The Fool's Quest: September 2023

Sunday, September 17, 2023

To The One-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

'Learn the rules like a pro, so you can break them as an artist',

Build to a predictable crescendo, and in the end add a twist.

The form is fixed at 14 lines, you can call it a sonnet, if you like,

Having mastered the art of suffering, you can now do stand ups and open mike.

Creativity entails respecting the bounds, and then stretching a little beyond,

To see a thing from different Point Of Views - each time a new use is spawned.

A simple pencil, in the Alternate Uses Test, can take many forms- become a magic wand,

When you pen a few lines, daily with its help, with the reader you create an unbreakable bond.

For 21 days, you vowed to write, as that much time, a habit takes,

Some were genuine masterpieces, others superficial and only fakes.

Today it reaches an anti climax, a poem that's about the journey itself,

No standard topic to write about- no suicides, ChatGPT- nothing off the shelf.

21 poems in 17 days, I've raced ahead of the proverbial curve,

To have not mentioned you in these poems of love, I sure as hell have a lot of nerve.

Note: This poem is a part of a collection of poems titled Flotsam and Jetsam. You can read them below:

If you are in India you can buy a copy from either Amazon or Flipkart.

If you are outside India, you can order a digital copy here.

Thanks for supporting me and my work!

Birthday Celebrations

Ganesha is a dear friend, so I wish Him on his B'day, rest of the year I have amnesia,

When I talk to Him, I'm praying, when He talks back, you think, I have schizophrenia.

Just like old friends, seldom need to talk, yet when they connect, all hell breaks loose,

All year long, we may be busy in our lives, but Ganeshotsav is where, I let my hair loose.

More than a week full of revelry, bonding with dear friends,

Sports day and cultural nights, I get emotional when it ends.

Daily snacks and prasadam, not good for my diabetic health,

I won't trade this for anything, neither prosperity nor wealth.

Fashion shows in Ganpati, Home minister and Tambola too,

Bhajan Sandhya next to Bollywood night- most cheer, some boo!

With time tradition needs to keep pace, I can only talk, in a language I know,

As long as He replies, to me now and then, my love for Him, will continue to grow.

To top it all, the last day procession, is peaceful even, where there's Hinduphobia,

Lets chant together, that He returns early next year- our beloved Ganpati, Bappa Moraya.

Note: This poem is a part of a collection of poems titled Flotsam and Jetsam. You can read them below:

If you are in India you can buy a copy from either Amazon or Flipkart.

If you are outside India, you can order a digital copy here.

Thanks for supporting me and my work!

Saturday, September 16, 2023

In The Spotlight

This city has slowly and steadily, become an epidemiological hotspot,

Whether its Covid, Nipah or Dengue, I'll leave for you to spot.

The population dividend of youth, on which people had set hope high,

Has suddenly backfired here, and from this viral disease now many people die.

While in China its on decline, in the US its on rise,

In India its difficult to measure, but this city has won the prize.

It used to fluctuate seasonally, peaking in May/June time,

Now the peak has shifted to August, without reason or rhyme.

All we know for certain, its more fatal in boys than girls,

Many oysters broken/ left behind, in the search for the golden pearls.

Some areas within the hotspot, are hotter and in red more,

No wonder they are located, near institutes of legends yore.

The Kashi of education, this city claims to be,

If we don't eradicate soon enough, the city of death it will truly be.

Note: This poem is a part of a collection of poems titled Flotsam and Jetsam. You can read them below:

If you are in India you can buy a copy from either Amazon or Flipkart.

If you are outside India, you can order a digital copy here.

Thanks for supporting me and my work!

Mark My Words

This journey may look difficult, but don't lose hope a bit,

Always live by the dictum - "Rest if you must, but don't quit".

You never know, what twists and turns, life has in its store,

If one door closes for you perchance, God will open another door.

You may think you are a burden, without you your parents better off,

Always remember, losing you means, a permanent pain, and not one-off.

You may feel a bit lonely at times, that nobody gives a damn or cares,

At those times remember, there's a poet out there, who gets you and your pain shares.

You may think you are living a nightmare, but this too shall pass,

Life is too precious to be thrown away, become steel, not brass.

To be polished is to endure pain, but the results will dazzle all,

That you are a phoenix and can rise again- is not an order tall.

Bookmark my words and read often, life is full of strife,

A timely recall, there's someone out there, may help save your life.

Note: This poem is a part of a collection of poems titled Flotsam and Jetsam. You can read them below:

If you are in India you can buy a copy from either Amazon or Flipkart.

If you are outside India, you can order a digital copy here.

Thanks for supporting me and my work!

