Constant Striving

Constantly searching for jobs, life is a living hell,

When will I get employed again, no one can tell.

I make good use of the time, write a poem a day,

No better heaven for me, if I may dare to so say.

 

I used to work in IT, heaven on earth,

Making meaningful products, of money no dearth.

The mind plays its tricks, first psychology, now poetry,

Felt like burning in hell, desperately pining to be free.

 

I've arrived at several places, the destination still eludes,

Life always keeps evolving, the current state a mere prelude.

I am eternally caught between, heaven and hell,

They are not merely out there, they are in my mind as well.

 

You can keep your heaven and hell, I'm content with my piece of earth,

Let me live a humdrum existence, sans the drama of constantly giving myself birth.

 

PS: This was first published on Medium here.  

Claiming a Full House

Success is desiring, and getting what you want,

It's writing your life story, in a bold and dynamic font. 

The constant striving, keeps you miserable and driven,

You have to actively stake your claim, it can't be just given.

 

Happiness is liking, and wanting what you get,

If it's lemons, you make lemonade, you don't cry or fret.

The constant adjustment, makes you complacent and dull,

With no unfulfilled desires, what's the point of living, you mull. 

 

The more you strive for success, the more empty you feel,

The more you pine for happiness, the more with ennui you deal.

The wise men say, it's best, to be equanimous and a Karm Yogi,

I think I've fulfilled the requirement, only to be called out a bogey.

 

Striving to be equanimous, adjusting to whatever hand I'm dealt,

I still feel hollow in my quest, and bored is all I've recently felt. 

Party Dynamics

Whenever a B'day party becomes due, scheduling it becomes a task,

You have to be careful of the Naaraz Foofas, lest someone you forgot to ask.

To ensure that everyone's voice is heard, we typically run a poll,

- That most people join and increase the bill - is our mutual unsaid goal.

 

Ram has a fast on Saturdays, Shyam on weekday works till late night,

So the Friday evening doesn't work out, nor any weekday festivity seems right.

Sunday brunch is ruled out, it's more drinks than food we covet,

Sunday evenings are challenging, Mohan has a recurring family date.

 

The above are general factors, there are seasonal reasons too,

That Navratra and pitrupaksh are dry days- who fathomed, who knew.

Some like me are always available, we click all options in the poll,

Till the time the party is finalized, our gustatory health takes a toll.   

 

In the end we always converge, although someone or other we miss,

On the rare occasion when all can make it, the party is pure bliss. 

The Door Not Taken

Some doors we choose, some doors choose us,

To leave the old baggage behind, is normally a big plus.

We can start afresh, breathe in our lives a new hope,

The only question remains, how with regret we cope.

 

For each door entered, means we left one behind,

To succeed we became ruthless, maybe stopped being kind.

The doors open both-ways, we can surely our steps retrace,

But the earlier version of ourselves, can we now truly face?

 

Sometimes we stand in the hallway, confused which door to choose,

A crowd eventually pushes us through, and our agency we lose.

It's better to have chosen and lost, than to let doors slam in our face,

We can be grateful for the door chosen, reminisce about what we left with grace.

 

Walking one door, inevitably means, surrendering our right to another,

Let's not glamorize the door not taken, it too has mortgages and bills, brother.

The Upside

In the stock market invest, what you can comfortably lose,

Trade in futures or options, or buy penny stocks, if you choose.

The upside should be enormous, the downside within limit,

You shouldn't have to play again, if even once the reward you hit.

 

When you write a poem daily, you only waste an hour,

It hardly matters if it's not viral, and doesn't travel far.

But imagine you spent a month, refining and polishing a draft,

When it doesn't resonate, the blow is hard, to your ego, to your craft.

 

If you're bootstrapping a startup, never put in that basket all eggs,

When you become the 9 in 10 statistic, can you snap back, the question begs.

Fail early, fail fast, don't burn too much, is the mantra my dear,

The path to a unicorn is via phoenixes, that much is now clear.

  

I like to keep the costs low, you can call me risk averse,

A masterpiece may still emerge, from my daily outpouring of verse.

12.5

Our federation consists of buildings, 13 to be precise,

We split our expenses by 12.5, in an attempt to be just and nice.

The flats in one of the buildings, are half as much as others,

It's only logical to bill them half, that's basic mathematics, brothers.

 

Within a building the logic falls short, the maintenance is flat,

Whether you live in a 2.5 or 3 BHK, you have to pay per the same diktat.

Some owners insist the maintenance bill, should be as per square foot,

Others who live on lower floors, to them lift replacement a point moot.

 

Each building has 3 EC members, which constitute the federation in form,

There are 39 members in total, but people have started clamoring for reform.

If 12.5 are the expenses, the 'half building' should have half reps,

How to divide a person in half, I'm slightly out of my depth.

 

12.5 or 13, I'm proud we live as one,

Supporting each other during trying times, hell may come.

Paradoxes

When it gets dark enough, you can finally see the stars,

One is so much more beautiful, with blemishes and scars.  

Distance makes it apparent, how strong is the underlying bond, 

You are naturally drawn to the moon, if you are confined to a pond. 

 

The old tree provides the shade today, to the saplings who are of limited use,

When you are wading through the poetic wasteland, you finally discover the muse.

Love finds its way with silent feet, when the heart has crouched, is all alone,

Only when you reach the nadir of your being, can you repent and sins atone.  

 

When sun lays down its arms at dusk, the occasion merits a heavenly hue,

The magnificence of nature manifests, when seen through the fragility of a dew.

The fire within burns strongest, when the other remains un-scorched,

Mere word play pierces like a poem, provided the message doesn't get botched. 

 

If you are worth labeling Handle With Care, you better be delicate and fragile,

Let my wounds fester and smoulder instead- for they can make you laugh and smile.