Tag: favourites

What a poet wants

Now that’s a question worth answering. That’s a question that keeps many a poetry fanatic up all night. I don’t mean to exaggerate, but nevertheless, a poet’s internal conflict gives birth to such pristine work that it’s well worth a trip down to a poet’s thought lane to figure that out.

Well, one poet made it so much easier by writing it down. I came across a poem titled Ars Poetica by Dorothea Lasky. When I saw the title, I rolled my eyes, skeptical. Great, another poet who uses fancy foreign language to convey her meaning. Although I appreciate quirkiness in poetry, I only do so for as long as I understand it. This one, I didn’t. When I searched online, however, I realised that the phrase refers to an ancient treatise on poetry written by Horace. The phrase itself means “The art of poetry” or “On the art of poetry”. That was more than enough to intrigue me. And so I set out to read the poem,

It bagan so,

“I wanted to tell the veterinary assistant about the cat video Jason sent me”

Ok, my mind paused, frowning. For a poem following the old tradition of using Latin terms, that was an unconventional opening line. But it is also an interesting line, because it introduces so many people in so few words. My mind landed on the veterinary assistant who seemed out of place in the world of the poet, Jason, and the cat video. A therapist would’ve been more appropriate, I observed lingering on that first line.

I read further.

“But I resisted for fear she’d think it strange”

Yeah! I raised my eyebrows in agreement.

“I am very lonely”

Oh. I saw now. That made sense to an extent. The cat, the vet, the fear of being ridiculed—they were all justified now.

The poem doesn’t end there, as Lasky goes on to explain more about her life. But those three lines had told me so much more than I had hoped to learn in the first few lines of a poem that stretched for 30 lines.

In the next few lines, the poet describes a telephone call she received from her boyfriend. Yet another character.

And told me that I was no good
Well maybe he didn’t mean that
But that is what I heard
When he told me my life was not worthwhile
And my life’s work the work of the elite.

Ouch. We’ve all been there. While we’re already basking in self-doubt and discomfort of ourselves, someone plucks up the courage to tell it to our face. I could now relate to this poet whose topic of conversation I still wasn’t sure about. But I read on, because from what I’ve read so far, she sounds a lot like me, and I wanted to know how she’d reply to her boyfriend and carry the poem to its conclusion.

Then she talks about what matters the most to her. She accepts to herself what she is, and what she wants from her life.

I say I want to save the world but really
I want to write poems all day

Aha, I thought smiling in victory. So, this is nothing but a poet who wants to write poetry for the rest of her life. Now that’s not much to ask.

Or so I miscalculated.

It’s a simple desire. It’s the basic right of any individual to spend their life doing what they yearn for. Regardless, it’s also the most unattainable thing in life: Doing what you love, and doing it long enough without hating yourself or dying of starvation.

This poem is a bundle of mixed emotions and harsh realities. For me, it portrayed the life of every artist who pines to create art. It reflects undeniable truth that makes you smile in sadness as you finish reading the poem.

Here it is in its entirety, if you’re interested:

Ars Poetica — by Dorothea Lasky

I wanted to tell the veterinary assistant about the cat video Jason sent me
But I resisted for fear she’d think it strange
I am very lonely
Yesterday my boyfriend called me, drunk again
And interspersed between ringing tears and clinginess
He screamed at me with a kind of bitterness
No other human had before to my ears
And told me that I was no good
Well maybe he didn’t mean that
But that is what I heard
When he told me my life was not worthwhile
And my life’s work the work of the elite.
I say I want to save the world but really
I want to write poems all day
I want to rise, write poems, go to sleep,
Write poems in my sleep
Make my dreams poems
Make my body a poem with beautiful clothes
I want my face to be a poem
I have just learned how to apply
Eyeliner to the corners of my eyes to make them appear wide
There is a romantic abandon in me always
I want to feel the dread for others
I can feel it through song
Only through song am I able to sum up so many words into a few
Like when he said I am no good
I am no good
Goodness is not the point anymore
Holding on to things
Now that’s the point

Oh, those walls

Buildings are beautiful. Despite the negativity around schools, places of worship, or even court houses, the structure of some of those buildings is fascinating. And the reason is because what’s on the outside is far more interesting than what’s inside. One such building I came across during my visit to Kerala is this information centre in a national park. The inside of it was hollow, without much of the information it promised to contain. Nevertheless, the outside had a variety of textures to enjoy.

information centre

A letter

Dear Sir,

I’m writing to express my disagreement with your idea of entertainment. I am, of course, referring to a number of programmes telecast in your channel.

First, let’s talk about the reality show you call, Real People, Real Lives. For one, I don’t think there’s anything real about paying celebrities to pretend to live together for a month, and appointing a mediator to solve petty disagreements between them. After all, these celebrities have no reason to live together—except perhaps for the money you pay them, and for the controversial paparazzi that ensues. If you and your children spend your evenings watching this show, I’m sorry, but you all need to get a life.

