Being Ill

Somedays it gets so difficult to take even one more step,

The more the work the piles on as the more you fret. 

You want to just pull the blanket over your head

And escape this world and its demands; pretend that you're dead. 

You want to curse yourself for giving up, 

Is this how one behaves as a grown up?

You sigh! You trudge up another step,

You hope that at least what you deserve you now get.

You wonder why today is when you want to cry,

Why nothing seems possible how muchever you try.

And then your mother asks "Are you ill?"

And your thermometer shows 102°and is climbing still...

- Written on 9 Dec 2014

- Self-Explanatory.

The Dropouts

Have you ever seen the angst he hides
As into his wrist a blade he slides?
The girl on that 7th floor sill,
Crying, "No more, no more", in a voice shrill,
Have you seen the tears
That even then to shed she fears?

What systems we breed
That make kids bleed?
What is this greed
That only marks can feed?
What is this creed
That blots out any other need?

No fun and games.
No leisurely days.
No patience for mistakes.
Are these really childhood days?

School, tuitions, classes even
Oh! So very carefully chosen,
Each adding to the 'value' of a person,
That will aid to secure some deemed admission.

Then a good job, then a better pay,
Then a better lifestyle, then a place to stay,
Then a family to make, then kids to entertain,
Then all these to maintain.
When, who will stop this train?
When will from blindly following 'success' we refrain?

Dropouts! I salute you for taking a stand
For your attempt to follow your heart, not the lay of the land,
For inspiring a few more to follow your lead,
For spreading the syndrome of a 'bad seed'.
'Be happy' - your sucess mantra,
Thank you for showing the blade boy and the sill girl a new vista!

Bravo!

- Written on 7 December 2014
- Irritated by multiple conversations in the past week about tuitions, marks, resume profiles. Even NGO work is done for an SOP, not society!!!
- And yes, dedicated to Karthik too.
- BTW, so many students approach so many a time (at least it seems that way to - frustrated with my helplessness - me). How does one help them, how does one counsel thwir families, for they often are the ones in need of a reality check, how does one change the system - one admires, promotes the intrepid daredevils.

Salaam!

Commute: An Education

Travel: a bane they say.
I agree. Sometimes, it is a pain.
But spare a thought to all that we gain,
As to a destination we make our way.

An aunty next to me is counselling
The new bride on MIL tackling.
A 70 year old is us informing,
How her will leaves her offspring nothing.

She goes on to grouse,
That she gave them education, food and house,
They expecting more is just unfair,
When so many orphans are in despair.

Where to find new bags, shoes, clothes,
Deals to skip and what to NOW foreclose.
Candies for a crying child magically appear,
Just as the 5th one on a 3 seater adjusts her rear.

Even as the stench of sweat stultifies
The train picks up speed and a breeze revives.
Tolerance, camaraderie, confidence, passion,
Aggression, isolation. Commute: an education.

- Written on 4 December 2014.
- While commuting in the train I received yet another Whatsapp message from a cousin commisserating about the amount of travel we Mumbaikars have to do. While I crib too, something in me also wanted to defend our way of living: travelling.
I had more lines, but my station was coming up and had to alight. Now, dunno. :)