The Need To Know Your “Why” as a Poet To Do What You Do

Reflections & convictions from a Mathematician-turned-Poetpreneur

A click from Author's first spoken word performance at Gyan Adab, Pune.
Author’s first spoken word poetry performance at Gyan Adab, Pune.

One needs a stronger sense of purpose to pursue their passion and live life on their own terms. And I wanted to find the purpose of poetry when I had this idea of becoming a Poetpreneur.

Poetry, as I believe, is the art of stringing words in the best order to say a story, to evoke an emotion to make one feel a particular way, intently and intensely. But how far can poetry go to change the world?

Can poetry calm the chaos, bring a battle to halt, comfort a desperate soul, bring in hope to hold on to life, earn love, make feel loved or say, pay your bill? The questions can be endless but finding answers for at least a few was vital for me to pursue my passion as a career.

Finding poetry in rhymes & chants

As someone lured to words, the sounds it evoked, the unseen rhythm & harmony it brought along, poetry had always been a part of my life. Be it in the nursery rhymes sung by Preeti Sagar, or in the rhythm from the stressed & unstressed syllables while chanting shlokas or in the beats of an unworded song of silence that I feel inside of me all the time, poetry has always had me enraptured.

There was always a kind of urge to pen down feelings and find ways to encapsulate even the everyday incidents in something extraordinary. And I did it in verses. Believe me or not, when I started out I was mad enough to capture even mosquitoes and cockroaches in creative imaginations just for fun. And of course, nature was my first love, thanks to my alma mater, Madras Christian College, know for its scrub jungle.

What started just as a passion, a way of expression soon turned out to be the compass of my life. Consciously or unconsciously I was seeking poetry to understand the complexities of life and trust me, poetry has led me to better places.

Gitanjali-Biggest influence on my poetry (and life) journey

Rabindranath Tagore’s Gitanjali is one of the biggest influences on my poetry (and life) journey and honestly, I don’t remember how I landed up with this book. But one thing that I clearly remember is that the very first poem in it had me in tears. Here is that piece:

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure,
This is my prayer to thee, my Lord-strike,
strike at the root of penury in my heart,
Clouds heap upon clouds and it darkens

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure
Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure.
This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again,
and fillest it ever with fresh life.

This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales,
and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands
my little heart loses its limits in joy
and gives birth to utterance ineffable.

Thy infinite gifts come to me
only on these very small hands of mine.
Ages pass, and still thou pourest,
and still there is room to fill.
— Tagore

More interestingly, I couldn’t move on to the rest of the poems and I didn’t force myself to do so too. I sat with the poem.  Some poems come to you to prepare you for an intense experience while some others come in as an assurance that your path is headed the right way. Gitanjali has poems that make me feel both ways.


You may read the review of Gitanjali in the post below.


Poetry & its various perspectives

That cannot-be-worded, cannot-be-explained, cannot-be-seen kind of intense and intimate feeling that poetry brings along is what makes me want to read, write and gift poetry. There’s a magic in the kind of mysticism that every poem holds. It can shed light on different perspectives and an honest poem also holds the potential to even make you a different person in a single verse.

For example, the following lines,

“For men may come and men may go,

But I go on for ever.”

from the poem The Brook, by Alfred Lord Tennyson, has grown upon me with its ability to bring our various perspectives as follows:

In my schooling years, upon my first read, I took upon to its literal meaning like even if we human beings visit the Brook or not, it is going to keep flowing. I must say, at that time, I was lured to the music of the poem, the rhyme and rhythm that I didn’t look beyond this perspective.

When I was in college, I got to a place where the repetition of the line would give me an assurance that in spite of broken relationships, I can still go on with life. The line came as a comfort for my bruised heart and made me take it all lightly and move forward.

In my early twenties, the profoundness of the line left me awestruck. It’s only then I got the metaphorical meaning of the eternal existence of nature as against the impermanence of human lives.

And as I write this, there is a new perspective coming along. What if the “I” in the line is a symbolism of our soul? Doesn’t it make more sense? Our bodies (symbolized as men, here) will perish but the soul, the vital force of our existence, is for eternity. Wow! Poetry never fails to amaze me.