Second, I came across a programme that your channel’s hosts dub as Share your Feelings. Now, I may have to agree that sharing emotions and deep feelings may have a positive effect on the person doing the sharing. Having said that, however, I do not agree that sharing on national television, a story about how I let my boyfriend down by lying to him, is not a decent way of expressing my feelings. And I don’t think that you or your channel’s hosts should encourage such behaviour, and play irrelevant songs to trigger even more emotional callers. Callers might get some solace — sad though it is — but for a young family watching the show at home over dinner, it’s nothing more than a mindless way to spend the evening.

Now I understand that your choice of programmes doesn’t depend on what your audience wants to or needs to watch. Instead, it depends on what will get them excited to keep on watching. It doesn’t take a master’s degree in Psychology to decode your algorithm: You just give people sensational issues so that they get used to it and keep coming back for more. It’s not unlike training a dog by giving it chocolate treats that you know would only harm it. It’s simple logic, yet a powerful influence.

And that’s the reason I ask—implore(well… no)—you to reconsider your offering. Not only are your shows mind-numbing and disgust-inducing, but they are also a spark of painful-disagreement between husbands and wives all over the country. Well, yes, I haven’t spoken to my wife in a few days, and that’s perhaps why I decided to write to you in the first place, but nevertheless, it’s time for you and your channel’s administrators to call that long over-due meeting and reassess your goals for the new year.

With that I conclude this letter. And although I’m certain—beyond belief—that you would never acknowledge reading this letter, or even the existence of it, I would still like to tell you that your feature programme titled News Around the World in 60 Seconds is the best of all in your agenda.

I don’t look forward to hearing from you,

Not a fan,

n

That’s my spot

A little clichéd though it is, reading—and reading in a good spot—satisfies me any day. I’ve always yearned for a comfortable couch to envelope me as I nestled in it reading through the night. Although that remained wishful thinking for long, it became a reality on a recent trip. My hotel room had this chair which despite its plain and hard appearance, turned out so much snugglier than it looked. After a tiring day and a hearty dinner, I curled up in it reading a wonderful book. I fell asleep unbeknownst to myself—and it was the best nap I’ve ever had.

my spot

Let’s go a trippin’

For a while now, I’ve been planning a trip. It’s for work so I already have my destination defined for me. That’s not bad, I now realise. In fact, that could be the best thing about the trip itself, because everything else is taking up so much of my energy and time. Boy, I’m glad I didn’t have to pinpoint the destination as well.

Let me backtrack a little and explain. I’m off on a business trip in August and I’ve been working my way all through July preparing myself. It’s kind of a big deal so I have to make sure that business during the trip goes well. Apart from that, I’ve been figuring out how best to enjoy myself during the trip. This one’s longer than all my previous business trips, so I’ll have some leisure to wander around.

Great, I thought. “I’m going to have so much fun.”

Except, planning for the fun part is far more hectic that I expected. I always imagined that when I had to plan a trip like this, I’d just throw some clothes in a backpack and go. That’s what I always told myself: Just go. But now that such a situation is upon me, I realise I can’t just go. I have to think about flights, layovers, immigration, baggage clearance—even water could become an issue. Phew. And if that weren’t enough, there’s the budget.

When I estimated my budget almost a month and a half ago, I had everything laid out in a TextEdit file. The numbers seemed clear, the dates, the time—I had even thought of the cost of food in flights. But then I delayed booking the flights, because I got busy at work. And when I opened the TextEdit file a couple of weeks later, everything seemed irrelevant to current prices. My flight rates has increased by $10. Sure, it didn’t seem like much, but when I saw that I could’ve spent that on a meal, instead, I understood how much of a role time plays in travel—even though time and travel don’t compound in reality.

Doubt creeped in next. Am I perhaps allocating too much from my pocket for a mere bicycle tour? The first time I looked at the tour, it looked wonderful: Good location, great views, and promising reviews. It would be such a great use of my time and money, I thought. My reasoning was sensible, too: I’d see so much of the city, enjoy some great food, meet a bunch of folks, and have a lot of fun—all in one glorious morning. Last night, however, my reasoning started to dwindle. Perhaps it’s better to just walk around the city by myself, I thought half awake. Again, the reason is that I didn’t book the tour right away, waiting two weeks instead. Again, putting too much time between desire and achievement waned my desire.

These are the big stuff. The little stuff should be easy. Or so I thought. But once I mapped out my itinerary, there were no small stuff. Even a commute from the airport to the hotel is a big decision. I can pick between the shortest route and the scenic route. I’d go scenic for sure if I’m alone—but I won’t be alone. Taking the scenic route would mean traversing for an extra 20 minutes at a good time and 45 minutes during traffic. We’d land late in the evening, so traffic is granted.

I’m torn between decisions. I still have a lot to do. Although I have to admit: even though planning for this trip has me pulling out my hair, I’m having one hell of a time figuring it all out. It’s my first experience making all my arrangements myself, and it’s made me a proper grown up. I feel mature. I now know I can take care of myself. I’ve always known I could, but this trip’s given me a chance to prove it—to myself.