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My 2yrs 8 months old daughter Shreya has just recovered from a bout of viral fever and the attack

has
made her a bit cranky. She has been behaving quite unlike herself-a thing quite common for children after
recovering from an illness. So I bunked college to spend some time with her to ensure that she feels
better. Thank God I can afford to do that because I am not into any regular job. It was such concerns that
made me quit my budding career as an IT professional soon after my daughter’s birth and relegate myself
to the role of a full-time research scholar. I was feeding Shreya in the afternoon when my mobile rang.
The voice of a known person from an unknown number startled me. These days I hardly receive such
‘stay-in-touch’ kind of phone calls! Soon after Shreya finished her lunch , it started raining heavily. The
overcast skies started pouring and it brought much relief. Shreya wanted to hear some rain songs and
poems .We together sang a few numbers and she fell asleep.
However, there was a special request from that very special frnd that added a different meaning to my day
,which was otherwise spent comforting my defiant young one. After a long time, I finally sat to write
seriously. All that I write these days are technical papers in which one needs to justify how one’s work
stands apart from the rest already available in the literature pool. Ofcourse sometimes I do write a few
lines in my research diary regarding my feelings about my work. Especially when either I am elated with
some new finding or depressed because of a stubborn road block.
Frankly I am no author. Nor do I wish to be one. Writing for me has always been something restricted to
my very own personal diary. I would often jot down my thoughts on something, or write a poem or two
just to celebrate that momentary emotion and experience the joy of creation. I used to write everything
small and big about each passing day in my diary. It was a gr8 way to vent out all my feelings. Perhaps I
wrote because my feelings and thoughts needed some outlet.I had been into poetry writing when in school
and during my early college days. I started writing poems when I was in primary school. Upon sharing
my initial poems with my school friends none of them were ready to believe that those were mine. I was
mocked at and accused of plagiarism! So I decided to stop sharing my poems with anyone. Henceforth
my parents were my lone audience. I never possessed any extraordinary poetic power. My poems were
but the outcome of momentary feats of creativity that used to strike probably because of a young urchin’s
zest for life, her love for the variety of sights and sounds that mother nature offers. But never ever did I
think of taking up poetry writing seriously. I wrote till I was 21 years of age. And all my poems were
safely housed in my diaries except one which got published in my school magazine. My vocabulary
limitations stopped me from going public with my poems as they were very simple and mostly composed
for my own self. I stopped writing diary after joining my first job at Bangalore. Poetry cannot be born
amidst stress. In my case when leisure ceased, poetry ceased too. My creativity hit an all time low amidst
the dean and bustle of city life. Words and rhymes that would otherwise just ooze out ,uder nature’s
loving spell, now seemed so elusive. I had almost forgotten everything about poetry that my roads crossed
with two very special people-Tanaya and Uma- both having a penchant for writing. They inspired me a
lot. But I always insisted that in a world full of so much excellence there is no significance for my below
average poetry. That’s all redundant .Upon being pressed by them I did write one or two poems, but the
flow of words was forced and I did not quite enjoy that forced poetry. My stand became firmer-I am just
not fit to write anymore!!For I could now more clearly understand my weaknesses. The time spent with
them were really magical and full of poems and philosophy but just not enough to spark up the sleeping
creativity in me. Because the more I appreciated their poems, the less inclined I used to feel to write my
own !!Although a poetry IQ test revealed that I had the potential to make a good poet, I never walked that
extra mile to hone my writing skills. Without efforts talent remains latent and fades away in course of
time. To quote poet Thomas Gray “Full many a gem of purest ray serene,The dark unfathomed caves of
ocean bear Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”(
“Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard")
I have no plans to return to poetry writing. In higher pursuits there is no place for ordinariness. But in life
no talent, no effort goes in vain. As said our revered Kabi Guru “jibone joto puja holo na shara,jani he
jani tobu hoi ni hara”. Today as a mother I keep getting requests from my daughter to sing rhymes on all
possible creature. I create some extempore rhymes for her and take pleasure in her elation when she finds
that mother has the solution for all problems. My penchant for writing finds its way through the little
overtly simple rhymes that I create for my little one. Had it not been for my daughter, my poetic life
would have (died a useless death)been useless. Shreya has finally given a meaning to it.
Well,it’s wake up time for Shreya .Lot of work to be done.Thanks to Uma for the phone call, as I spent
one afternoon atleast introspecting about me and my estranged friend -poetry. Uma’s sincere belief in me
forces me not to disappoint her. Her love for me makes her to think highly of my writing capabilities but
the fact remains that I struggle for words and rhyme. I doubt if there is any more poetry left in me. I can
see the poor poet in me slowly fading away.

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