Category Archives: Vocation

Poetic Professionalism

a poem by

I think I should compose a poem now.
Its almost two hours I last composed.
I do not know how I forgot to do one.
You decide the punishment be to me.

I am lazy fellow; I know it; I love that.
But I am not that lazy when its poem.
Even while sleeping, I continue to do
Thousands of poems in every minute.

You are a lucky guy to day to escape
From reading of poem by me for you.
But that cannot be the escape for me
From composing poem as my routine.

Now leave me alone, you dear friends!
Let me compose a new poem for you!

Gardening v/s Potting in Education

a poem by

To shape your child’s future, it is absolutely essential
To know his already existing inner potential

Some people spend a lifetime in pinpointing their talent
In such matters, nobody can afford to be nonchalant

It is only by early identification of your child’s unique gift
That you can really make your child’s fortunes lift

A teacher has to indulge more in talent extracting than knowledge stuffing
Choosing potting instead of Gardening tantamounts to bluffing.

Instead of potting which in molding clay can mislay
Opt for gardening which in sprouting seed produces the right breed

Gardening can really shape a child’s destiny
Potting sooner or latter will cause a mutiny

Being a gardener can prevent your child from lifelong imprisonment
Being a potter can avoid true enlightenment

If you choose to be a gardener, your will come out a winner
As a potter, in your child you will stifle the creator

When you opt to be a gardener, you are a true trainer
When you opt to be a potter, you are a mistaken, misguided selector

As a Gardner, you shall be the ideal career designer
As a potter, you shall be courting disaster

A Gardner is not a stuffer but a finetuner
Instead of being a potter, be a mentor, an educator.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It is said that education is all about bringing out already existing potential instead of blindly stuffing facts. Some parents and teachers try to be potters who mould the clay the way they like. Each child has infinite potential and is a future tree and therefore be treated the way a gardener treats a seed. Based on what the famous philosopher Socrates said “Educations is the kindling of a flame, not the filling of a vessel.” This poem advocates Gardening instead of Potting to groom your children. Though directed at teachers and educators, this is equally true for parents as well.


a poem by

Write for fun write stuns
Write to stunt
Write to sail write to swim
Write to shun write to sing
Write to strike write to sting
Write for right
Write to earn write to discern
Write to maintain write to sustain
Write to train write to gain
Write for plan
Write enhance write to dance
Write to entertain write to dream
Write just like that write fast to last.
Write to haste
Write for enjoyment write first.

A Nomad’s Bounty

a poem by

As you go globe trotting, O, you rich beggar,
Looking for know-how and markets, except
The add and multiply – your fond number game,

As if it’s never enough, even your occasional
Charity made for boon is not without the seal
of tax concessions in return on your acquisitions.

If you come across any on your way,
Be humble before the poor beggars.
They don’t cost you or your State,

or your society a Paisa* except a social shame.
They don’t even figure on the Voters’ List.
They are the silent Buddhas of your times

With begging bowls, a lesson without words.
Thus said a nomad once to himself: Learn
to divide and share the Nature’s Bounty.

(* Paisa: Indian currency, a hundredth part of Rupee.)

Copy Cats

a poem by

Some men copy
Not well but sell
Making available

Some men copy
Sheer compulsion
From article

Some men copy
On it, manipulate
Though origin traceable;

Some men copy
Claim straight; as their own
Declare; outright

All copy cats protest.
Accuse one another

Sleep Walk

a poem by

Wage wars – Heroes?
Push to the edge – Zeros?
Wipe out races – Free?
Impositions – Decrees!
Is there nothing better to do?
Than cause pain – hurt issue;
That blood flow through
Our vein;
Though awake
Still we pretend.
Use sleep walk tactic-
Hate practice;
Find plausible excuse
For deliberate mistakes.

A Modest Actor

a poem by

He enters at the end of the third act
dressed in a police uniform
points at the villain of the play and says:
“Arrest that man!”

It’s only ten o’clock
time for a beer in the bar
where actors drink, chat about the play
and his next role as a stern looking judge.


a poem by

A plastic disc can change my mood
A plastic card can buy me food
A plastic box to capture memories
Press a plastic button for some cool breeze
Plastic flowers with plastic dew
They are plastic words I hear from you
A plastic screen when I get bored
A plastic Ad and you get lured
A plastic capsule to make me well
A plastic bottle with a plastic smell
A plastic needle with a plastic thread
Plastic thoughts when I go to bed
A plastic tube when I get breathless (Inhaler)
A plastic hook for my plastic dress
A plastic prayer for a plastic God
Do you have a plastic heart o lord?

