My Ego - A Poem with Reflections on Understanding Ego and Self-respect; Ego and Social Labels; Ego, Trust and Love ….

How much have you suffered because of your notions of my ego ? .... You find all reasons to cause troubles .... Still, do I not owe Thanks to you for being better than worse ??!!

My Ego

How much have you suffered

Because of your notions of my ego ?

You degraded and maligned yours !

You got justifications to trouble me.

You are successful indeed !

Your hostility does harm me,

But, it will bear bitter fruits for you.

I am glad to give you happiness

From my miseries.

Do I not owe Thanks to you

For being better than worse ?

- Vanita Thakkar (20.03.2009)

 

Reflections ....

It is important to understand the difference between ego and self-respect in life.

What is self-respect for one person may appear as ego to another person.

Struggles for self-respect raise questions on sensitive matters concerning individual and social well-being, including :

• traditions
• self-image
• identity .... and so on ....

Whether between / among individuals or small groups or large groups / communities, such mind games, in the name of perceptions, often involve use of various labels that usually carry importance on matters of collective interests, such as loyalty towards (many times, so-called)

• accepted practices (that may be urgently requiring changes for good),
• social concerns,
• religion,
• gender,
• region,
• languages,
• belief systems and so on ....

The use of "by hook or crook" ideology keeps delaying justice / possible reconciliations.

Sometimes I wonder, why do people say there are clashes in ideologies, when actually in most cases, there are clashes between self-respect and greed or between greed on both sides, that causes much harm to whatever is being fought for.

Self-respect and Greed

Sometimes I wonder, why do people say there are clashes in ideologies, when actually in most cases, there are clashes between self-respect and greed or between greed on both sides. Do you agree ?

• 90% Yes
• 0% No
• 10% Not sure

10 people have voted in this poll.

The willingness to accept responsibility for one’s own life is the source from which self-respect springs.

– Joan Didion

 

Ego, Trust and Love ....

The satisfaction of being trusted is a better compliment than the satisfaction of being loved. Do you agree ?

• 17% Yes
• 0% No
• 83% Love without trust is either blind due to possessiveness or lame due to helplessness.

12 people have voted in this poll.

© 2021 Vanita Thakkar (Published on HubPages on 27th July, 2021)

Motherhood : Poem - The Greatest of Joys - Still, Where Does It Get Lost Or Trapped, On Its Way From Doll-House To Home?

  .... I saw, birth-givers not becoming mothers and Motherhood craving in childless arms …. 

And I wonder, where did It get trapped? 
Where? ………..? 
Where is It struggling? On its way from doll-house to home? ....

To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power. Or the climbing, falling colors of a rainbow.

— Maya Angelou

"We are born of love; Love is our mother."

- Rumi

Motherhood has a very humanizing effect. Everything gets reduced to essentials.

- Meryl Streep

Mother is a verb. It's something you do. Not just who you are.

- Cheryl Lacey Donovan

Motherhood

I was a little more than

Five years old,

Had not started

Going to school, yet.

Everyday,

I listened to the radio,

Heard songs –

Most of them Hindi Film songs ….

And was very impressed

By Lata Mangeshkar ….

One day,

Curious,

I asked my father,

“Pappa, does Lata Mangeshkar’s daughter

Also sing so beautifully? ”

“Lata Mangeshkar

Does not have a daughter.”

“Why? ”

“She is not married.”

“So what? ” ….

I wondered !!

I had the impression that

At a certain age,

Every girl becomes a lady

And a mother,

Bearing and rearing children ….,

A phenomenon as natural

And as matter-of-fact as

Flowering of plants, trees ….

“You are a fool ! ”,

My not-so-elder,

But wise brother quipped

And unknowingly spared

Pappa’s adult answerlessness.

Later on,

I grew up,

Accumulated age,

And I saw,

Birth-givers

Not becoming mothers

And Motherhood

Craving in childless arms ….

And I wonder,

Where did It get trapped?

Where? ………..?

Where is It struggling?

On its way from

Doll-house to home?

Vanita Thakkar (12.07.2009)

 

"Mother's love is peace. It need not be acquired, it need not be deserved."

- Erich Fromm

"Sometimes the strength of motherhood is greater than natural laws."

- Barbara Kingsolver

A mother's love liberates.

- Maya Angelou

 

© 2009 Vanita Thakkar

Mr. And Mrs. Mouse - A Poem

 

Mr. Mouse married Miss Mouse. He brought her to his house; to lead a “happy” life, with his beautiful wife .... Read how their marriage progresses ...

Mr. And Mrs. Mouse

Mr. Mouse married Miss Mouse.

He brought her to his house;

To lead a “happy” life

With his beautiful wife.

Mr. Mouse was rather lazy.

After marriage, he also became crazy.

First, Mrs. Mouse enjoyed the favour,

Then, she lost her temper.

One morning, she began to shout,

“Mend your ways or get out ….”

Poor, dear Mr. Mouse !

He had to leave his house.

Mr. Mouse began to earn for a living,

He, also, became hard-working.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Mouse was in trouble.

Life, to her, was a lonely struggle.

One day, when she slept quietly,

A cat crept in swiftly.

