Saturday, December 12, 2009

Passion

“If there is no passion in your life, then have you really lived? Find your passion, whatever it may be. Become it, and let it become you and you will find great things happen FOR you, TO you and BECAUSE of you.”- T. Alan Armstrong

The above quote though lengthy encompasses the power of passion most succinctly and explicitly. The great leaders loved, adulated and idolized by the masses have attained their iconic status primarily due to their innate passion that drove and charged them towards attaining their goals. It so appears that the entire universe conspires to make them succeed. Unknown faces immortalize them by passing their sagas onto the next generation. The power of passion is so pervading that many a thousand men have laid down their lives proudly at the command of a passionate voice.

When I travel in a crowded bus or train (which is rare), I find that it is crowded with faceless men. You replace one face by another and the result you get is almost similar. The morning faces are listless. The after work faces are listless and tired. Mind you, tired of not labour but tired of dispassionate labour. Few passionate men at the helm of the companies oil these replaceable cogs of the of their dream machines with ‘salaries’. They endure eternal humiliation every day, these slaves of invisible bondage, stuffing themselves into packed public transport, chickens transported to be slaughtered, rubbing their bodies with other faceless to such an extent that their essence is indistinguishable among the multitudes others that have rubbed onto them. They work everyday doing the same thing as months earlier and expecting to do the same months later. Organic machines!

In contrast to these faceless men are the passionate people. Everyday is a new challenge. Everyday brings them closer to their goals. Everyday they possess the power to shape the lives of others. They enjoy what they do. They rise up everyday to face a new challenge and come back home with a satisfied fatigue of a job well done. Passionate people exude confidence, an aura surrounds them. They may have been involved in the same field for years but a casual talk about that field will elicit excitement.

The commonality among all successful and respected people is passion. Take any field and remember the first person's name that pops in your head. Cricket- Sachin Tendulkar, Music- A.R. Rehman, Leadership- Mahatma Gandhi, Entrepreneurship- Narayan Murty or Dhirubhai Ambani, Business- Ratan Tata, Astronaut- Kalpana Chawla or Sunita Williams, Painting- M.F. Hussain, the list is endless. All are renowned for great passion.

Most people have some skill or talent that is innate and emanates great passion for it. Each person should understand this skill and try to find ways in which it can be best used for self development. The driving force would be passion and result can be money and more importantly satisfaction. I believe, if everyone could find this one innate skill and work using this skill, this world can be a much happier place.

A quote: Leaders are created not by position but by passion.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Atonement

I was listening to Fade to Black by Metallica and for some reason felt morbid. That inspired me to pen this poem.

Life has been difficult for you,
You have been beaten a lot,
Darkness is all around you,
You feel you're nothing but a blot.

You hate any word of kindness,
Abuses give you false peace,
Drowned in misery and self hate,
You wish your life may cease.

Cut the wrist with a blade.
Sleeping pills will give you ultimate salvation.
Jump from a building high to the ground below.
Hanging will save you further damnation.

Your last and 'dying' wish granted,
You're saved from all the shame.
Deserved this you feel for your deeds,
Cleansed you feel is your muddied name.

You are saved from your sadness
But what about your own left behind?
Emptiness is filling their hearts,
Seeing your body, crying their eyes blind.

A Boring Lecture

Was inspired to write this poem while sitting in a physics class!

Half an hour to go,
The sadistic watch mocks,
Thirty minutes of painless torture,
Nine hundred more tick tocks.

Time comes to a halt
When the professor starts to teach.
His drone fills the room,
His monotonous sleepy speech.

His voice a brilliant lullaby
Induces sleep in one and all,
The pen stops and the eyelids droop
When the lecture proceeds in a crawl.

A select few listen to him
For the rest he's a buzzing mosquito.
What shall we not do or give
For him to stop and go.

Enduring this never-ending torture,
We enhance our skill of tolerance
For we have no say in this matter
But hope for his sweet disappearance.

We sit like mindless zombies,
His speech going into one ear,
Left unprocessed by the brain,
And quickly leaving through the other.

And when the lecture comes to an end
We are finally happy and free then
But our joy is short-lived
As the next day the class starts again.