The Wrong Career

a poem by

The two major decisions are career and wife.
Considering the time spent on the former, a wrong choice can ruin one’s life.

In fact one’s career is something that one spends most of his time.
It would be an understatement to state whether in prose or rhyme.

Considering all this, I would say that it is a big faux pas
That instead of this theme, nine times we have made the movie “Devdas”*

(*Devdas is based on what happens if one does not get the right woman rather than career)

If there is one thing that in one’s progress as an individual can be a strong barrier,
It is the wrong choice of career.

There cannot be greater misery and loss
If in addition to the wrong career you also end up with the wrong boss.

If you are not in the right vocation
It implies a life of misery and suffocation.

On the other hand the choice of the right occupation
Thomas Edison’s “I never worked in my life. It was all fun.” suggests a lifelong vacation.

Remembering Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs and self actualization.
Can only be implemented in letter and spirit if at an early stage there is Realization.

It is only because the education system in certain respects has continued to remain hollow
That there is many a fellow who for a lifetime continue to wallow.

The education system has to have the right focus.
If in the adult life of many an individual it has to avoid a ruckus.

There are many for whom the “Concentration or absorption in work is a kind of orgasm”
If really so, why in theory and practice in education, there is such a wide chasm.

Concentration is the secret of success in politics, War, trade, in all of human affairs
It is actually spontaneous concentration; a wrong job is full of nightmares.

Education being derived from latin terms; “ek” means ‘out’ and ducere means to draw
If the basic purpose of education is unfulfilled, it should withdraw.

“Idle mind; Devil’s workshop’ the result of education not being able to draw out.
Work banishes boredom, vice and poverty; for misfits there can be a dangerous fallout.

The consequences of not following the real education are far reaching.
A teacher should try to be an educator; he should not restrict himself to teaching.

A lot of teachers are obsessed with knowledge stuffing and blind instruction.
They should give personal attention to ensure that in learning, there is no obstruction.

Another deplorable obsession among teachers is the weightage given to tuition,
In education at least we can do without such pollution.

A lot of people indulge in corruption; sometimes profession spawns many a prostitute.
If only they were aware of the Vicissitude ; if only they could witness the professional destitute

There are some pseudo motivating glib talkers who keep harping on attitude.
Instead of gratitude, there can be nothing but platitude if there is no spontaneous aptitude.

Education has to go beyond the obvious, it has to go beyond merit.
Instead of stuffing facts, it should be detecting talent; looking at spirit.

Occupation should be such that in which one can spontaneously occupy
You are in the wrong field if it takes too much force to apply.

It is not just a question of earning one’s livelihood.
Materialism and spirituality being two wings of a bird, it should also make you feel good.

It is not just about choosing a line of business.
Doing something for most of waking hours has to be something you can do with easiness.

Considering that one has to spend eight to ten hours for a lifetime on one’s job.
In this respect, how can one remain afford to remain a slob.

One’s career is something you simply cannot but adore, it should not be a bore
How can one spend a lifetime on the work which seems like a chore.

What is the purpose of running after infotech and biotech,
If the basic anomaly of education we are unable to check, why not pursue humotech.

There are some who think that work should be more fun than fun.
Extreme mismatch can be like resigning oneself to the life of a nun

It is for this reason that for not detecting talent the education system has no excuse.
For being in the wrong place forces people to live the life of a wretched recluse.

How can one not pity if in one’s work ones sees no beauty
Who wants to live lifelong doing some imposed duty.

The latin meaning of the word education is to draw out what is already within
Considering all that, blindly stuffing in facts is a sin.

It is a pity that despite the kind of clout that the education authorities wield
They are not able to fulfill the basic purpose; people still end up being in the wrong field.

There is no point in approaching a doctor
One has to face the basic factor, early in life there must be a talent detector.

“People’s hobbies are more their measure than their jobs”*; entails due respect to hobbies
The education system should undergo a metamorphosis and cater seriously to such lobbies.

(Quotation by Robert Byrne)

The doctor may give palliative medicines and try to cheer
That is all useless because the right cure is the right career.

On not being able to concentrate on the job, if there is tremendous frustration,
Being nothing more than focusing on the right object, the right career is the right mediation.

Whether the pursuit is knowledge based or vocational,
The education system must try and ensure a perfect fit; such instances should not be occasional.

The well reputed education institutions boast of very good placements.
However once inside, both the employer and employee face a plethora of resentments.

Education has become a business; like other fields it has become over commercial.
It’s basic purpose should not have sloppiness; in that it cannot afford to be controversial.

