Blackout Poetry

The topic of discussion for the meeting was poems. I have a very odd relationship with poems. I hated them through my school days. For some odd reason, the teachers expected me to memorize them. Even at a very young age I realized the pointlessness of memorizing anything, the least of all poems. But I have a bigger problem with poems - the pronunciation of the word poem. All through my life, I believed that the combination of p, o, e and m was pronounced po-yem. A few years back, a set of English teachers tore into my perfect pronunciation by informing me that it should be pronounced pom (or something like that). I don't believe them; poems are supposed to be beautiful. So, the pronunciation of the word cannot sound like the horn of an autorickshaw - pom pom. I get the feeling that this is some kind of conspiracy planned by the English teacher. Hmmmm, pom it seems.

The topic of discussion brought out a loud silent groan from my insides. Almost immediately, I cut the connection between my ear and my brain. I looked at the dial of my watch. Five minutes had passed from the beginning of the meeting. I followed the seconds hand for a few seconds. It went around the watch dial in circles. I sniggered silently and thought "What a pointless existence! All it does is to go around in circles". I got an idea. I opened my book and started writing about the life of the seconds hand as it raced through a minute. I would have completed the minute worth of poem had the meeting not taken an interesting turn.

Out of the blue, the person chairing the meeting decided to introduce the concept of blackout poetry. She projected a few examples of blackout poetry. It involves taking a page or an article from a newspaper or a book and blacking out most of the text except for a few words and phrases. These words and phrases form a new poem or story. It seemed an interesting process. Taking an existing object and converting it into something unrelated. The introduction was followed by an exercise. We were all given a page of text and some crayons. From this we were expected to create a blackout poem. The page was from the book, Walkabout by Bill Bryson. I have not read the book but I believe it has to do with the author going for a hike. The page I got recounted his hike mate and him eating at a restaurant during the trip. I read through the page and was thrilled to find out that Bill's hike mate's name was Katz. A deliciously wicked thought struck my head. I took out my pen and started circling the words and phrases that interested me. Soon I realized I should be blacking out the parts that I did not want rather than choosing the parts that I wanted to keep. The crayons were placed to make my blackout poetry a piece of art.

Art was never my strength and so everything I do has no element of art in it. I still attempted to put in some colour to the sheet. The process ended up being boring and only made my page look worse. Midway through the process I gave up and continued circling words and phrases. In a few minutes, the process ended and my blackout poem was ready. I read it with pride. The title of poem emerged organically.  

Cat on the plate

Hungry man breakfast platter

Katz pumping testosterone

Man appreciates pancakes, honey, Katz

… and early morning happiness

She went off with pride, a big beam

I sought the other Katz thoughtfully

A sudden fearful look

A heartbeat full of limbs

I made a sympathetic expression

My starting point, the limbs

We ate up and got out of here

Very happy, a cup of coffee later

… and ready to go

It is warm in there and cold out here

We’ll freeze out there at the edge of the woods

Ahead of me spread a vast, stark world of winter dead trees

A fragment of the original Appalachian Trail passed here from Springer

9 March, we were on our way

Into a wooded valley chuckling

A farewell speech

The decision was made. I was informed "you will give the farewell speech to the students". I had been with them for two years and though that was two years back, I seemed a better candidate than others. I did not agree. I did not enjoy my time with this group of students. Every Wednesday, I had to spend 90 minutes with them. In those 90 minutes, I attempted to teach them physics. They spent the first 10 of the 90 minutes in resisting to settling down. Once they settled down, they listened to my utterings for 20 minutes. They spent the next 45 minutes in interrupting the session with requests to go outside and play. By this time, I usually gave up and sat down on my chair with my head resting on my palms. I felt glad when the year ended. I thought I would never have to stand in front of them and lecture. But the world had other plans.

I protested "I don't want to talk to them. As a matter of fact, I want to take off on that day". I got a stare and "no way" in response. I persisted "but I have nothing good to say about them. I don't want to lie. It will be obvious that I am lying". "Why don't you talk to them about your days at the college? It might help them." I liked the idea. I don't mean the helping them part but talking about my college days. I have never talked or written about those day and it was time I thought about it a bit.

In preparation for the talk, I opened the laptop and started writing the following.

Once again, I find myself standing in front of you.

A few decades back, I too was at the same spot as you. The years that followed in many ways defined me as I went through experiences that have added to my understanding of life. 

The aspiration of getting into a premier institute was something my parents had. But I was sure I won’t. During those days, I spent many evenings standing by the gate waiting for a telegram with the news of my admission into another institute. That telegram never came. Over the next few weeks, my self esteem hit an all time low. I still remember the evening when I walked back home from college crying. But then, the three years I spent in a city college changed me. I started working hard at what I had gotten into and working hard has remained with me since.

For a long time, I blamed physics for being the reason for my not getting into that premier institute. I did not like the subject. I knew how to score marks in physics but I did not understand it. Ironically, I ended up doing bachelor’s in physics at the city college I attended. During the three years, my opinion of the subject did not change. I thought I had seen the last of physics in my life when I started my master’s in computer science. However, that journey did not end there.  Twenty-five years later, I found myself standing in front of twenty-eight students teaching that same subject – physics!  Interestingly, the last five years have made me realize that my not understanding the subject could only be attributed to me not trying to understand the subject. As a teacher, I could not afford to do what I could as a student. I had no choice but to learn and understand every concept I taught. I now realize that the problem was not with the subject or the teachers but with my own thinking. This learning has given an insight into me as a person. 

I look back at those three years in college and realize that there are no good or bad occurrences in life. Events happen and we decide whether they are good or bad. My not getting into the premier institute was just an event. It gave way to my life at the city college where I made friends who have stayed with me till now. I have done things that I never thought I will, like controlling traffic at the Saidapet signal and providing siddha medicines at the Anna hospital. At the end of the three years, I realized that I could push myself to the limits, physically and mentally, if I had to. I also realized that one can be unsure about the future and yet feel happy. Most importantly, I realized that one cannot write off anything in life. Everything that one does or learns can come back to us later. So regardless of one’s own interest in a topic or a subject, it is good to be involved in it whole heartedly.

Another significant learning for me was when I got an experience of hostel life after my 20th year. For the first three terms, I revelled in my new-found freedom. During the three months of the second semester, my friends and I went out and watched, on an average, three movies a week. In the third term, I got a D in an important course. That D turned out to be a wake up call for me. From then on, I decided that I would only spend time with my friends when I could. Work always got the priority it demanded. When you live away from home, no one observes your day-to-day activities. So, you have to observe and guide yourself. I needed a shock to realize this but I could have missed the shock among the many diversions that living by yourself offers. 

I feel the coming years will be far more exciting and eventful for all of you than the past years. I hope all of you pause from time to time and look back at the events of preceding days or weeks or months. Take care of yourselves and have fun. I wish you all the very best.