent

In repetitive tasks, relying to a great extent

On conditioned reflexes, they do not need

To engage my brain power indeed

As I go about these chores I find

Random thoughts float in and out of my mind

Mostly they are rooted in the stressors I face

Taking my mind to an unpleasant space

Thus I go through mundane tasks of the day

Physically in one place, mentally far away..

I am learning this is not the best way to live

My attention to every moment I should give

*

In the beginning, honestly, it seems somewhat absurd

In all these years it has not occurred

To me to appreciate the million moments

Of daily life, so when I try to implement

Mindfulness in tasks mundane, silly I feel

Nothing extraordinary this exercise seems to reveal

But as I get better at pushing intrusive thoughts away

I start enjoying the simple tasks in my day

When I focus on what is in front of me

Stressful thoughts are unable to gain entry

Into the finite recesses of my brain

Leaving me calmer, and hopefully more sane…

*

My fast brain had been urging me

To shortcut my way through life evidently

Let my slow brain take over, and let me

Build a life of intentionality…

I would feel compelled to have the last word

Back in the day you would have heard

Me trying to counter every point someone made

With one of my own, not much attention I paid

To understand the other person’s point of view

I had to chime in with my opinion too

An unfortunate habit of mine it became

I have no one but myself to blame

*

As with other mistakes we make unwittingly

I realized my folly when someone did the same to me

This person would counter me on every issue

Soon I realized to my chagrin that I did this too..

*

Once I understood how annoying this could be

I consciously tried to bring about change within me

I tried to listen patiently to what people had to say

And refrain from counter-arguments just to get my way

I realized that I had not really been trying to comprehend

People’s views- to impose my opinions on them was my intent

When I really took the time to listen, I did find

To give my opinion freely, I was rarely inclined

*

It is easier to chime in to have the last word

It is harder to let someone else be heard

I am often tempted to offer my point of view

But ignoring that impulse is what I mostly do

By being as critical as you are

Are you indicating that grapes are sour?

*

Often, when I open my mouth to criticize

Divine intervention has made me realize

That this is a manifestation indeed

Of my insecurities, my pressing need

To justify what I lack and what I long to possess

The deficiency exacerbated by someone else’s success

And I become hypercritical as a way

Of keeping my intense disappointment at bay

It is a defense mechanism of the ugliest sort

Unfortunately to such lowly behavior I tend to resort…

*

Someone has been watching out for me

Therefore the folly of my ways I can see

When I am being critical, I take a step back

And introspect honestly about what I lack

I consciously try to stop then and there

My grapes are sour, I am acutely aware..

Vanity is a flaw so deeply ingrained

It is hard to not be vain

And attempt to look my best

Placing different poses to test

While getting my pictures snapped

I find myself completely wrapped

In selfish pursuit of looking great

So I can my vanity satiate..

*

Wherever I look, beautiful people I see

Slender, fit, dressed impeccably

I feel compelled to elevate

My sartorial sense to imitate

That seemingly impossible perfection

I spend hours gazing at my reflection

In the mirror to see if I can refine

My sense of style, and better define

The features of myself that I like best

And hide the ones that I detest

*

As I write these words, embarrassed I feel

What a vain side of me they reveal

In comparing with others my appearance

I invite in my life dissatisfaction intense

I am comparing the real life me

To someone’s reel life invariably

It seems ridiculous on assessment objective

But that is not how these days we live…

*

Let me see beautiful people and freely admire

Their sense of style, let me get inspired

To improve myself, but let me steer myself away

From comparing myself to anyone in any way

(To all those who long to write their stories- write, for catharsis, write, to heal from trauma)

Some day I shall feel compelled

To write, to narrate the story I long to tell

To share with the world that pivotal event

That changed my life to a massive extent

A change binary, that bisected time for me

Into a before and an after, irrevocably

Though it was a seismic life shift, profound

It was imperceptible to everyone around

I have adapted silently, swept my secret

Under an ordinary life’s unexceptional carpet

*

This life-altering event, I cannot deny

Shall influence how I live until I die

Unseen by anyone else, it has shaped me

If not for this, I would have turned out differently

I carry the story of my struggle inside

The trials and triumphs I view with pride

Sometimes I feel the burden is too much to bear alone

And I want to share my story, make it known

*

Some day I’ll pen my story and find

The ultimate catharsis for my soul and mind

A part of me struggles to reconcile, still,

With what happened, writing my story might fill

That gap and make me fully embrace

The life-alteration I’ve had to face

Listless, restless, aimless

Thus wanders my mind

Unfocused, unable to process

Ready to break free from the grind..