Everybody has heard of “Square peg in a round hole”;
That is so dangerous that from a very young age finding the right career should be a goal.

There can be nothing more appalling,
Then not being able to find one’s calling.

It is high time that the benefits of education are both financial and emotional.
Restricted to degrees and jobs, they are merely notional.

Considering the emotional and financial implications involved, there cannot be any concession
In not being able to pinpoint the right profession.

It is not for nothing that spiritual literature is full of “Know thyself”.
Being an extreme job misfit is like a lifeless showpiece on a shelf.

If there is one thing that for individuals and nations can prove to be a blessing,
It is that there is not a single misplaced human being.

If we were literally following the real education.
For every person, we could ensure lifelong recreation.

“The real tragedy of life is not being limited to one talent but failure to use that talent”*
At least in such cases the education system must draw out; it cannot remain silent.
* Quotation by Edgar work.

I hope I have been able to prove that the inappropriate career is a major wrong
One should fit with one’s career that it should seem like poetry and life a song.

The Surgery

a poem by

The nurse who gave me the injection smiled and said
“you’ll sleep and won’t feel a thing”
“But my wonderful woman
do I want to know and feel everything
do not cheat me of my own death” I whispered
but she didn’t hear me

A momentary fear, then the light dimmed
and I was enveloped by a silken darkness,
now I was weightless
and could be everywhere at once.
Stars are not distant and cold,
tenderly they absorbed me in a mild embrace
and the Milky Way was full of fat brown cows mooing softly
as I flew passed.

When they wheeled me into the theatre
the surgeon was smoking a Havana cigar
which he left on a kidney shaped dish,
its aroma wonderful
and I inhaled deeply.
With a scalpel he cut an apple in half
nodded satisfied!
sharp enough.

Switched on a sharp eye hurting light
that had green dots dancing around bent over me,
and cut my chest open,
I was fearless standing behind him
whispering surgical jokes about things left behind in cavities.
He suddenly smiled and told the nurse
a filthy joke about a penis that could talk,
she giggled and dropped her cigarette!
I didn’t smile at all.

The Last Voyage

a poem by

The ship slowed shuddered and stopped,
run aground on a sandbank,
the pilot looked confused.
“It wasn’t there yesterday,” he muttered to our silent captain,
who kept his mouth shut in fear of saying something regrettable.
The old man rang Mobile, that’s in Alabama
and quickly tugs were on their way;
he was annoyed with the pilot it was his last voyage
before hanging up his sextant after forty years of seafaring.
The old man paced the starboard side of the bridge
the pilot occupied the portside,
they were not on speaking term,
but courteous as always
he sent me to serve the pilot coffee who,
since he had no one else to talk to,
told me that that damned sandbank wasn’t there yesterday.

The Promotion

a poem by

He was a sociable man,
popular amongst the crew,
looked stylish in his uniform,
so they made him a master of a large tank-ship.
A job he wasn’t suited
for didn’t know how to behave
now that he was the boss,
sat in his cabin and barked orders into the intercom.
When on the bridge
he reeked of whisky and loneliness
and then one day, in a bay,
his ship ran aground
an accident not of his making,
but he was drunk the pilot said
so as did the other officers.
Now he work at a warehouse
drives a truck,
a friendly man
popular amongst other workers.
But at weekends
there is a shadow in his eyes,
walks along the beach
the sailor who will never again
see a Caribbean sunset.


a poem by

Labourers planting saplings tender
Why do you work in rain and thunder?
“Singing choral folk songs of our nation
we transplant paddy to fight out starvation.”

Labourers laying brick by brick
Why do you build the wall so thick?
“To protect the lives from storm and floods
we build so thick for the dreaming buds.”

Labourers weaving from dawn to midnight
Why do you weave the cloth so bright?
“To clad the babes and robes of a bride
We weave the shroud for a funeral’s pride”.

A Solitary Occupation

a poem by

Lettuce ears hang on a leafless tree,
while pale lips kiss its trunk.
Dead eyes, the fallen fruit of fall,
litter the ground and brain cells drip
as rain on a soil where nothing grows.

Write no more she says
I’m living with an empty shell
while your mind is dreaming up another trip
to a place far from here
that you won’t, or can’t share with me.

Write no more useless words,
stay with me, now.
I looked up the moon was full,
but shed a tear, it landed in my garden
and covered my flowers
in a blue film of sorrow.

Turn my back to the dreamy night
switch on the TV
and together we watch a soap;
contented she smiles
while I think of something
that I will write when she’s fast asleep.