Month: March 2022

No.
I’ve never really forgotten
Which sound the Urdu ن depicts.
A ‘tweener by our English tongues.
Not quite an M. Not quite an N.
But somewhere in between of sorts.
Pronounced as noon, it is just that:
A midday salt that flavours words
That sound too bland without the mmnn.

No.
I’ve never really forgotten
Which sound the Urdu ن depicts.
It’s not because of YouTubers
With mnemonics that don’t quite work:
A droplet clinks a glass of wine.
A star chinks off a crescent moon.

No.
I’ve never really forgotten
Which sound the letter ن depicts.
It’s ’cause I’ve seen it all around
Attending all ceremonies
On shoulders of its cousin bros.
It’s quite at home atop the O
In cousin Hindi’s sindoor ॐ
And sandalwood Odia ଓଁ.
It helps you stretch your breath away
Beyond the universe’s end.
Not quite an M. Not quite an N.
But somewhere in between of sorts.
A convergent continuum.

You spend a day with grazing cows,
You learn from them the real stuff.
They do not seek the greenest grass.
They settle for the green enough.

You do not see them run about
As if they have to win a race.
They do not horn the other cows
To drive them off their chosen place.

Contented with their little patch,
They munch without a tantrum thrown.
And, in their way, they thank the earth
By dropping down a settling cone.

Your startup started up with flair
And burned to ground with equal flash
Within a year and seven months
And half a million venture cash.

“So what?” I heard him ask of me.
“It’s normal any given year.
So many come and go like this.”
And isn’t that a cause of fear?

“It’s just the price of forward growth.
This path is paved with many dead.
To push the edge of possible,
We step on them and charge ahead.”

To push the edge of possible?
As if you work for humankind.
As if the “equity” you seek
Is “not a human left behind.”

“Oh, no, no. We don’t make such claims.
It’s just that every VC learns
The things that help the world improve
Are things that bring us best returns.”

And what improvements to the world
Was promised by this firm of yours –
The one which turned to nothingness?
“It changed the way we look at scores.”

A single screen that shows all scores
Of all the sports you love and cheer.
You bet your half a million on
“Improving” what exactly here?

“Imagine all the time you saved.”
As if your app didn’t suck our time.
The only thing it changed for us
Is added one more notif chime.

“You work with VCs, startups, right?”
Unfortunately, that is true.
“So, why this moral lecturing?”
I ask myself that question too.

I’ve nothing meaningful to show
For all my claimed “experience.”
The landscape changes everyday,
I lose that day in making sense
Of what I knew with what is new
And what’s my latest point of view.
In all of this, I question me,
“Now, where’s that cocky confidence?”

This isn’t working. Not at all.
I’m tired by the afternoon.
I use up all my writing juice
In morning meetings with my muse,
Who’s helping me with novel drafts
Which end up going nowhere soon.

The coffee keeps the sleep away
At least for hours I need to write,
Beyond the hours I need to work
On projects I’d would never take
Except for emergency’s sake
Which keeps me up throughout the night.

The more I write, the less I’m sure
If there is any point at all.
I’m hoarding all these empty rhymes
Instead of staying with the times,
And making things that market well,
Like spammy apps that robocall.

They promised all a magic trick.
They put some pebbles on the ground,
Proclaimed the heap will always grow,
So long as you leave fifteen hours
Between your visits to this place.
And if you add a pebble now
You’ll get a chance when you return
To claim as many pebbles as
The heap has gained in unit height.
The people laughed and walked away
But there were those who dared to try.
They pulled a pebble from their belt
And placed it on the paltry heap,
Resigned to losing it for sure.
But every fifteen hours or so,
They came and saw the heap had grown.
The others saw the magic too
And rushed to add their pebbles too.
And there were those who opened shop
To bring and add your pebbles here
Without you bothering a bit.
And as the magic took its hold,
The smart and fearful grabbed their due,
While others, greedy, heaped ’em on
In hopes of gaining even more
And even more and even more,
Until the day the towering heap
Came crashing down in muddy streams.
The rain had washed the very ground
Upon which stood their lofty dreams.

The afternoons are getting longer.
The garbage smells of mango peel.
The boils in my hairy corners
Are softening, about to leak.

I get no sympathy from clouds,
Which come but do not rain a drop.
My solace is the scratchy “aahh”
I steal when no one’s at my shop.

I’m setting sleep aside in bags
Of darkened folded facial skin.
I plan to use these savings soon,
As soon as I can claim a win
Against alarms throughout my day
That tend to drive my patience thin.

O Energy, O Randomness,
Eternal Force of Human Faith,
Do help me find the courage to:
Arrest my wrathful inner wraith;
Accept my pain without complaint;
Advance my walk without the crutch;
Enjoy my joys without the guilt;
Extend my hand without the grudge.

It starts with blurry-eyed-ness,
A gradual whitening of view,
A reeling in the ear canal,
A feeling in the upper chest,
A grip over your barren throat,
A dip under your usual low.
An all-is-lost-or-’bout-to-go.
An all-is-pointless-anyway.
You pinch your thighs,
You punch your palms,
You bite into your lower arms
You hold on to inflicted pain –
Your lifebuoy in the mental storm,
Awaiting waves to rise and roll,
A weight impressed upon your soul.