Mother's Day 2022

Mother's Day!

She taught me to ponder, to question, to fight. 

She taught me to speak up and not compromise. 

She taught me to revel even in small glories of life

She taught me to see the inconsistencies, the humour in strife. 

Death or Life is what one makes of it. 

The beginning is an end and the end a beginning.

She taught me to respect myself before others.

She taught me self worth was the best among all treasures. 

She taught me to improve, she criticised like hell.

Oh the times we had when at each other we yelled!

The next minute was tea time and we were at peace.

She taught me to compartmentalise thus with ease. 

"She is gone, you must miss her," people say.

But I can still hear her tell me that I am turning her hair more grey 😂

She has left a legacy that I cannot live up to

But then I am only making her words come true. 😜

"Potential wasted", "Head up in clouds" 

Her voice still resounds. 

But I know I can go onward for she gave me hope and faith. 

She taught me there was nothing that could stand in my will's way. 

She taught me that we never really fail. 

She taught me to chart my own path as I set sail. 

I can never be as good as her. 

I also did not learn all from this teacher. 

But we had loads of fun along the way. 

And people may go, but memories stay.

So thank you, Amma, for so many gifts

Treasured moments, togetherness even admist rifts. 😁

For teaching, persevering, challenging, 

For befriending, supporting, understanding. 

May you be free (in all senses) now

Wherever you are, take a bow 😜

For this too a scolding; I can construct the litany. 

But hey, it is a free world, and you taught me to push boundaries. 😜😂

- Written through 7 night -8 morning May 2022.

- Self-explanatory. 

Celebrate: This is not a loss.

'How do you feel?' 

'Be not strong, let go', say people

But the legacy left me is courage

To try, to smile, even when afraid.

To accept gracefully

Fate's decree. 

To not lament one's lack. 

To focus on blessings had. 

To strive to be better. 

To not let limitations deter.

Some who know me, know

How I have had to 'go with the flow':

To struggle to even walk,

To hold a pencil or to even talk. 

Through dark times and the times of happiness

Mom was a powerhouse relentless. 

Do I miss her? I know not.

I can still hear her at me scoff. :)

Maybe when memory fades

When of her voice, her face, there is just a faint trace.

Then I will mourn the distance. 

For now she is painfree. 

Charting her new path and as usual making merry. 

For now I am glad she won her toss. 

On her terms came death: Celebrate. This is not a loss.

- Written through 23-28 April 2022.

- Self-explanatory. 

Amma — Kamala Ramanathan

Sometimes words fail

For emotions are complex, thoughts frail.

A flat line can say a lot,

Gone. Breathed her last.

A relief from all the pain for her. 

For newer, better pastures, checked out of earth.

As people recount their favourite memories

I realise afresh her rich legacy:

A life well lived

With amazing grace and grit.

She was fading anyway

She to a shell was changed.

So, this is release.

May she be at peace,

Long lost, hard won. 

Cheers to my friend, my teacher number one.

Amma - Kamala Ramanathan

16 Sep 1951 - 20 April 2022: Earth journey marked done.

- Written on 20 April 2022 

- Self-explanatory. 

May whoever gets her eyes and skin stay blessed.

The End of an Era

The end of an era,

The end of Lata

The beloved voice of India

Irreplaceable, revered, multi-talented womaniya.

From the tumri to the ghazal,

From pop to classical

Her voice mesmerized

She sang and we rejoiced.

She could bring us a tear

She could emote pity and fear

She could make us laugh

She could inspire us to strive hard.

Itni shakti hume dena daata was an assembly prayer

For greatness, to better oneself she made us care. 

She took us on a journey of Ajeeb dastaan

Never wanted it to end, this beautiful samaa.

Romance was defined by the voice of this spinster

Tragedy to comedy she added to all intricate layers.

 

Her awaaz is her pehchaan

Ti gaati kiti chaan, ti hasti mahaan. 

With 50,000 songs in 14 languages

She has won the world through all ages. 

Bharat Ratna to Padma Bhushan

Awards could not catch up with this talent.

Death too cannot win, for she is legend.

Lata Mangeshkar, you will live on in the songs we listen.

- aWritten on 6 Feb 2022.

- Self-explanatory. 

Happy New Year - 2022

Happy 2022 Everyone!

_________________________________

For my annual diatribe read ahead. I really have not much to recap this year, though. There are more personal or local memories than global / national  ones currently. 

2021 - Goodbye time is at last here

You gave us hope and so much fear

You carried the 2020 legacy

You built on the pandemic driving us crazy

As more vaccines arrive in the market

More variants continue the lockdown effect.

