The C-Suite

CEO's make decisions, are the face of the org,

Take 6 figure salaries, fly in jets to Luxembourg. 

They are leaders par excellence, have charisma and drive,

Like Queen bees they are supported, by workers in the hive. 

COO's run the company, the day to day work,

When will they become #1, the ambition does lurk.

Managers par excellence, they know their people well,

In the desire to get results, they often on their people yell. 

CFO's crunch numbers, they ensure the cash flow,

They know when to raise investments, and in winter to lie low. 

Accountants par excellence, they know how to balance books, 

To save the costs they can be ruthless- don't go by their looks. 

We all aspire at times, to be a part of that, distinguished C-suite,

By the time we climb the ladder, are we so exhausted, to cheat is sweet?

Tu Culpa

That you would snap under pressure, are neither Teak nor Oak,

Is none of our fault - that much everyone should soak.

Adversity builds character, we define what's called normal,  

That you were born a Birch or a Willow, is profoundly abnormal. 

You have neither strength nor resilience, O Tempora O Mores, 

You had ambition to grow and get tall, now why cry hoarse?  

Why cry over spilled milk, Que Sera Sera is the way, 

Let the dead wood drift silently, let's burn pots out of clay.

 

In the furnace of life, let diamonds be wrought,

Let the young ones fuel the fire, before sets the rot. 

Sacrifice of a few is justified, if its to get work done,

Sorting through weak and strong- is a noble purpose for one! 

 

That some of us snap under pressure, is the fault in our trees?

That some can't withstand the toxic winds, but were made for the gentle breeze? 

 

You Win Some, You Lose Some

Driven by a desire, to prove our tenants wrong,  

That they can't crash my career, the preparation was a song.

Topping JEE in the city, getting a 98 AIR,

Was a cherry in the cake, my golden hour.

 

Driven by a desire, to prevent the third world war,

Giving it my all, as the doomsday seemed next door,

I gave 2 attempts, didn't make it to the interview stage,  

Not many know that aspect- I've disowned that phase. 

Driven by a desire, to make psychology my day job,

I gave GRE, left IT companies- but it was all a sorry sob. 

2 failed attempts at Flourish Mentoring, 5 yrs that were fallow, 

Eventually led to PeakMind, I'm now that 'second career' fellow. 

 

Slowly and steadily I've arrived, failures have punctuated that occasional success,  

Now that you know my inner story, please don't let that make you think of me less. 

 

 

Time to Rewrite the Textbooks

Cheap Chinese goods - buying them considered anti-national, 

Many don't maximize utility, not all are what may be called rational.  

Others don't maximize profits, they spawn a social enterprise, 

They are driven by purpose and passion- and their tribe continues to rise. 

 

The concept of rational agents, is a fiction and nothing more,

That we are selfish- and that's optimal- needs to be shown the door. 

In a market that's not free, where information is constrained, 

We need interventions to break monopolies, so that consumer isn't left drained. 

 

Even if information was perfect, and our computing of pros and cons infinite,    

We'll be better served by emotions, as our logical decisions come back to bite.

We didn't choose our partners, to maximize RoI and minimize opportunity cost,

We believe in love and commitment, and not all to economics is lost. 

We are taught in Econ 101, that we should be selfish, rational and calculate cold, 

The reality is we help each other, are emotional and not all are digging for gold.

Immersion

Come again, You departed too soon,

You'll come again, I'm over the moon.

The one who comes, has to eventually go away,

Only a few are remembered, a few hold sway.

As You leave my home, You reside in my heart,

The memories make an imprint, as You gently depart.

They're enough to sustain, for the rest of the year,

That I'll see You again, makes me content my dear. 

 

10 days of connection, what more can I ask? 

11th day is to let go - I am put to task.

Can I come to terms - You'll no longer be there, 

When life turns to grey, is coveting You unfair?

It's easy to philosophize - one who comes has to go,

I'll keep You in my heart, immersed, is all I know!

Better Than Me?

What to play next, I let Spotify decide,

I let algorithms rule, as long as there's manual override.

I can skip a song, choose what to play next, 

But I'm usually on auto play- the algo knows the best.    

Be it operators in lifts, or controls in self driving cars, 

We initially design things, where there's scope for manual overpower.

Slowly and steadily, we need to hand over the reins,

Let the pilots enjoy the scenery, while the machine flies the planes.  

To do manually leads to errors, to outcomes that are lame,

That AI can do something better, but we don't trust- is a shame.

The accidents can reduce, if there were self driving cars, 

No alcohol, no road rage, no fatigue, no breaking of laws.

 

The algo has a better insight, it can make a better decision, 

I'll trade in my autonomy any day, just allow me my manual intervention. 

 

Why They Die

A student dies to suicide, every 40 minutes,

I understand, feel numb, I am at the end of my wits. 

Its a shocking stat, it drives home a sombre point,

That to slay this monster, we need an operation joint.

 

The state where I live - Maharashtra tops the chart,

The city I was born - Kota seems to have no heart, 

Or so the OTT and media, will have us believe,

If Kota was obliterated, will this scourge us leave? 

