The Story behind the Poetry Contest

Well, before I get started I suggest you read this charming little poem. http://thegreatindianstoryteller.blogspot.com/2010/06/jobless-and-jolted.html

Okay, I get it. Don't call your own poem charming. I decided I would write the next post only when I had the time and was happy.

You can pretty much figure how my life has been this past month.

Apart from TEDxSSN, it was boring this previous month. Suddenly, out of the depressing loom of the dreaded UT, I got a phone call informing me that I was short-listed for the Poetry Prize. Needless to say, I got excited and my eyes that were drooping on relational calculus started to shine and open.

Hmmm, "Let's start at the very beginning" I guess. Long long ago, in those gold dust filled halls of the humanities block was announced this Poetry Contest.

RULES:

Max 72 lines
2-3 poems
Not published before, even on your own blog

My thoughts:

Rules for poetry??
New ones???
Entry fee: Rs.200 ????

Well, then she said first prize Rs. 3000 and sort of made it more interesting. So I thought, what the heck, let me give it a shot.

Then I got down to business one weekend. I neatly numbered 1 to 24 on a diary sheet since I decided to write three poems of 24 lines each. I was confused whether to use a pentameter or heptameter. I settled on a pentameter finally but it wasn't iambic.

I just realised the above sentence wouldn't have made sense to me some time ago. What I'm trying to say is that I was trying to put ten syllables in a line and iambic is when you alternately stress and unstress. (For further fun on iambic pentameters, read Angels and Demons!)

I am the story teller after all, and jotted down a nice little fairy tale with refrains and alliterations. However, it was hard work getting the story to get over in exactly 24 lines with 10 syllables each line AND to maintain the rhyme scheme.

I had to think hard for the others. Harry, of course, naturally came to my mind. Then, I drew a blank. Afterwards, my sister called to play chess. Eureka! My third poem was ready. Again, getting to describe all the characters within the 24 lines was difficult. Then, I typed them out and sent it by mail and print.

And I heard of them no more.

I'd get hints of some activity. The contest was opened for one more month.
More competition.

Then, absolutely no news whatsoever.

After that, I got a mail telling that the prize distribution was on Friday, February 25th. I got all happy, imagining I'd won it only to realise it was forwarded to 20 others as well. And the musical strains of my mother's voice filled the room when I was babbling about it, "First study for your ut, don't keep dreaming!" . Curse you ut!

But on Friday 24th, I was excited. I hoped to get the second prize. I told everyone I was short-listed. My mom was optimistic, she said that even if I didn't win a prize, at least I had come among the top six and that she was happy about that. Perhaps too much "drishti"? Anyway I went to college, read my friend's poem and decided mine were rubbish.

The Ceremony was grand. Hindu journalist, Mr. Mukund Padmanabhan was the chief guest (Ya ya to all those fellow CBSE alumni, the author of that Umberto Eco interview).

And there were speeches.

And there were speeches.

And there were more speeches.

After some hotshot introduction about the judge (which convinced me my poems were useless) , they finally read out the short-listed candidates. You should have heard the titles.

A Vibrant Passion of  Love.
The Dreamer.
Random Something (Sorry Niyathi, wasn't paying attention)

And mine:
A Chat about Chess
Magic Masters over Muggle Me
A Tale of Two CROWNS (instead of crows)

It sounded DUMB!

Finally, the Fiction Second Prize was announced. (Good grief, it was like the Oscars, envelopes and all!). Then, the First Place. Then, the Poetry Second Prize:

My heart was racing.

Some random girl.

Disappointment to the core. Well, at least I was shortlisted. Then they announced the first prize goes to

A Chat about Chess

Magic Masters over Muggle Me

A Tale of Two CROWNS

I gasped. If my friend hadn't pushed, I would have sat right there in my seat. See, if they had called out my name, I would have instinctively gotten up. But I just sat there. And then I went, bumbling and tripping to the dais in my usual fashion, confused whether to step on the stage directly or use the stairs by the side and so many other decisions frankly to be done unconsciously, but I was very, very conscious and naturally felt silly.