Peepli Live

This one died by hanging, this one by taking pills,

This one died because his dad, couldn't pay the bills.

This one went to the 7th floor, of the coaching institute,

This one died as the monsoon, left his family destitute.

This one hacked the spring-led fans, used the window sill,

This one took paracetamol, in doses that can kill.

This one died because of marks, this one due to love affair,

This one died because he was caught, cheating, how he dare.

This one happened to be successful, and completed suicide,

This one was pushed to the brim, couldn't parents wish abide.

These ones may be triggered easily, and become copycats,

But we won't mention helplines, only numbers and stats.

Media guidelines strictly prohibit, mentioning method, location, or giving a single cause,

Constantly bombarded by this insensitive coverage, how can we hope, to put this menace to pause?

PS: This poem is deliberately written in a satirical and insensitive mode and is not intended to be the right way of reporting or talking about suicide. In case you or someone you know is triggered by thoughts of suicide after reading this, please know that help is available. You can find a list of helpline numbers here http://www.aasra.info/helpline.html

Note: This poem is a part of a collection of poems titled Flotsam and Jetsam. You can read them below:

If you are in India you can buy a copy from either Amazon or Flipkart.

If you are outside India, you can order a digital copy here.

Thanks for supporting me and my work!

Friday, September 15, 2023

Instant Recharge

Instant friendship, instant divorce,

Love at first sight, not taking sweet course.

We are used to gratification, at a button's click,

To wait for love to ripen, seems a concept sick.

Infatuation steals the show, over companionate love,

The promise of an enduring bond, you can up your arse shove.

Its boring, its common place, it lacks the thrill,

Long term is for losers, not for ones who go for the kill.

Instant deliveries and instant likes,

Leave an instant review, if service is good or yikes.

Between the stimulus and response, lies our freedom- they say,

But to react in time's more tempting - it keeps FOMO at bay.

They say poetry is nothing, but emotions recollected in tranquility,

No matter how mundane my day goes by, I recharge instantly- add a poem to kitty.

Note: This poem is a part of a collection of poems titled Flotsam and Jetsam. You can read them below:

If you are in India you can buy a copy from either Amazon or Flipkart.

If you are outside India, you can order a digital copy here.

Thanks for supporting me and my work!

Thursday, September 14, 2023

Boys Dont Cry

Boys will be boys, they need to goof around,

Need to let out some energy, to keep their mind sound.

Over eons of evolution, they've become hunters who roam,

Eventually need to step out, from the confines of their home.

Girls will be girls, they need to gossip and talk,

To be toiling in solitude, is a thought at which they balk.

By nature they are less impulsive, or risk taking than the boys,

Are content with make-believe, and to play with dolls as toys.

Both are imprisoned now, but the girls for help reach out,

The girls may become more depressed, but the boys just grit it out.

Girls may cry a lot for help, by taking a jibe at their life,

Boys just hide their tears, move on, and take life in its stride.

After all, isn't it a basic tenet, that boys don't cry,

To maintain that tough image, they have to be ready to die.

Note: This poem is a part of a collection of poems titled Flotsam and Jetsam. You can read them below:

If you are in India you can buy a copy from either Amazon or Flipkart.

If you are outside India, you can order a digital copy here.

Thanks for supporting me and my work!

Wednesday, September 13, 2023

Using ChatGPT

Generative AI is fascinating, I can play all day along,

Whether it has surpassed humans - not by a stretch long.

I can give it a single prompt, and generate countless variations on a theme,

At a click of a button I can create, a comprehensible and rapid stream.

Words pregnant with meaning, that automatically rhyme,

A few good turns of phrases - not using them a crime!

If I put my ego aside, forget the issue of authorship,

I'll let the LLM write my poems, and limit to editing, in a blip.

But how can I live with the issue, of biases and prejudice,

Maybe I too harbor deep inside, but on the surface I am nice.

When my poems get poisoned, with what spews on the net,

I'm sure you'll find another outlet, that's more congenial- I can bet.

There's a lot of cacophony all around, its not easy figuring signal from the noise,

You ask do I use ChatGPT, do I look stupid enough to lose my voice?

PS: None of my poems, including this one, except 1 or 2 where I explicitly mentioned, have been AI or ChatGPT assisted or created.

Note: This poem is a part of a collection of poems titled Flotsam and Jetsam. You can read them below:

If you are in India you can buy a copy from either Amazon or Flipkart.

If you are outside India, you can order a digital copy here.

Thanks for supporting me and my work!

To Be or Not to Be

To be or not to be, a doctor is the question,

I need to follow my parents footsteps, is my solemn confession.