 

If you are not part of the solution, you are part of the rot, 

Maybe you push your child in careers, they don't like a lot.

The profs' unsaid expectations, the glorification of those who top,

If we are committed to Zero Suicide, all this has to first stop,

No one wants to talk about the culprit, the elephant in the room, 

We put pressure to forge diamonds, when they crumble- to blame whom?

Teacher's Day - A Call To Action

Some set in motion ripples, others leave a lasting impression.

Each touches our lives- for better or worse, in one or the other fashion. 

A teacher is not necessarily someone, you encounter in a classroom.

It's anyone who helps us learn and grow - from cradle to the tomb.

It's the teacher's job to push us, discover our limits, so we can break them,

In K.G. it may be learning alphabets, in college to play with the word's stem. 

Though challenges are an important part, a good teacher is equal parts support.

Scaffolding and shielding us, and in times of storm, becoming the nearest port.   

What happens to that teacher, who is now old and but forgotten, 

A few pupils maintain a bond, though they may not be their begotten.

The evidence though sparse, that what they did really mattered, 

Is enough to keep them going, though now they're worn and tattered. 

 

We seldom appreciate, how good a teacher, on calling will feel, 

Lets pick the phone and make their day- let's not our feelings conceal.

A Modern Guru (Prof Alok Rai)

When I chose to present Lolita, in the Modern Fiction class, 

Most were left aghast, as the topic seemed crass. 

Appreciating my analysis, I remember what you said next,

'If I was a little more braver, that would be my primary text'.

 

Modern Indian Fiction in Translation, the other course I took,

Exposed me to 'The Home and The World', a bible more than a book. 

The Rashomon style of narration, influenced my novella's form,

As the butterfly flapped its wings, I could find my voice, in the storm.

 

My sonnets followed an archaic pattern, but you never looked down,

On my attempts to redefine modernity, you did not frown.

You encouraged me to read poems, from other modern poets too,

To see whats going on in the mehfil, and not be left without a clue. 

I might not be a poet, just because of you, your influence might have been fleeing,

But you have achieved a more stellar feat- you've made me a sensitive, human being. 

 

 

 

The True North

Chasing numbers, running after MAU,

Targets achieved- now take a bow. 

Targets revised, new metric in place,

Incentives defined- now run at faster pace. 

Keep moving fast, numbers your True North,

If he doesn't count in MAU, he's not a user henceforth.  

Our billing is tied, to how many use our app, 

Let's engage as many as possible, there's no limit, no cap.

The mantra we should hum, daily MAU, MAU, MAU,

If we move to a higher slab, we would arrive, and how.

When I'm sleeping, I'm dreaming, how many users we can add,  

I'm getting obsessed with these numbers, is business really so bad?

 

Every business has a soul, why we started in first place, 

Either make the user center, or let's bow out with grace.

 

Modern Eklavya

Short stories written, in a creative writing course, 

Under your sharp eyes became, refined from coarse.  

That you read out excerpts, and appreciated in class, 

Made me feel like I'm 24 carats, not polished brass.  

Getting a seat in your course, was a stroke of luck, 

The assignments forced, my creativity to run amok. 

Though you were a celebrated poet, I never read your verse,

Our styles didn't really resonate- for better or worse. 

My collection's dark theme, was at odds with your ideology,

Not sure if you read till the end, for the epilogue was my apology.

I sent you my novella, expecting a Dakshina from my Guru,  

You were obliged to get me published, just like the sky is blue. 

 

I was audacious in those days, I am audacious still,

I admire you as my teacher, but I'll keep sharpening my quill. 

Teacher's Day Tribute - 1

Programming is a science, all programs should look the same, 

Given a problem statement, what can differ is a variable name.  

So used to say my prof, at the start of the CS 102,

Only to assert at the end -  programming is an art too.  

He taught me how to think logically, write algos and recurse, 

I remember him fondly nowadays, as the one who read my verse.  

Imagine the joy of finding, on the intranet he'd linked to my page,

The legitimacy it bestowed suddenly - all the world was my stage. 

 

It wasn't fame I was after, nor validation, or feelings of pity,

Just an ack that there was more to it, than mere rhythmicity. 

That a prof would care to read, and find good enough to link,  

Gave me courage to keep writing, and now I write in a blink. 

How to program with humility, I learned from you at IITD,

The right tribute to you Prof Suban, is if a good poet I can be!

Why I Won't Lay Arms

You can imitate a Monet, but can you create art?

You can initiate a dialogue, but does it have a heart? 

My input can't be gauged, unless its given a context,

My insight is unsurpassed, despite your corpus of text.

 

I may lose my job eventually, you're better at some chores,

When I don't have to earn my bread, that can open some doors. 

I'll keep thinking for myself, you can assist, but nothing more,

I'll keep doing the creative stuff, don't be a hog or a bore.

 

Trillions of docs you've memorized, millions of tokens I pass,

I can feed you all my sonnets, but can you match my class? 

I won't hit below the belt, that you sometimes hallucinate,

That's a common thread that binds us- we can rise above our fate.

 

You can mix and match great ideas, they're good you can't care less, 

You are neither driven by right or wrong, there I have an edge, God bless.