Afterwards I felt, what a typical Enid Blyton like story. You know how mostly the youngest girl will check if she's on the reserve team and will be disappointed she wasn't on it only to realise that she was on the main team. 

So that's that and I'm happy for now. I just put up the poems, hope you enjoy reading them.

Of course, I didn't get any change in revaluation of my papers as expected but strangely didn't feel too depressed.


I've decided to be happy.

A Tale of Two Crows

Long long ago, in a faraway land,

faced two crows who had the gift of the gab.

An arrogant sneer met a soft, gentle

yet firm look. The latter looked very drab

when compared to the majestic and dark

sleek coat that had taken hours to arrange.

“A challenge”, announced the big mighty crow.

Thus the sands of time swirled to winds of change.

“The one who is able to, by means of

his prodigious strength, carry this bag

filled with a substance chosen by his wit

to that tree first will earn the winner tag.”

The handsome haughty crow filled his bag with

cotton. His rival was out of range

as he had used salt. Then, began the rain.

Thus the sands of time swirled to winds of change.

The meek measly one glided to victory

as the salt had dissolved rapidly. He

proved his worth and quietly observed the

other, with forlorn faded feathers. He

felt his rival’s power of silence, while

being dragged by the sagging sack. Exchange

of such stories light up the novice mind to

whom now sands of time swirl to winds of change.

Mirth and Joy - taken from an art forum

Magic Masters over Muggle Me

Around the same age as Harry was when

he discovered magic, did I listen

to my friend’s advice and read the books that

changed my life forever. The Sorting Hat

had chosen me to be one of Harry’s

greatest fans. Bordering on a Dobby

like fashion, I followed the many years

in Hogwarts with passion. A muggle yearns

to be a part of this world since the journey

has truly been magical. As fiery

dragons and Dark forces Harry battled,

in a parallel universe rattled

my soul against evil in my own world.

As Harry caught the Snitch, in a whirl,

I did cheer for him and my very first

poem. Just when Harry had been so cursed

with the worst luck and accidents so

had I been dogged by misfortune. Also,

as he climbed out of it with help from friends

did I forge wondrous friendships. When amends

and sorry were made with alacrity

did I humble and later destiny

was ours to conquer. Alas! my quill dries.

For you dear Harry, till the broomstick flies.

A Chat about Chess

“Chess, milady”, said the king, “is very

serious business. I, for one, am very

slow, moving one square at a time, but in

all directions. Guard yours truly to win.

Beside me, is my faithful queen, a strong

soldier who darts across the board along

all points of the compass for the team. And

on either side of us, the bishops stand

who move diagonally and defeat

the enemy by forcing a retreat

with their wit and shrewdness. Alongside them,

are positioned the brave knights. Strategem

is easy as he is undaunted by

a foe in his path as his steed doth fly

over him in clever L – formation.

Up next are the strong castles. Foundations

so strong hinders diagonal movement.

Hence, they heave their heavy selves and then vent

their power in a straight manner. In front

of us, is a phalanx of pawns. They hunt

their prey one step at a time and forward

alone. They are oft thought cowards

but on the other end become powers.

May the battle begin, my dear flower.”

Chess - John Singer Sargent

Joy and Sorrow

I hate falling ill so often

I hate being alone in my den

When I am surrounded by friends,

I must a paint a picture penned

by me to disguise my pain.

In the end, it is all in vain

as their words but fall on my ears

and I feel detached and my fears

confuse my words and acts.

There are many facts

my pride hides from them.

I can hardly walk, there stems

my reluctance to catch a bus,

absolutely nothing else. Thus

its a simple reason, yet I feebly

blame my poor daddy.

I hate being a girl

sometimes.  All's a whirl

of concern and you are so dependent.

I have my guilt to contend

with when my mom travels to pick

me up from so far and it pricks

my conscience that I was glad

she did anyway. She's clad

with the mantle of duty

and I'm her biggest cause for worry.

A few kind words do numb my distress

but the balm wears off when they digress

back into their own lives. 

