An Indian Poet’s Travails
Like every young Indian schoolboy, my memory’s introduction to poetry begins with ‘Where The Mind is Without Fear’. Being both inspired and made curious by it, I moved on as did the syllabus of my class’s studies. My teenage years were punctuated by a couple of poems I wrote for my then love interests, two teenage girls who were equally moved by the gesture, but which were nothing to write home about, even though the action came to define me for a period of time after. The introduction of the computer in my life altered my brain and captivated me deeply, overpowering me enough to choose a career associated with its technicality. It wasn’t until the third girl I had written poetry for broke my heart that I, as anybody does, came to question my existence. And with it, I was introduced (by my mother) to The Bhagavad Gita as a means of finding an answer. Being an Indo-Anglian, and in California at the time, I read Eknath Easwaran’s version. I took to blogging again, with my self-claimed free verse of embarrassing emotion. The Gita had moved me so deeply, that combined with the loneliness and stress at the time, I encountered my first psychotic episode – that I shall now call ‘Alone in America with The Gods’.
The psychosis continued untreated for a while, before I returned to India, eventually being diagnosed as Bipolar. Through all this, the only thing I did, and could see myself doing, was continuing to write those amateur poems in notebooks, note taking apps, on blogs and social media, filling my device’s memory with all it can hold. Having now collected a litany of such verse, I am at a crossroads again, alone and disillusioned with love. My affection for the English language, combined with respect for Vedic prosody, is now slowly becoming the front and centre of my life. Though still technically a techie, and barely cutting it as a Project Manager, I am beginning to find the passion that was missing so far, in expressing myself through the written word.
But as I begin to learn about the style and use of poetry, I want my expression to grow with my soul. Not just as self-reflection, but as the mirror that poets use to show its audience a world within and without, for not just selfish personal gain but also selflessly letting go of the pain that has defined so much of my personal poetry. For now, it’s a journey I’m taking the first step of, hopefully leading to something bigger than myself and the little worlds we inhabit. The drama of it all, culminating in what I dream of – a published work of my own making.
When I turned 30, I took it on as a milestone year and made a big career change. I moved from IT to the social sector, with the aim of wanting to help people and making a difference in the world and people’s lives. Having been outdone by children of the ages of 6 and 7, I returned battered and bruised to the safe space of IT again with the realization that even in my job I was helping people, only in different contexts. But with the constant stress, disappointment, and irritation, I can only go so far as here and now. I want to quit again, start all over, do something I love (and get paid for it), but I know this is not immediately possible. Until my bread and butter is made through IT, and I have financial responsibilities to take care of, I need to sustain myself emotionally with writing as a hobby! There will come a day, when I won’t need a job and I can be my own boss, that day will be the first of the rest of my life. And I won’t look back, just down into my notes.
I am now an almost divorced 37-year-old male, living with my parents, having moved from Mumbai to Pune, wanting to make it in the world of words. My only claims to fame being, having scored in the 99th percentile in the GRE (particularly 790/800 in Verbal), and a few schooltime awards from Australia’s ETC for placing in the 90th percentile across South Asia in the English Language exams, also being quoted by a campus publication for what I wrote to the organisers after a hiking trip. Here I am, ready to take the plunge, with caution and commitment to my well-being.
Bless me O Lord, as I lay at your feet, seeking to drink from the fountain of knowledge, for peace and serenity, to help those in the dark see light and be filled by senses of joy, ecstasy, and the longing of finding that climax that leads to you.
Though this has happened repetitively in my life, where I think I have found the love of my life, get obsessed with a lit spark of fancy, that quickly fizzles out ending with boredom and the ever-present depression. I feel like, without knowing it, writing has been my oldest partner, and it’s now time to acknowledge it. Filled with these hopes and dreams, I am spending this late Sunday night into the wee hours of Monday, only to be awoken by the monotony of my 9-to-5 in some time from now. Back to anxiety, I must go with dread, and get out of bed. Until then, this manifesto will get clearer and more definite in serving as my guide in the as-yet unpublished collection of poems, ‘Taking Shape’.
There will be one poem for each week of the year. Beginning with themes like ‘self’ that would include poetry about my father, my mother and my sister, that have been the steadfast rocks of my life. And moving on to ‘emotions’ like love, sadness, and freedom from it all. There could be thoughts on India – history, geography, the future, and current events. Themes will develop over time.
I had purchased the domain, manifesto4world.com not knowing I would publish poetry to it, much less write an actual manifesto taking inspiration from its name and titling it, ‘A Manifesto for the World’. This will be my poetry manifesto. An Indian poet’s manifesto. If it resonates, become a reader, if it doesn’t, become a critic.
At the end of the day, what will matter is that I tried, I experimented, made a go of it, gave my hopes, dreams, ambitions and myself, shape.