But wait, can amazement alone bring about a change?

I bet, it does. A single poem or even better, a single powerful verse is like a viable seed that can grow upon you in years, bearing the fruits of change rooted in profound perspectives. That is poetry for you.

Key takeaways

  1. Poetry can change the world, one person at a time (in case of page poetry) or one gathering at a time (in case of spoken word poetry).
  2. It helps shed many inhibitions, get clarity and also think laterally.
  3. Poetry holds the potential to bring in peace or start a protest; better handled with care!
  4. With its ability to hold different perspectives it only gets better with time.
  5. Poetry helps in appreciating the world around and the inside of us with much more intimacy.
  6. And if you ask me if it can help paying your bills, well, with technology at hand, it certainly can help earn a decent income. This endeavor, Promising Poetry, is an example (more on that in upcoming posts). A glimpse of how I do this is here.

Well, if you want to know what a promising poetry has to say, then read this.

May poetry find its way to the doors or atleast windows of your heart.

This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon. The prompt “What if the world didn’t have art (poetry, here)”, made me take this perspective.

5390cookie-checkThe Need To Know Your “Why” as a Poet To Do What You Do

Who am I?

I thought poetry was complex until I started to try understanding and identifying myself. Who am I? Do I know myself completely? I don’t think so but I’m sure I’m at least at it, trying to know. And I understand it’s ever-evolving. So here is my reflection poetry on my identity.

My first try with oil painting!

I was born in Chennai. Spent the first 6 years in Orissa. Shifted to Chennai again-childhood, teenage & higher education happened here. Marriage happened & moved to Pune. Life happened. The change took over. Here in Bangalore for the past 3 years. Am I a wanderlust? I says, neti neti.

I nest in numbers. Topology interests me. Taylor’s series terrifies me and yet I teach both. Math amuses me. Fractals find my friendship. Am I a mathematician? I says, neti neti.

I cook meals. Budget buys. Parlour papaya-peels pack. Dust doors. Scrub sinks. Wash whites & clothes colored. Am I a homemaker? I says, neti neti.

I help with homework. Tailor her timetable. Take to skates. Say stories. Share secrets. Play puddles. Dress dolls. Dream days. Nestle nights. Hug & hear. Kiss & care. Am I a mother? I says, neti neti.

I grow greens. Climbers. Creepers. Cultivate. Prune. Protect. I compost. Maintain maggots & enrich earthworms. Creepy crawlies come and go. I care for caterpillars. Behold butterflies. Water or wait for rain. Weed. Watch wandering jew grow. Am I a gardener? I says, neti neti.

I bleed. Bruises border. Platelets plummet. Purpura paints. Identify ITP. Fight fatigue. Survive steroids. Track tiredness. Deny death. Am I a warrior? I says, neti neti.

I pen poetries. Read rhapsodies. See similes. Mean metaphors. Pursue passion. Reveal reflections. Am I a poet? I says, neti neti.

I weave words. Personalize poetries. Bridge bonding. Exhibit empathy. Engineer expressions. Craft craziness. Customize cards. Sell stanzas. Experiment. Earn. Am I an entrepreneur? I says, neti neti. I says, neti neti.         

I says, neti neti.           

Who is I then?                            

A human being?        

A being?        

being?    

b-e-i-n-g

be-i

i.

P.S. The phrase neti neti (नेति नेति) is a Sanskrit expression which means ‘not this, not that’ and has its roots in the Vedic Upanishads.

                                                                                                                                                                

2800cookie-checkWho am I?

Promising Poetry

What if promising poetry had a voice and spoke to you?

Have you ever wondered what does poetry mean? What makes for promising poetry? Does poetry have a song of its own to sing? A story of its own to stay?

Well, we have all grown up reciting rhymes, chanting shlokas, singing prayers, listening to songs and experimenting with our own verses, and maybe part of education or as part of our faith or simply to have fun. But least did we know that we were all experiencing, appreciating and learning poetry in its various forms since our formative years. Poetry has been a part of our lives in some way or the other though it might be only a few who consciously seek solace in poetry and appreciate it. So, what makes a piece of writing poetry? Is it the rhyme or rhythm? The brevity or the allegory? Is it music or mysticism? What makes a piece of writing poetry? Can poetry even be defined precisely?

