Indian Performance League

You've hit a few consecutive centuries, you can negotiate on your own terms,

The auction will yield new highs, you are the most valuable player for these firms.

Whether it was net practice or talent, maybe it was attitude or luck- who knows,

For now the companies are falling over each other, to hastily the deal close.

 

The honeymoon period is over, your performance off and on,

Whether you are a mule or a race horse, is yet to be known.

Poor show in a single match, may or may not lead to bench,

Younger talent can displace you still, throwing your life in wrench.

 

You were the star player, but few ducks in a row! 

Don't care if you are spent up, or have sadness to show,

It may be a relationship issue, or you may be suffering from bad form,

Can't keep you in the team forever, aren't layoffs the new norm?

Even if they lose a few matches, they can still proceed to playoff,

In the startup world come winter, you have to fold up, or layoff.

The Tyranny of Time

Tomorrow is where, dreams go on to die,

Yesterday is where, broken promises lie.

Today is all you have, use it before it withers,

Time is a slimy serpent, catch it before it slithers.

 

Tomorrow is like a stock option, it's merely paper money,

Yesterday's an account that's frozen, a result of bank scam, honey.

Today is hard cash, you can accumulate or spend,

Time will evaporate into ether, if you don't put it to an end.

 

Tomorrow is where, hope on a ventilator lives,

Yesterday is where, rootedness sustenance gives.

Today is all about action, unencumbered with past,

Time will ensure, your legacy and impact will last.

 

 Don't go on a time-hopping spree, just seize the day,

 Live in the moment, become a predator, let time be the prey.

Manifesting Outcomes

Some things are conscious, like the choices you make,

Deliberating, debating, deciding, to pick the path to take. 

Each option has a payoff, quickly calculate in your mind,

Once the strategy is frozen, execute ruthlessly amidst the grind.  

  

Some things are unconscious, like the hand with which you write,

Driven by habitual usage, they daily tilt you towards one side.

For most of your life you run, on a pilot that is auto,

Good habits lead to good outcomes, is your life's motto. 

 

Some things are random, like the person you meet in train,

They end up becoming your partner, its fate you can't explain. 

Major turning points in life, can be attributed to sheer luck,

Whether it's good fortune, or the slings and arrows you duck.

 

Not all outcomes are in your control, there's always a place and room for God,

Whether from choice, habit or happenstance, you have to wave first for Him to nod. 

Putting Into Words

Tears can't envelop it, the feeling is sublime, 

It drowns your heart, without reason or rhyme.

There is a sense of loss, as if you're less than before,

The past makes a comeback, bringing memories to the fore.

 

 From the moment that was vanquished, to the moment that is bleak, 

 A pathos engulfs you, you just can't contain the leak. 

 Everything shrinks, your path hits roadblocks,

A darkness spreads, that you typically kept in locks.  

 

It's an effort to choose a track, that will lift your mood,

You can't write, or even read, just quietly lament and brood.

The presence of others mocks you, makes you create instant walls,

You're OK for it to fester, but to nip it you don't have the balls.

 

If I don't put into words daily, by the day end I feel a sense of loss,

Sadness creeps in when I cede control, and make poetry my boss. 

Whereto Next?

A tier II city, cost of living negligible,

Being my hometown, it's automatically eligible,

For a place to settle down, where my ageing parents live,

My son doesn't like it, as it doesn't modern vibes give.  

 

A tier I city, that I've made my Karm Bhoomi,

Spent my adult life here, it means a lot to me.

The weather is nice, the people nicer,

Through the ups and down, I'm all the wiser.

 

An almost metro city, that beckons and calls,

Some call it an urban jungle, creeping with malls.

A melting pot of cultures, an entrepreneurial hub,

Where I'll finally achieve my dreams- join the elite club.

 

Kota, Pune, Bengaluru, the choices are galore,

I choose to stay in India, for abroad there will be lives more.

Whom to Love?

Before helping others, put on your oxygen mask,

Love yourself- or you'll fail, at loving others task.  

Unless you accept perfectly, yourself for who you are,

You'll stare vacantly at nights, not dance with your twin star.