*

Be mindful, chides my inner critic

See, listen, focus, pay attention

My mind tries (half-heartedly) every trick

To be present is not its intention

*

Stop wasting time, it’s precious indeed

Admonishes my inner voice

My mind fails to increase its speed

Dismissing the admonishment as mere noise

*

I am being stifled, cries out my mind

I need a recharge, a change of pace

I go for a walk outside, and find

My mind has settled in a better place

*

There intersected my body and mind

My mind was stimulated by movement indeed

Each time I am stuck, myself I remind

That physical activity is what I need..

I slept fewer hours, it came at a cost

I thought I was being productive, but I lost

Precious hours fighting fatigue the next day

Regretting the misguided zeal that made me stay

Up past my bedtime the night before

Impaired concentration and muscles sore

Irritability and impatience at the world

Lack of sleep had a monster unfurled

The pleasure of accomplishing a project late

Morphed in to indifference in my sleep-deprived state

My day seemed wasted, I dragged my feet

To get through the day seemed like a big feat

Until I hit my bed and fell asleep

I kept falling into an abyss dismally deep

Filled with negativity, anger and despair

That only a good night’s sleep could repair

I am not doubting whether I am good enough

It’s just that my inner self-critic is loud today

I have to navigate through waters rough

Through the negativity I have to forge my way

That self-critic is being especially annoying

Trying to get my attention in any manner it can

But I shall prevent it’s screeching voice from destroying

My confidence- I have to execute my plan

I turn a deaf ear deliberately to that voice

I pretend its proclamations are white noise

To not heed my inner critic is now my choice

Whether I’m good enough or not, I go ahead with equipoise

How does she learn to be

The powerful woman that she

Aspires to be, to make her presence known

To not have her opinions blown

Away by those to whom it comes naturally

How to take up extra room comfortably…

She has imbibed some ideas throughout childhood

She has learnt repeatedly that she should

Not take up space, that her presence

Should not cause any inconvenience

To anyone else, therefore she should not

Unreservedly share her opinions or thoughts

If she does wish to do so, they must be

Positive, encouraging, complimentary..

She must be nurturing and gentle

She should never appear critical..

*

With the kind of narrative she has drilled in her mind

It is no wonder she finds herself left behind

In the professional sphere where she must learn

To be assertive, take up space, share her opinion

She can compliment people but being critical when there is a need

Does not come naturally to her indeed

The professional world is brutal, kind it would not be

To her, if she does not follow their rule book apparently

*

She has resolved to change the narrative

For the next generation, she wants to give

Young girls the message that they must not refrain

From voicing their opinions, taking up space without having to explain

Their actions to anyone who has a fixed mindset

They don’t have to meet anyone’s idea of perfect..

*

Good girls don’t make history, bold girls do

Being sensibly bold should be the quality girls aspire to

Sometimes the picture is instagram-perfect

But most of the time, I can spot a defect

In the picture which renders it less than

The model of perfection, I known I can

Edit the photograph it and use filters until

The picture has accommodated to my will

Sometimes I do not a satisfactory effect

Then I retake the picture until perfect

I try various angles, contort my body in a way

That the best composition comes into play

Arguably photographers do that for a living

But the latest ways of taking photographs are so forgiving

That getting a perfect shot is within anyone’s reach

Be it a dramatic selfie or sunset on a beach..

*

Capturing the perfect photograph comes at a cost

In giving attention to a picture, attention to the moment is lost

True, a picture can be stored and viewed a thousand times over

But the pleasure of being in the moment is lost forever..

*

Between preserving the memory and enjoying the moment

The struggle in my mind is constant

Mostly the desire to capture the perfect shot wins

Occasionally I fully want to immerse in

The magic of the moment, and then I forget

About pictures that would never be perfect..