Each time we thought the wave was done

You gave us a grander, newish one.

You have changed forever some of our industries

Not that it helped address climate change activities. 

Ripples will be felt for many a generation

As school children seem to socialise and learn have forgotten. 

Resilience is a word that we learnt to live

We again saw medics give and give. 

Essential workers have been our heroes

Sanitation workers, teachers, couriers - each the world so much owes. 

As families were locked in, neighbours stepped in

A new society, new ways perhaps has set in

Our world has both contracted and expanded

Home and work can they ever be now be separated? 

Protests work proved farmers as they fought steadily

The Left is still the choice of the Keralite and the Bengali

Sports is still dominated by news of Kohli

21 years later Ms Universe is from India happily.

Taliban rule in Afghanistan - a blow to democracy

The attempted coup in America - more evidence of fragility. 

2021 you have not been kind, 

There is so much to tell, but no words I find

As cases rise, we are never free

Of the vaccines and boosters' unending story

Events galore and yet just one lore

Covid-19 is still at the fore

Omicron, RTPCR, lockdown, section 144, isolation

These words have become a part of everyday conversation.

We are so weary as we ring you out

We so very much want to the pandemic rout.

2022, may you bring us cheer

May we see in-person our near and dear

May the world be healthy and safe

May education never ever again await

May peace and prosperity reach all

May happiness be your clarion call.

- Written on 31 December 2021.

- Self-explanatory. I am so very tired. I had a million events (it seemed) to record and I lost the thread as Omicron cases kept rising. 

Happy Diwali 2021! Post 02 of 02

Post 2 on Diwali.

Have a fantabulous day, weekend and year, everyone. 

Caution: Rhyme 2 of the day ahead.

Clean up the mess created

Of environment, of the world, of our lives interrupted.

Throw out the old ways and convictions

Of fossil fuels, of material consumption. 

Usher in new beliefs, new systems

Of equality, of inclusion, of perseverance.

Discard over work and tiredness as the mantra

For progress, success, find a new abracadabra.

Adopt a new wholesome policy

Of defining worth by being happy.

Find treasures buried deep in mind:

Aspirations and talent, in the rat race, left behind.

Polish them lovingly, carve out time

They will give joy and is that not prime?

Display your passions, your aspirations, 

Boldly walk towards their realisation. 

Burst your insecurities, your trepidations, 

Let them sparkle towards extinction. 

Celebrate the world as one

This Diwali, 2021.

- Written on 04 November 2021.

-Self-explanatory

FB Link: https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10157887580536230&id=692626229

Happy Diwali 2021! Post 01 of 02

Wishing you and yours a Happy and Safe Diwali 2021. 

Caution: My rhyme ahead, :) 

Lights! We need them so

In darkness we are tired, afraid, alone. 

Locked in, locked up, locked down

Our world has shrunk, thoughts tightly bound.

Now the world is opening up

Stay safe. Stay alert. Let not Covid reerupt. 

Diwali reminds that on the darkest of nights

If we persevere, we will triumph.

This festival is about victory

Of truth, of knowledge, of good, of plenty, 

Of sharing, of caring, of ensuring

That those around us are also thriving.

This festive season let us see light, 

The one within our hearts glowing bright

Of kindness, of sensibility, of the thirst to improve

Guiding us as towards prosperity and joy we move.

- Written on 04 November 2021.

- Self-explanatory. 

FB link: https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10157887500716230&id=692626229 

Making Memories

The anticipation of meeting

The smells and sounds of travelling

The wait at the signal

The walk to Room 1, the destination final.

Yes we met on Zoom and Meet

On Telegram Groups everyday each other we greet.

But the heat of the day, the thirst we feel

The loud voices that over masks distances heal.

The roundabout introductions

The teasing and the one-on-one conversations

The informal tour of the campus as a TISSian

That to even old timers now feels alien

The talk of cats and monkeys

And of shortcuts and libraries

Seeing the new home of the Centre

The sun beating down on us admist the banter

The stillness of air, the sweat, the tea, the brownies

The contrast of an actual classroom earlier and the terrace wannabe

All coalesce in one unforgettable memory

This is why the virtual can never beat physical reality. 

- Written on 15 October 2021.

- On 14 October 2021, a few of us Mumbai-based students and faculty gathered together to finally meet after a year and half of online classes.

Self-Pity or Self-Care?

There is a fog in my head, 

I cannot hear or see

What my ears and eyes covey to me. 