Fluidity of poetry

Well, poetry is the fluidity with solid substance to it. Honest poetry flows even while its essence stays forever. Poetry can mean protest and peace at the same time. Like energy, poetry can neither be created nor destroyed. Poetry just happens. The truth that it carries, the emotions it holds happen as revelations in every poet’s first drafts. The poet is just a medium, a mere tool allowing the revelation to see the light of this world. And that first draft, with all its nakedness and vulnerability, is the essence of the poem. THAT IS POETRY. The rest of the editing and polishing is mere crafting.

Crafting Poetry?

I’m sure the poet in you will agree to call the first draft sacred and hold close the time and moment the revelations happen. But does that mean editing will make the piece any less of poetry? Definitely not. It just makes the truth more presentable, even if it’s as hard as hitting a nail on the head. In fact, poetry is a beautiful way of holding the truth in its various manifestations from time to time, be it in its allegories or metaphors. This mysticism and revelations that poetry has always had made me seek poetry in the first place.

A seeking, a solace

Promising Poetry is an attempt at appreciating various aspects of poetry and a place to let my poetic expressions live and thrive. Poetry for me is a seeking and solace. Here is one such poem, ‘The Song of a Promising Poetry’, that happened as a revelation and comes here with the least editing. What if poetry has a voice? What is it that it wants to tell you? I hope this poem talks to you as much as it spoke to me. Maybe it gets to say a totally different story when you read and it’s ok too, for that is what poetry is meant to be. Feel free to interpret in your own way. I hope you enjoy reading it and hearing what it has to say to you, secretly.

The Song Of A Promising Poetry

 i’m the mistaken music
 of your first cry—
 miracle they say
 but i am the sleep
 that you just woke up from
 with a cry—
  an interlude 
 echoing cacophony
  
 i'm the silence of the soul
 the melody 
 the melancholy
 the mysticism 
 the marvel
  
 i’m no miracle
 my Master is.
  
 i’m the sleep
 that you lost
 in the clamor of conviction
 ugly glamour 
 that can’t conceal
 dark circles of ignorance
  
 i’m the voice of voiceless
 parched throat 
 draining dilemma
 drowning dream
 deserted death
 i’m the harbinger of hope
  
 i’m the symphony of syllables
 stringed in silence—
 a gut’s guide
 a survivor’s scream
 the triumphant truth—
 a spandex stitched
 of spontaneity
 taking the shape of your soul
 like amoeba—
 a single entity
  
   i’m my Master’s make
 His ego & slave
 symbol of surrender
 i’m the source & sink
 of fountaining freedom
 fierce
 faceless
 frameless
  unfathomable faith
 faint hearted—
 fade away
  
   

P.S. Meanwhile, I can help you in communicating your emotions in poetic expressions, effortlessly. Just in case if you want your expressions to find a poetic reveal, be it as a gift for yourself or your loved ones, do check out here for customised poetry gifting options.

2180cookie-checkPromising Poetry

If Only You Wake Up To Become the Sunlight

Copyright @Author
 Accept it!
 it’s in your
 every night dreams
 revealing romanticisms
 lustful longings
 hushed hopes
 to wake up with her
 every dawn,
 & by the day
 as she comes to you,
 you look upon her
 like a mistress 
 walking down in wild nakedness 
 heralding a reveal
 of your deepest secrets
 and you,
 you stand puzzled
 in denial…
 in denial of 
 her power
 her intensity
 her valiance
 her grandeur
 her eternity
 you stand puzzled
 in denial 
 cursing your zipped lips
 & locked desires 
 calling it all barmecidal,
 deceiving the damsel
 as a damage to your dignity
 as you see through 
 the filtered screen 
 of egoism
 of eroticism
 of chauvinism
 missing out on all the essence
 worth the eternity…
 dear man,
 you belittle yourself
 caught in the maze 
 of a mocking illusion
 but
 dear man,
 as she walks away tonight
 her profound gaze
 promises you of a reveal-
 the triumphant truth 
 tomorrow
 if only,
 if only you wake up to
 become the sunlight…
2110cookie-checkIf Only You Wake Up To Become the Sunlight