The watchman Dog came just then,

Seeing him, away the cat ran.

Mrs. Mouse felt sad and scared,

“Oh ! Can these miseries not be ended ?”

She dressed herself and went to Mr. Mouse

To bring him back to ‘his’ house.

She felt sorry for being impertinent,

And made up her mind to be loving and patient.

Mr. Mouse came back, gladly,

For, he had also suffered badly.

- Vanita Thakkar (written sometime in the first half of 1984)

Memories about this poem ....

My friend, Shipra Mathur and I, were classmates and bench-mates, studying in seventh standard (seventh grade) in the Central School (Kendriya Vidyalaya - 1 (K V - 1), Vadodara).

My passion for reading and writing was known. Shipra wanted to see me write a poem. I agreed. We sat down and I started writing.

During those days, in our English lessons, we were studying the nonsense poem - The Owl and the Pussy Cat, by Edward Lear.

So, I thought of writing a nonsense poem. And this poem - Mr. and Mrs. Mouse - is what came up. We laughed and laughed as I wrote the poem.

Shipra loved the poem. She took it home and made her little brother memorize it. He recited it at an upcoming poetry recitation competition at his school and won the first prize.

That was great joy for all of us !!

 

© 2021 Vanita Thakkar

Picnic - A Poem - Revisiting and Reliving Joys and Memories of Picnic(s) ....

Picnics are fun times. Here are the memories of a little girl remembering the fun and joys of picnic ....

PICNIC

We went for a picnic

To a lovely, calm place,

A charming river flowing

Near by with grace.

Standing in queues

Long, thin trees.

Donor, little flowers

Surrounded by bees.

Cool and calm river water

Moving ahead slowly,

As if saying, “Go ahead !

As I stroll merrily!”

We play and enjoyed

And had snacks and sweets !

Hours passed by

As if they were minutes !

Round and red Sun

Hiding in the horizon.

Now, it was the time

For farewell to be bidden.

- Vanita Thakkar (10.01.1984)

I had written this poem as a little girl, passing my time, while travelling in a train ....

As I wrote this poem, most probably, I was remembering the picnics that we went for during our more than five years of stay in Assam till 1982.

One of our choicest destination was the village Jogighopa on banks of the mighty River Brahmaputra.

Bhutan was about 65 km from where we stayed. Weekend trips to the beautiful hills and towns in the nearby Galephu / Gelegphu region were very common.

The joys of roaming around in green wilderness, playing, singing and dancing in the shades of huge trees and enjoying the delicious delicacies we used to carry from home were vivid in memories ....

There were some other scenic locations as well, in nearby hills, which were called the Bagheshwari Hills or the Bagha Hills.

Some tea gardens were also there near the BRPL Township in Bongaigaon, Assam where we resided.

There was a well-knit group of neighbour families from different locations all over India - like, those from Gujarat, Maharashtra, Tamil Nadu, Rajasthan, Andhra Pradesh and Uttar Pradesh .... staying together in the township. Far away from our home states, we used to often have such fun-filled weekend outings together.

Memories of Acquaintance with an elderly Sindhi Brother-Sister Duo travelling with us during a train journey ....

It was January, 1984. We were travelling by train from Vishakhapatnam, Andhra Pradesh to our home town Vadodara, in Gujarat. My brother and I were both school-going kids. We had to go from Vishakhapatnam to Mumbai, which takes about 30 hours and from Mumbai to Vadodara, which takes an overnight journey.

At Secunderabad, we were joined in our compartment by a gentleman and a lady, who we got know were siblings. The gentleman was elder. He must have been in his late fifties and his sister looked a couple of years younger to him. As it sometimes happens during train journeys, we co-passengers got introduced and little chats began. They were Sindhi by birth, residing in Hyderabad and were going to Pune.

Train journeys, for us kids, mainly meant sitting by the window, enjoying the swiftly moving beautiful views, and reading the books that we would get every time we undertook a train journey. We usually had long train journeys, so we got at least two books each per journey to keep ourselves busy and happy. We read in turns and were eager to finish reading them fast so that we could ask for more ....

I loved writing as well and during that journey I had penned this poem - Picnic. I showed it to my father and then to our co-passengers. Both were very happy, appreciating and encouraging me to keep writing ....

My brother has always been jovial and witty and like most brothers, he enjoyed teasing me. I was cute and talkative, as little girls are. The quips and counter-quips between my brother and me kept our little company amused.

We came to know that the elderly siblings were going to Pune to attend the funeral of their another sibling. They were both dressed in an indicative white attire and the lady had a teary, sad look in her bespectacled eyes, even as she lovingly smiled during our conversations - a smile that I still remember.

The more than twelve hours journey from Secunderabad to Pune got filled with fond affection of our co-passengers for us kids and friendly conversations between the elders. The elderly gentleman, as they were about to reach Pune, asked me to give him my notebook. He wrote a verse addressing my brother in it, which I still remember, even though my notebook got misplaced and is probably lost now, after so many years of handling between different places we stayed at. It said -

"Good boys love their sisters

And so good have they grown,

That they love other's sister

And forget their own !!" ....

Fond memories !!

Was published on HubPages on 27th September, 2021 

© 2021 Vanita Thakkar