No one mentions the grueling residencies, its a noble profession, I'm told,

If I crack NEET in one of the n attempts, I would have hit pure and instant gold.

To be or not to be, an engineer is the question,

I'm good at maths, that seals the deal, where is the confusion?

That I could have a love for science, prefer IISER over IITs,

Is something no one will ever understand, so let me focus on JEE please.

To be or not to be, a non conformist is the question,

If I wish to flourish and bloom, towards me I need to show compassion.

Visit a career coach early, better yet focus only on what I love,

Success wont come easy here too, but I'll find happiness, over and above.

Even after getting your dream stream, life is not easy going to be,

At each step, life may still ask the question- to be or not to be.

Note: This poem is a part of a collection of poems titled Flotsam and Jetsam. You can read them below:

If you are in India you can buy a copy from either Amazon or Flipkart.

If you are outside India, you can order a digital copy here.

Thanks for supporting me and my work!

Tuesday, September 12, 2023

Split And Cracked

A tough manager, by daytime, a sensitive poet by night,

You may say my personality is split, but to me it seems alright.

The dreams that haunt my nights, are executed and worked in day,

That I fulfill both roles well and fair, is something I daily pray.

There was a time, I used to run fast, now I prefer to dancing slow,

It may seem like I've given up, but I'm still not aiming low!

Success, money, fame and status, are things of past, now all beneath me,

Being content and doing right, is all that matters, in the end, you see.

Delivering impact, in daytime, applying balm, at night,

I'm miles away from being burnt out - and yet I'm burning bright.

Whatever little, gets drained in a day, I regain, as dusk sets in,

Reinvigorated and recharged, re-humanized from within.

My poems are not an outlet, to let out some steam,

Through the cracks the moonlight enters, so that during the day I beam.

Note: This poem is a part of a collection of poems titled Flotsam and Jetsam. You can read them below:

If you are in India you can buy a copy from either Amazon or Flipkart.

If you are outside India, you can order a digital copy here.

Thanks for supporting me and my work!

Monday, September 11, 2023

The Art of Saving Lives

Taking your own life, is not a sign of bravery, nor it is of cowardice,

Its an act of desperation, a plea for help - that the world be a bit, gentle and nice.

We shouldn't glamorize, the fatal act, or shun the one, who the attempt did survive,

We just need to be there, for them at that time, and gently need, to hope revive.

In some rare cases, they make a snap decision, in most others, its rather well planned,

A difference between life and death, a helpline that is, readily available and manned.

Calling the helpline, is a last resort, its a desperate measure, a cry full of pain,

A timely response, a feeling of being heard, the tragedy averted, now interventions remain.

Its a myth to think, one who has made his mind, is beyond redemption, or is immune to cure,

All they seek in the moment, is a way out of their troubles, and someone who understands, and will reassure.

Willing to share their pain, empowering them to solve, their problems of life, and how to cope well,

A good counselor, knows which parts to heal, and which parts to let buried, and on later dwell.

There's a science to it, there's a method to it, but saving lives, at the end is an art,

All it takes, is an empathetic ear, and a non judgmental, and caring heart.

Note: This poem is a part of a collection of poems titled Flotsam and Jetsam. You can read them below:

If you are in India you can buy a copy from either Amazon or Flipkart.

If you are outside India, you can order a digital copy here.

Thanks for supporting me and my work!

Sunday, September 10, 2023

Ab Tak 24...

What happens when you become, just an incremental number,

A stat that one dreads, and wants to hide, or keep in wraps and push under.

When you are good with data, all you care, how it compares with the norms of this age,

Reducing the deaths takes a backseat, whats important is to ensure proper press coverage.

15 are due to studies, - just 2 due to a failed love affair,

4 due to family tensions- so how's the city to blame, is it fair?

When lakhs of students descend each year, in this city to fulfill their sacred dreams,

Some collateral damage in this race to win, if within normal limits, is OK it seems.

And then I'm sure there are some orgs, in the Rest of the Bharat,

Who find relief and are actually happy, that this hasn't happened, under their Chhat.

A confluence of students, in this mecca of sorts, is seen by many as a problem in itself,

To me it seems, a place where with efforts, we can finally ensure, no student dies by self.

They left their child, in the warm protection, of a coaching institute and hostel / PG,

If a custodial death, happens on a regular basis, lets put behind bars, an entire industry, if need be.

Note: This poem is a part of a collection of poems titled Flotsam and Jetsam. You can read them below:

If you are in India you can buy a copy from either Amazon or Flipkart.

If you are outside India, you can order a digital copy here.

Thanks for supporting me and my work!