Tag: Poetry

Brownness

Impromptu

Sanjay Sabarwal

This word has been stuck in my head ever since I began using Fathom AI which automatically takes notes for my business zoom meetings and then transcribes them into notes but the subject heading is always Impromptu meeting which got me thinking. So much of my life is impromptu. Take for example, me taking Zyan to the park twice this weekend and then SkyZone or the friends get together we had last night which included drinks, UNO and plenty of food and laughter.

There was a time I dreaded the unknown, wanting all my time to be structured, but more and more I see the value of just doing something out of the blue just for the sake of doing it. More often that not, it turns out to be well worth the time and experience. This weekend contained so many unplanned events, but the memories created warm up my soul. I see how it deepens the connections between my friends and family but most importantly it allows my wife and I to work as a team to have experiences that make for easy smiles.

Without her support, much of the weekend would not have happened. In a way, she is the Fathom in the marriage, the one who puts it all together, making it look easy when each impromptu thing takes time, patience but most of all acceptance. Sure, I created the impromptu but she made it look easy, fun, and something to look back on gratefully. I can’t wait to see what we come up with next.

Thank you Babu, the one who makes impromptu look easy!

Myself, Preeti

Happiness and Thank You: A Blog Post

Sanjay Sabarwal

Lorsque paraît la beauté..
Image by ImAges ImprObables via Flickr

It’s easy to write when your sad, angry and full of hope, but harder for me to write when I am happy.  My high school teacher Marie Tollstrup used to say that if you look at most poetry and literature, it has traces of negative emotion with a happy ending merely to showcase the writer’s whimsy, yet today I feel obligated to note the love surrounding her and I, amongst our dear friends, family from abroad and in general.  Each day in the past week has been full of positive emotion, brimming with future possibility, and the reality that our time has finally come. This December will make it 5 years when I fell in love so deeply and truly with someone who I had known all my life that it still feels unreal that I am with someone so beautiful inside and out.  But I digress.  These past few days have made me realize how truly blessed and lucky I am to have the people I do in my life.  Looking at my past posts, I have spent an inordinate amount of time whining about the ones that truly do not matter, ignoring the ones that come around me at a drop of a hat, and I cannot help be thankful for being just good enough to have them in my life.  I do not know what I did to deserve them but dammit, I am going to make damn sure I keep them!

 

Thank you, thank you, and thank you.  I wish I was more eloquent but I cannot stop smiling, while soaking in these beautiful days and events with amazing friends and family.  THANK YOU!

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Fraud: A Blog Post

Sanjay Sabarwal

The Secret Life of Words
Image via Wikipedia

I have a need to be read so I know I exist.  These are my words, and I need to share them.  Too long, they have gone silent, and worst of all ignored by me.  I had convinced myself that writing was enough, just like breathing.  But after a while, you need more than air to live.  Life isn’t just a series of breathing exercises yet for a while that’s how I treated my life.  Something I just had to do.  No vision. No motivation.  Just passing of the day and really just being lucky enough to be around people who loved me for existing and providing me with everything.

So why am I whining because I know I am a fraud.  I know that the words coming here now are just so simple and don’t even come close to the poetry in my head.  It used to be so easy and now I am lazy and dull.  I stopped listening and hearing what the words were trying to tell.  So now I just sit here, listening to amazing religious songs with a cold cup of coffee trying to convince myself at 38 that this is what I want to be.   Yet every moment feels forced, made up just so I can say I wrote. 

I am a writer.  It’s what I tell myself when I wake up every morning, and the first strokes of the words comes easy.  Yet after a minutes, I find myself tweeting/emailing/posting/reading/searching/paying bills all throughout the precious time I have managed to find to write.  It’s as if my body is telling me to get real and go back to my superficial life. And I oblige.  That’s the sad part.  I know I am failing myself and yet somehow I still continue on the path. 

I am a fraud, but at least I know it.  And knowing is half the battle, Gi Joe reminds me.  But wait, I feel like a fraud but does that really make me one?  It’s the question that nags at me.  Who am I, really?  Am I the thoughts in my head or am I to be defined by actions?  What is it about slamming these letters down that makes me feel like a light weight heavy lifter?  Is it the guilt that the joy I felt when I first learned to transform my thoughts into reality seems buried, muffled underneath the chorus of doubt and guilt? Or is it just not meant to be? 

Should I remain a fraud or for once be the man I said I wanted to be?

And then there was silence…