Yet out of the ashes of despair,

is born a new me. The fair

angel of righteousness

commands me when laziness

takes an upper hand. I strive

to give back to those who drive

toward me in care. My body and

mind become strong having grand

disappointments and disturbances.

I discover being alone is the biggest

distraction, with the largest 

network at hand and a library

to boot, my thoughts turn contrary

about solitude.

In the end, I surrender to God,

in both sorrow and joy and applaud

the care and blessings I've earned

as well as the trials and learnt

that I love my life and All izz well!

Kindred Soul

It was math. We were doing probability. It wasn't that bad, just a bit repetitive. My eyelids were kept open with great skill as they were behaving like the opposite poles of a magnet. A bumbling person entered the room with a circular and the teacher skimmed through the text. Already whispers started breaking out to the musical intonation of snorts and giggles. "Hey probably they are informing about leave for pongal!", chimed my misty-eyed friend in front of me. Argumentative me replied dolefully, "Nah! They are probably going to announce that there is compensation for the holiday we got".

The teacher cleared her throat. We looked expectantly at her.

"All students are hereby informed that there is a lecture at the mini-auditorium from 11:30 to 12:15 by Yale astro-physicist Priyamvada Natarajan."

The entire class was indignant. Not only did the mirage of a holiday just vanish, they were asked to sacrifice their precious lunch. Not happening.

My attendance record isn't exactly impressive. A host of diseases have a gala time on my body and I was pretty sure by Indian Standard Time, it would spill over to the next hour. But the word "Priyamvada" caught my attention. A female physicist? It sounded too good to be true. I mean, I've visited a lot of forums for women in Physics but had not found a single Indian woman. I was fascinated.

You see, women in physics is a Harry Potter like obsession for me. More than engineering, there is an element of adrenaline in physics. And I love math as well (yes, I do sleep sometimes in class but that does not mean I hate the subject!) so its a perfect marriage of interests. I'd always be the lone girl in all science quizzes. There would be many in olympiads and things like that (relatively at least) but quizzes in science were a male phenomenon. This gap increased further when I took science into the eleventh grade. I went to a girls only school but attended an IIT coaching class where only 20% were girls. And of them, very very few interested in physics. I think my interest in physics really took off after 11th grade because I was fortunate to have two extremely passionate physics teachers.

So I decided I'd take a risk and attend that lecture. When the bell for lunch came, I gorged on my lunch at the speed of light much to the chagrin of my refined classmates and I feebly attempted to hide my indecent munching but I was pre-occupied with the fact that I had to eat or would be flayed mercilessly by my mother (that is an exaggeration, but still...). Then, I hoisted my backpack and was off to the mini-audi.

I met my friends from another department and was chatting with them happily. One friend remarked on the fact that the lecture was on energy development or something even though she was an astrophysicist. I said that would be anti-climatic as I had had enough of alternate energy resources to last me a life-time. Finally, the dignitaries entered and She - Dr. Priyamvada Natarajan, a woman who was about to fill me with a buoyant feeling, entered.

The AC was on full blast, and I was shivering - literally - and clutched my backpack closer to me. Yet, I was drinking in every word she uttered. She told us how she did a dual degree, with full scholarsip, in MIT in both math and physics, how Stephen Hawking was on her viva team, how she was the first female astro-physicist to be elected as a Fellow at Cambridge. I am not 100% sure about the correctness of these details, I may have confused some college names but the fact remains that she was a force to be reckoned with.

The lecture was on black holes. Astronomy used to be, many moons ago, my favourite topic. I have a hazy recollection of reading on matter and anti-matter annihilation, the CERN experiment, mind you I'm not an expert at these topics, just a little aware of them.

Artist impression of black hole collision

The talk was fascinating. So many slides had mathematic projections run on a super-computer. Yes, I am also very guilty of a condescending review of the presentation font style but forgive me, I'm a critic to the n-th degree and would never mean it personally.