There is a din that I hear

In the nothingness clouding my brain

Silence can be loud. Have you heard its refrain? 

There is an emptiness I so sorely feel

I see colours and yet everything feels grey

Is it the world or me that seems to be fading away? 

There is a mountain pressing my chest

It is difficult to breathe.

Exhale. Inhale. Difficult, but repeat. 

There is so much to do, my checklist awaits

Yet all I can do is write this rhyme

Complain, ironically, that I have no time. 

Yet, I regret not, these moments of self-pity

These are all that allow me to just BE. 

And find sanity in insanity, in chaos peace.

- Written on 13 Sep 2021. 

- Self-Explanatory. Am supposed to chase deadlines that I have no longer any energy for and no reason why I am so lethargic. 

Happy Ganesh Chathurthi - 2021

Ganesh Chathurthi is here again,

A year of strife, a year of strain.

The remover of obstacles reminding us

We have not yet learnt to focus

On issues important.

We will likely regret.

Climate change and hostile takeovers,

Children neglected, the poor lacking even leftovers.

While Bezos' and Ambanis' losses and rises recorded

And mindless WhatsApp messages forwarded.

Ekdanta did not proceed without understanding

Every word of the Mahabharat that he was scribing.

Vignaharta will not just wash away our troubles,

Sarvasiddhantha will wait for us to learn from our foibles.

So this year, Vinayaka, enable us to understand and act:

Prioritise lives and quality over dry economic fact.

Kripalu, help us feel for our fellow-beings,

Muktidaya, help us a lead a life of purpose, of meaning.

~ Anusha Ramanathan

Happy Ganesh Chathurthi, everyone.

- Written on 10 September 2021 and posted on Facebook.

- Self-Explanatory.

After a Hiatus - On Facebook -

I posted a request. I posted after a long time. Am touched by the number of people who helped me find translators and actively reached out. I am also touched by the many who asked why I had not been posting. I have been asked this earlier as well.

My Response in Verse (Bad verse strikes again 🙂)

I have been asked time and again

Why I have broken my posts chain.

Random ones on events occurring,

Of what some said or just pics and ramblings.

Why no post on the Covid-19 crisis?

And not on the Mizoram-Assam border conflict,

Not on Afghanistan nor the climate

Nor the Olympic wins. Why so quiet?

I have written, but I do not dare

My angsty pourings to so publicly share.

I have no patience for the comment or two awry

For someone to report me, for Facebook to block me.

And no I do not want to post

As it rains of having tea and toast.

Or a personal moment sad or happy

Does posting these bring the world closer to me?

The many deaths and illnesses among colleagues, friends and family.

The many births and recoveries that spread cheer in this time of difficulty.

The moments of escapism into worlds of fantasy

On TV and YouTube, in books and posts, in imagination roaming free.

Yes recording these and more might be useful, but what role then of memory?

The emotions felt, let them be.

In activism engage quietly

One-on-one converse sporadically.

On WhatsApp groups, On Telegram too

The promptness reduced.

The mails shorter and pointed

I can see some are worried, some disappointed.

This is a phase

Or may be a permanent change,

But as of now, this is me.

Sigh! Sharing takes up too much energy.

~ Anusha Ramanathan

And those who know me too well, will sigh and say, our peace is ruined, she has recovered some energy and will surely now yak away. 🤣

To them, I say, no, not yet. But I am recovering. Sympathies. 😜

- Written (mostly) on 29 August 2021. Posted on Facebook with some edits on 1 September 2021 in response to my request.

- Self-Explanatory.

An ex-student wrote the following as a response that touched me a lot. Thank you Souvik :)

Social commentary is tiring I agree

But requires patience like growing a tree

Remember the moment you had begun

Is the purpose now done?

Ur posts are like a beacon spreading light.

Most will be enlightened but some will put up a fight.

Do it for "your why"

Do it for those who are low or high

Do it for yourself

Your thoughts reach many and they help. 

Happy Teachers' Day - 2021

Happy Teachers' Day!

The following is part a tribute and part a diatribe, so feel free to skip.

My teachers have so influenced me

Encouraged me to be the best of me.

I do not always succeed, but I try,

For that was all they asked: that I strive.

To allow for change,

To failure acknowledge,

To wholeheartedly appreciate

Others' best and emulate.

At home, my first, my mother,

In school and college so many others,

But also in books, in films, on travels,

They come in all shapes and sizes, these marvels.

Not merely a sage on stage, the teacher.

A friend, a guide, a mentor, a healer.