தீராத தாகம்

© Promising Poetry

தீராத தாகம்
அதன் தாக்கம் தன்னை
தூக்கம் மீது தெளித்து
துன்புறுத்த
நித்தமும் நித்திரை
நிந்தனைக்கு உள்ளானது
ஆம்
தீராத தாகம்….
இதுவும் ஒரு வித போதையே
காதல் கண்ட கண்கள்
நேசம் கொண்ட நெஞ்சம்
மோகம் கொண்ட தேகம்
என இவை அனைத்தையும்
தூக்கி எரிந்து விட்டு
தீராத தாகத்துடன்
நித்தமும்
நித்திரையின்றி
நீரில்லா நதியில்
நீந்த துடித்து
ஏங்கி தவிக்கும்
போதை இது….

மானிடா!
தெரிந்துகொள்…
உன் பள்ளி பருவம்
என்னுள்ளும் படர்ந்ததுண்டு…
உன் தாய் மடி ஏக்கம்
என் நாடிகளிலும்  கலந்ததுண்டு
உன் பருவக் காதல்
என் நெஞ்சிலும் மலர்ந்ததுண்டு…
உன் நடுநிசி சோகம்
என் தலையணையையும் நனைத்ததுண்டு…
உன் பஞ்சத்தின் போராட்டம்
என் வயிற்றையும் வாட்டியதுண்டு
உன் வாழ்வின் நிதர்சனம்
என் வாழ்விலும் வகுத்ததுண்டு…
புரிந்துக்கொள்…
உன் வாழ்வின் நிதர்சனங்கள்
அத்தனையும்
என் வாழ்விலும் வகுத்ததுண்டு…
பின் ஏனடா
இவள் எழுதுகோல் பிடிக்கையில்
“இவள்”
எழுதுகோல் பிடிக்கையில் மட்டும்
இவளின்
காதல் வர்ணனைகளையும்
பஞ்சத்தின் பாடல்களையும்
காமத்தின் கற்பனைகளையும்
பாசத்தின் பிரதிபலிப்புகளையும்
ஒரு எழுத்தாளரின் சுதந்திரம்
சுடர்விடுவதாய் காணாமல்
ஒரு பெண்ணாகவோ , மனைவியாகவோ,
மருமகளாகவோ, மாமியாராகவோ
அவளை மனதில் கொண்டு
அவள் எழுத்துகளை
அவள் வாழ்வோடு ஒப்பனையிட்டு
அதன் பிரதிபலிப்பேன
விமர்சனம் கொண்டு
அவள் வார்த்தைகளுக்கு
அங்கேயே முட்டுக்கட்டுகிறாய்?

மானிடா…
புரிந்துக்கொள்…
உன் வாழ்வின் நிதர்சனங்கள்
அத்தனையும்
என் வாழ்விலும் வகுத்ததுண்டு…
ஆனால் உன்னில் இல்லா
வார்த்தைகளின் மோகமும்
வர்ணனைகளின் தாகமும் 
என்னுள் நான்
கண்டதுண்டு….
தீராத தாகம் இது…
ஆம்…
தீராத தாகம் இது…
ஒரு பெண், மனைவி,
தாய் , மருமகள் ,
ஆசிரியை என
அத்தனையும் மறந்து
வாழ்வின் நிதர்சனங்களை
வர்ணனைகளால் செதுக்கும்
வார்த்தைகளின் சிர்ப்பியாய்,
ஒரு எழுத்தாளராய்
ஒரு எழுத்தாளராய் மட்டுமே
என்னையும்
என் வார்த்தைகளையும்
இந்த உலகம் அறியுமானால்….
இந்த தாகம்…
தீராத இந்த தாகமும்
தீர்ந்தப்பின் துயில் கொள்ளும்
திருப்தியாய்!!

P.S: This poem was featured in Women’s Web .



2050cookie-checkதீராத தாகம்