 

That you feel broken inside, bad about yourself,

Is solely your doing, how can you others help,

And derive some satisfaction, from loving someone deep,

If your heart is hardened towards self, how can love for others seep?

 

You're doubly doomed, can't work on your relationship first,

You can't love or be loved, and thus can't satisfy your love thirst.

You're stuck in a paradox, whether chicken came before egg,

Whether self love is a prerequisite, before you can drink from love's keg.

 

Love is mysterious and magical, it finds its own ways,

Open your heart to someone, you need to love first, who says? 

Moving On

Money may be good, but meaning eludes,

As I embark on a new journey, a chapter concludes.

The new job provides purpose, a place to showcase skills,

By endowing work with values, it ennui and alienation kills.

I’ll spend some time, with people who matter,

Work life balance, will be served on a platter.

As I spend more time with family, the bonds will become deep,

I’ll form new memories in new places, for me to forever keep.

Once uprooted, I’ll have to find new anchors,

As I trot on my daily walk, look out for new flankers,

The morning evening bonhomie, and Saturday breakfast,

Have kept me sane in the moment, and made memories that last.

Staying has an advantage, moving on has a downside,

But as the calling is strong, I’ll take all in my stride.

BAGs

Big, audacious goals, they freeze you with fear,

The summit seems distant, the triumph not near.

You may abandon the path, feel depressed or anxious, 

The enormity of task, makes you undisciplined, unconscientious.  

 

Big, audacious goals, they inspire you with their vision, 

You look beyond what's possible, break your self imposed prison.  

When the summit is insurmountable, you sprout some wings, 

The thornier the path, the more it iron feet brings. 

 

Big, audacious goals, they just sit there and mock,

By turns motivating and despairing, they are your Sisyphean rock.

The more you try to avoid them, the larger they loom,

If no one embraces them, we are all destined to doom.   

 

Big, audacious goals, they fill me with gratitude,

That I can make them mine, before you - is the right attitude. 

 

Forsaking

By choosing you, I'm forsaking others,

We'll get joined at the hip, like star crossed lovers.

I don't have all the info, whether you are the right one,

But now that you're my cynosure, others I'll actively shun.

 

When I'm with you it's blasphemy, to think of another,

There's a wide world out there, but I'd think of you rather.

Laser focused, on my current muse,

To me all the sirens, are of little use.

 

My time is limited, I can't be driven by FOMO,

Can't keep calculating and optimizing, to nail the Numero Uno.

Let me be content, with what has fallen my way,

There are choices galore- they'll have to wait another day.

 

There are always more options, you'll be my theme forever who's to say,

There will be room for newer poems, but I've poured my heart in you today!

Finding Meaning

A poet in crystallizing future, a programmer in disappearing past,

At present applying my knowledge, of psychology that's vast,

I may appear disjointed, my pivots my bane,

The flexible narrative arc, keeps me grounded and sane.

 

From being driven to make a career, that was purely psych based, 

To settling on an altruistic goal- that no life be laid waste,

I've come along a long way, now I have a new north star,

I want to write poems of peace, not prevent the third world war.

 

Will the poems I write, make a sore wound heal,

Did I save a few lives, for all my Zero Suicide zeal,

Do I matter to someone,  will this world a better place be,

Can I be the reason for living, will she smile because of me?

 

My story may not be coherent, my purpose may still change,

I might not leave an impact, but this absurd life I'll not exchange!

A Poem a Day

They say you shouldn't mix metaphors, or hobbies with profession,

It's a sorry day when you write to a prompt, rather than from a passion.

What can be fun, or a pent up release, is reduced to a ritualistic abuse, 

You hone your craft, to be a pro, but the beginners innocence you lose.

 

They say to be hailed as a poet, you should be free of livelihood concerns,

The poet is defined by what he writes, not whether from his poem he earns.

To earn your bread as a poet, is a distant moonshot,

To sell your soul, for eyeballs, is on poetry's name a blot.

 

They say posterity is the best judge, your poems will outlive your other works,

While alive, the people may mock you, but after death they'll glorify your quirks. 