With actions, with caring, always inspiring,

Imbuing learning, never stopping.

Some of my teachers are retired now,

But their legacy continues and how.

A class I took yesterday on grammar,

I remembered my UKG teacher.

Mrs D'Souza with her long nails

Coaxing me to speak correctly admist my wails.

So many more such memories of learning,

I am blessed. I know, but what of those currently suffering.

Schools shut down for a year and more.

Technology distant, more than before.

If today's young are to shape our tomorrows,

How will they be enabled. We are doling out only sorrows.

Rules changing. Fears overriding.

To be or not to be in schools parents deciding.

As if learning is an option, the primary neglected.

The vaccines developed: The older protected.

Yes, health is important, but have we tried,

To help teachers through their strife?

Reduced wages, job losses, technology woes.

Coping with so many obstacles, our heroes.

Hiring paused when we never needed them more.

To plug the gaps, relying on private players and NGOs.

Pass percentages and exams the focus still

Assessment not learning continues to be the drill.

Oh! the future, so bright and beautiful.

Without learning, is this possible?

Teachers are trying, but are we?

Could we focus on education for humanity?

~ Anusha Ramanathan

Happy Teachers' Day.

Actions speak louder than words.

- Written on 5 September 2021 and posted on Facebook. Shared initial part on WhatsApp, etc with Tecahers.

- Self-explanatory.

Afganistan, I pray - 2021

Kudah Gawah and Kabuliwala

A film and a short story

That sparked my imagination

As a child made me yearn.

To travel to this land dear

Towering mountains, a sky so clear,

Crystal water, hearts equally pure,

This land of Gandhari has always lured.

These days but, it reeks of terror

We read with trepidation of the many horrors

The land free is shackled tighter

Its people fleeing. So much fear.

This country, a pawn, in others' dare

A people we love, but how to show we care. 

The west, the east, blame game aplenty

I pray that we there be light soon, no more tragedy.

Yet, we know better, we can see clear, 

This has been brewing for many a year.

We need a global solution, not a coloniser's greed,

We all must to Afghanistan's peace pay heed.

~ Written on 16 August 2021.

- Reference: https://www.nytimes.com/live/2021/08/15/world/taliban-afghanistan-news.amp.html

 

Drip. Drip. Drip. Your Energy?

Drip. Drip. Drip. That is your energy.

Exiting slowly your body.

A message for a link that you heed

Just 5 minutes is all you need.

Calls ignored, but notification registers 1,2,3...

And your friendship slogan is "Count on Me"

You call back, how can you not

In times such as these so little to give you have got.

You listen to laments and cries

You tear up but console that time flies. 

There is so much sickness all around you

You see deadlines too

You know it just writing a page or two

You know what to write and how, but do you? 

Vessels get cleaned, the floor gets wiped

Clothes get washed, the food cooked fine

The laptop blinks: just a page or two,

The calendar reminds, but where are you? 

You hold your breath, can you feel yourself? 

You inhale and exhale till you are almost senseless.

Just a page or two, just one more call, just a meeting or two

Listen, write, it is not so much to do.

You can multitask: listen as you clean, 

Write as you weep.

Drip. Drip. Drip. That is not your energy.

It is you leaving the shell of your body.

Reset. Recover. Discover, the joy in you. 

No one can help, if you do not prioritise you.

- Written on 16 May 2021. 

- Self-explanatory. 

Panic or Revel?

Those breathless moments

Soaked in desperation

Monitors and pumps

May help tide over these bumps

But the memories, oh they do so linger

Waking you up gasping in fear

A life well lived, well loved is precious

Death's calling should not make one anxious

The best keepsakes are memories of love and laughter

Bodies may die, but people in our ideals and values live forever.

So, cherish these moments of togetherness

Revel that you were blessed with such greatness.

- Written on 15 May 2021. 

- Somehow times seem to become only increasingly challenging, making me feel anxious, tense, panicky and yet knowing all the while that I am one of the blessed. 

Mother's Day - 2021

I generally write something this day.

But words seem to fail me today.

Celebrate what? Cherish whom

In this era of increasing doom?

Mothers, Migrants, the story the remains the same

We mouth words, we placate

One year has passed

Yet nothing has really changed,

Mothers still sacrificers,

Migrants still unsupported,

It is still mayhem's reign

May Day! May Day!

Happy Mother's Day in 2021!

Will in 2022 at least we have a new chapter begun? - Written on 9 May 2021.