Black holes, in my imagination were little black marbles that would suck you into a void. I understood that I wouldn't be pulled into it, I'd be spagettified into a thin layer and added to its increasing mass. What makes the gravity of the black hole (by the way, formed by the death of a star whose density is above the Chandrasekar limit) is its high mass in a small radius. By Newton's Universal Law of Gravitation, the gravitational force is proportional to the product of the masses attracting each other and inversely to the square of the distance between them. There were loads more details that I'll cover in a separate post soon.

She wrapped up her talk on her work where she discovered that black holes have an upper limit as well. She told us how theoretically, growing from the early universe, black holes should be enormous but they are not as projected. She discovered that the packed mass suffers an explosion, and it takes very long time to regain its original strength.

I glanced at my watch. It was five minutes to 1 pm. My lab session would start in five minutes and I had already missed my algorithms class. Still, my enthusiastic self wouldn't resist itself when the session was open to questions. I asked her whether increasing mass would lead to increasing radius, thereby curb the growth. She told me that the Scwarzchild radius was to be considered because this is not classical mechanics, even the speed of light is not sufficient to escape its pull. Also, she referred to her four-dimensional work where space-time sheet is a puncture at the black hole. She left us all dizzy with multi-verse, worm-holes and string theory.

I was cutting it thin. My lab sir is reputed to expect apology letters for lateness. Even, then I trundled down to the dais and.....

She told me that physics is empowering, that teaching physics was amazing, that women in physics is daunting and full of sacrifices and requires a certain amount of fearlessness, that she was attempting to build a library, that she likes to dress well, that she is a feminist, that she balances between male and female, yin and yang, that she likes poetry, that she loves research, that she is Bharatnatyam dancer, that she feels physics is dominated by aggressiveness but she likes to let her work speak with assertiveness. In the end, she said it doesn't matter whether you're male, female, brown, black or white, what matters is your physics!

Apart from the dancer bit, here was a living breathing soul twin.

I asked her autograph.

She had stirred my flame to fire. I wish to teach physics, more importantly my passion for physics. She gave me proof that it wasn't such a crazy idea after all.

I do not know what I should have done to be so lucky to have both our universes collide. On second thought, like she said we make our own luck.

P.S. I fell ill the very next day. I remembered pessimistically how I'd never have had the strength to survive in MIT on my own. Then I also remembered, it doesn't really matter!

P.P.S. The title was set by my sleepy busmate who was in the trauma of deciding whether to sleep or listen to my enthusiastic non-stop talk and was looking painfully happy for me until I understood and let her sleep.

A Beginning

The Story Teller traces
her own story, the races
of the heart, the feats
of the soul and the sweet
enjoyment of the mind.
As the tales unwind
today when the breeze
of change soothes the freeze
of winter and rustles the
leaves of my story, the
vivid illuminations
of the recent recitations,
inked by the quill of time
reflect the midnight chime
heard exactly a year ago.

The last year began on
a usual note masking the lawn
of lush ambitions spread
before me. I did dread
the spate of exams I had
to face. I discovered power
in poetry and the flower
of freedom in obedience.
I was also an audience
to many funny incidents at college.
On quite the falling edge
of May, I bid adieu to my
first year at college. On my
entry to the next level,
I enjoyed being part of the marvel
of a quiz team and winning
a prize too. The shining
crown jewel has to be
my very first "salary".

I revelled in my new-found

friendships with my home-bound

bus-mate, the stories we shared

and the old bonds dared

not to snap either

but grew stronger.

My birthday this year,
from being a humble dear
day sky-rocketed into
an awesome party. Onto
all my friends do shower
my praise for making every hour
memorable that special day.

I would also like to say,

The seed of this blog

Bloomed after hours of slog

this year. Also the most 

impacting and the most

influencing event has to be

my very first tour. To be

so far away from my

family and part of my

unpredictable tour was an

experience I'll never forget. An

amalgam of facing fears,

having fun, laughs and tears.

On a lighter note, of course

I proved I lay in the course

of becoming the most accident

prone person, with potential dents

to my head, glass pricking,

electric shocks and falling.

The leaves are now fresh with

the smell of fresh parchment. With

no further ado, this new day

has begun in a nice way,

waiting to be saved in the

annals of memory. Let the

celebrations begin today,

Happy New Year's Day.