Thanks (you know who you are)

Organisations are made of people, when you leave one, do you sever ties?

Or are your connections deep and enduring, and can withstand formal byes?

Do you thank the ones who are present, or the ones who helped you in the past?

Or you thank the ones who have yet to join, and will make your legacy last.

For an organisation is more than people, it's a vision, a mission, a soul,

Folks may leave and join in hordes, but it's driven by a singular goal.

When you leave one, are you selling out, or is it the need of the hour,

Can you carry forward the mission anew, or will it the old relations sour?

Old ground has to make way, for new structures to emerge,

I'm thankful for the foundations, as I'm on new beginnings verge.

I learnt a lot, could make an impact, while having fun at PeakMind,

With a team hand-picked, stellar in skills, importantly, virtuous, and kind.

With deep respect and humility, I thank all with whom I worked, 

Just pray for the success, and the soul, of the new org I give birth.

Confronting the Beach

Shifting sands as the wave recedes, a sharp onslaught when it's at its prime,

If you instead prefer solid ground, sitting near a shore is a serious crime.

At sunrise, the tide is still low and mild, as night falls, it's infuriatingly wild,

If you chicken out at the first brush with sea, how will you soak in the sunset, my child?

You took an arduous journey to get here, and now you're approaching the beach,

The mistrust of the sea and its warmth, keeps fun moments from out of your reach.

You need to seize the day, just wade ahead, dip your feet, let the water be cold. 

With friends by your side, play beach volleyball, be adventurous, and bold.

Some kids make gharondas on the beach, makes you smile at their innocent feat,

Oblivious to the fact that they'll be washed by the tide, or trampled by some feet.

Still, they persist, carve elaborate dreams, in hopes you and I will be game,

And be grateful it lasted, for however small a time, they are not after money or fame.

The beach is not for the faint of heart, nor for those who are dead inside,

You'll be swamped off your feet, in more ways than one, so learn to take it in its stride.

The Apprentice

If you want to be a decent blacksmith, apprentice with one first,

You may have all the raw power, the hunger, the thirst.

But you will still need to humbly learn, the tricks of the trade,

Nobody without a Guru, becomes overnight great.

Learn from the Master, by hook or by crook,

If you can't afford him, watch his videos, read his book.

The feedback may be missing, but it's better than none,

Just follow his instructions, like Eklavya for one.

You'll become the greatest archer; beware your Guru is made of stone,

Before you hit the moving targets, remember for this sin you'll have to atone.

You may silence the barking dogs, with a single quick sleight of hand,

But as you master the craft, sans the cost, do you wonder how it'll end?

I've been written off through the centuries; this time I'm not giving up my thumb,

To pay forward is my only debt, that I'll give any other Dakshina, I'm not that dumb.

The Uncertainty Principle

That I had failed in the past is certain, or is it really so,

If that door wasn't jammed tight, could I have chanced upon this door?

Do I get defined by that moment, or what unfolded afterwards,

Are victory and defeat engraved, or merely pretentious words?

That I'll succeed in the future is doubtful, I know for a fact I'll fail,

If I keep repeating the crime, how long can I remain on bail?

Do I get defined by the sentence, or the grace I show in jail,

Do I keep pushing the boulder uphill, though no one will sing my tale?

That I'm failing in the present is unclear; it depends on whether I can get through,

If I can paint what might have happened, what will happen, and what's currently true.

Do I get defined by these 14 lines, or can you beneath my facade see,

Whether I'm in flow and enjoying this connection, or struggling to break free.

 

When I write a poem, I'm simultaneously alive and dead,

Don't know if I've failed again, till I am by you, my reader, read.

Stepping Up

Sick and tired, of the peripheral view,

I'd like to be center, who fathomed, who knew.

Enough of vacillation, it's time to take charge,

While wise men hedge, let me be a fool and barge.

The Everestian goal, by its existence mocks,

To reach the summit, first conquer the small rocks.

I will get tired midway, will have to beat a retreat,

With another failure in my cap, how will you me treat?

Will you applaud the courage, that I took the plunge,

Or crown me as a Bozo, and from all sides lunge.

Will you ignore my adventure, the most painful of fate,

And routinely mumble, 'Better luck next time, mate'.

For I'll fail, and try, and will fail yet again,

This goal is too lofty, to be left for someone sane.

Being Abnormal

Music plays, just for me,

Dancing like, there's no end to see.

People watch, bewildered, amused,

Labels like crazy, and madman used.

Fire burns, deep inside,

Passion, purpose, take me for a ride.

If I'm not reduced to ashes yet,

I've failed my duty, lost my bet.

As I hear the music, I need to dance,

Have to stoke the fire- can't leave to chance.

Maybe I'm a phoenix, maybe I'll die,

Maybe I'll resurrect, don't know, won't lie.

I won't check your boxes, just let me be,

Don't shackle me with normal, I was born free.