- Self-explanatory Also - Find on Facebook

A Story of a Woman in Covid-19 Times

It was a 1 room kitchen. A small bathroom-cum-toilet where one could touch the other end of the wall with just an outstretched arm. The wall paint was peeling. The blue-grey colour was morose anyway. It perhaps was good that the white of the spackle was showing up as patches. The rooms seemed more lively thus.

She peeled vegetables for the evening dinner as she spoke into her headset. Who would believe she was in marketing and sales. She was rotating the same 3 night suits for weeks now. The internet speed could not support the video if she turned her camera on, so she did not need to dress up.

No lipstick to add colour and courage to allow her to smile. No mascara to hide the sadness in her eyes and give a sense of joy, even if false. No blush to remind her of youth and hope. Now her tear swollen eyes stared back at her accusingly. Her lips drooped south and the only colour in them came from her biting them so often to hold back her pain. Her face did have colour, but purple not pink. Her husband too knew that she could not show her face, so he no longer seemed to care where he hit her.

Oh it was not often. Generally, because of his stress. His work was high pressure. He was a nurse. He could not help but feel distressed. The number of Covid-19 cases in his hospital had put the staff under so much pressure. Plus all the deaths. He had changed. How could he not? She needed to be more understanding. She needed to find better ways he could let off steam. She had tried. It was difficult to think of ways all by herself. But whom could she ask? It was just voice raised in temper, irritability and a couple of broken plates so far. Nothing drastic. She had tried. But, oh, she was so tired as well.

He mocked her. Just a few Zoom calls or Google Meets and housework. Try doing his job. She agreed. But how she yearned to escape. To go out for a movie. To let loose with friends over some food and drinks. To even go to his parents' house. Just anything. But yes, he had it tougher. How could she complain? 

She peeled the vegetables. She answered the sales queries. She bit her lip as another executive took the turn. She wondered how long this lockdown would last for and if she would ever be able to be the person she used to be. If there could be spring in her footsteps, a buoyancy in her smile and a sparkle in her eyes even if brought about by makeup. Even if it was all for performance for others. Even if. For that had been what had made her get up. Now that motive was gone. Why did she get up, she wondered. Why should she, she pondered. Maybe tomorrow I won't, she considered. No, tomorrow she wouldn't, she decided.

But was it her decision to make? Her husband shook her up and asked for breakfast. When it was not ready on time, a slap awaited her. Some more words. She could make no sense of them. But she nodded. She then, as usual, switched on her laptop, hooked on her headset and made the calls. 

Habits were funny things. They often times overrode decisions one had made.

- Written on 26 April 2021.

- Covid-19 has made me listen so often at the other end od the phone, feeling helpless against the anguish pouring out through the speaker. Not even a hug can be given. Never realised how comforting it is to comfort. This is just my imagination, but the inspiration is sadly all too real in not the events, but the double burden borne by so many women. 

April 2021

April is here - A new season

The arrival of Spring, harken!

Many partings 

For new beginnings. 

The old still lingering

As scents, as strengths supporting

The new await to welcome

As bursts of joy, of colour, as friends bosom. 

Partings are not endings

As they lend hope and strength for fresh beginnings.

To those who left us wonderful memories

Thank you. And fare well in your new journeys. 

We are ever there to egg you on

We are ever there to rely on.

- Written on 4 April 2021. 

- Many exits in my workplace and updates of more such on LinkedIn and Facebook. Sad times can also be happy. Trying to focus on the positive. 

Happy Holi - 2021

Throw colours merrily

Revel in the camaraderie

Enemies, strangers, friends, family

Can you identify them distinctly?

Clothes, skin, hair, nothing is different

Colours have seeped our pores even

Colours show us our superficiality

Why bother with trifles? Ware all one, essentially.

It may take days to wash the colours away

But I hope the feeling of oneness remains

Till next year when we meet again

In ourselves and each other renew our faith.

Play with colours or do not

But these human bonds we to celebrate ought.

Happy Holi!

- Written on 29 March 2021. 

- Self Explanatory. 

Friends

Friends, it is difficult to define them

They come in all forms, through all means

But essentially, they make you feel at ease. 

You take from them, you may give them

But this isn't an account to tally

The giving, the receiving all makes one be at peace. 

The time spent on chatting may seem a waste

But the minutes are precious, most heartening

They bolster a spirit weakening, deadening. 

It takes will and strength to get up and meet

It feels Hereculean and yet the rewards outshine easily

Just together being, of seeing, of breathing, makes one so happy.

- Written on 24 February 2021

- A friend, PS, took me out. We talked. We drank some form of iced tea. We talked. We drove back. Precious.