Don't let go of your day job yet, you might not sell your masterpiece,

Only one of art or artist can live, the other has to rest in peace.

  

They say constraints help refine the art, I'm boxed, with heavy restraint,

As I can't be a Monet that flourishes in life, let me like Van Gogh paint. 

On Stealing a Glance

I steal a glance, the timer starts, will there be a swift countdown?

It's the anticipation that kills me more, than the looming breakdown.

The interim period of instability, is filled with hints and clues,

That I'll end up losing my mind soon, is no surprise, no news. 

 

The inevitable soon transpired, our paths did converge,

Encountering you after decades, left me at insanity's verge.

Memories came haunting, resurrecting the pain,

I'm shattered, inconsolable, but who's to blame?

  

I restart my quest, this time cautious and sly, 

My antic to catch your glance, make me almost die.

I'll not surrender easily, I'm but born again,

If my madness scares you, I'd rather be sane.

 

I have earned my lunacy the hard way- you were absconding me,

Why bring me to my senses - when you'll never set me free?

Birthday Wishes

50th birthdays are special, an occasion to reflect,

By throwing a grand party, with friends and family connect.

Half the life is over, another half remains,

A life that's filled with purpose, pleasures and pains.

 

Today I have loads of wishes, that I'm sending your way,

That you treat us not at HD, but a better place this day.

I wish for once you'll win a bet, beat at psephology Shuklaji,

And defeat Piyush in our Panchayat, without Ustad and his protege.

 

I wish you keep walking in the mornings, even if its backwards,

That your to and fro keeps happening, for bun muskas or neembu mirchis in turns.

I wish you give more poha parties, and don't ask for saunf in return,

I wish you stay young at heart, and we the mystery of your name plate learn!

 

50th birthdays are special, I wish you joy and fun,

You cruised while walking in the past, but now we'll make sure you run. 

Let The Credits Roll

You've heard the official version, so many times,

Not toeing the party line, seems like an actual crime.

This is how it happened, we were the protagonists, 

His contributions were marginal, the tale is full of twists.

  

He may have pioneered, built the team from scratch,

We blessed it with capital, his sweat equity no match.

We gave shape to the vision, he merely rode along,

He took care of operations, crediting equally oh so wrong.

  

The org is built indeed, from efforts big and small,

He was the driving force, is a claim too big and tall.

The world will keep rolling, is not dependent on one,

We are the real leaders, our stakes second to none.

 

The essence will be lost forever, once he's finally gone,

Maybe the org was finding sustenance, from his spirit alone. 

What Job To Own?

To feel fulfilled in life, what work should I do,

Jobs matching my frequency, are far and few.

What to do if I get stuck, in a job that's crap,

If my career doesn't take off, I'll have to start from scratch.

 

I can frenetically search, refuse to fit in square holes,

What guarantees exist, that I'll be fulfilled in new roles?

I can hold my boss to ransom, thereby craft my job,

Or find meaning in growth, as I resign to a series of hop.

 

I can attune inwards, listen to the bird that sings,

In the cacophony of callings, which one with truth rings.

Once I've made the connection, what makes me come alive,

I'll outgrow the job focus, all would become bearable and fine. 

 

To write a poem daily, is my spiritual quest,

Job is no longer an owner- but merely guest.

The Itch

Just notice what is happening, the itch that is there,

With questions festering around it - 'why me' , 'is it fair'?

The dull throbbing of pain, from a distance observe,

Let it ebb and flow naturally, neither lead nor serve.

 

Be open to what is happening, the desire to scratch,

Just let it linger a moment, for acting fast has a catch.

You may wound yourself, if you scrape premature,

While if you let it ferment, it would disappear for sure 

 

Be intentional to what is happening, you intend to be itch free,  

Not this particular manifestation, but to get rid of all is the key.

Scratch where it matters, pick up your battles and fights, 

Don't let the world dictate, what are your duties and rights,

 

I'm itching to make poetry, my full time vocation,

If I scratch in time, maybe for me still salvation.