A long time ago in the mid-1990s, I used to keep my creative juices by devoting 15 minutes before work each day to write a few lines of poetry. The routine was simple - get to the office at Cuffe Parade, Mumbai early, grab a quick bite, head to my cubicle and write on any topic that seizes me. It was an exercise to strain my brain. It went on for a month or so.
Every day I would display my current day's poem on the space beside my computer. Some clients would find it interesting, some colleagues would read it and sympathize with me and my maker and my boss Subaraman clearly told me that writing poetry, especially the kind I was writing, would lead me to depression (mainly because he found my writing depressing).
I gave up shortly after that because I did not want to be depressed. That ended my short tryst with poetry as well.
Now, almost two decades later, I get a WhatsApp message from my friend Mony, who was then my colleague and teammate in the IDBI Cricket Team and listener of Jagjit Singh ghazals etc. It is a pic of one of my poems titled 'Sleep'. He shared it with his young daughters and told them that I now write books.
"Mony: Remember?? I showed my elder daughter.... and she was all smiles really
I told them that the person who wrote this is a famous author now... immediately my younger daughter googled you and showed me your images!!!"
I was thrilled to see this. I never knew Mony had a copy of that poem. Suddenly I wondered, there may be so many such thoughts lying around in the world. Stuff we wrote or said intentionally or unintentionally.
I am amazed that Mony has found it after all these years. What I am concerned about is what he was doing with it in the first place.
Jokes apart, thanks Mony, for preserving such a lovely memory and sharing it.
Every day I would display my current day's poem on the space beside my computer. Some clients would find it interesting, some colleagues would read it and sympathize with me and my maker and my boss Subaraman clearly told me that writing poetry, especially the kind I was writing, would lead me to depression (mainly because he found my writing depressing).
I gave up shortly after that because I did not want to be depressed. That ended my short tryst with poetry as well.
Now, almost two decades later, I get a WhatsApp message from my friend Mony, who was then my colleague and teammate in the IDBI Cricket Team and listener of Jagjit Singh ghazals etc. It is a pic of one of my poems titled 'Sleep'. He shared it with his young daughters and told them that I now write books.
"Mony: Remember?? I showed my elder daughter.... and she was all smiles really
I told them that the person who wrote this is a famous author now... immediately my younger daughter googled you and showed me your images!!!"
I was thrilled to see this. I never knew Mony had a copy of that poem. Suddenly I wondered, there may be so many such thoughts lying around in the world. Stuff we wrote or said intentionally or unintentionally.
I am amazed that Mony has found it after all these years. What I am concerned about is what he was doing with it in the first place.
Jokes apart, thanks Mony, for preserving such a lovely memory and sharing it.
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