Abhijit Naskar's Blog - Posts Tagged "autodidact"

No academician lent me a hand,
No industry gave an ounce of backup.
If I am what I am today, it’s because,
I was too stubborn to give up.
Hence I can say without hesitation,
My legacy is built only by me,
Not an industry, not a benefactor,
And definitely not some university.
I come from the working class,
With neither education nor wealth.
Hence, my priority is always people,
Not comfort, nor intellect, nor gelt.
The name is Naskar, I’m a Servant Scientist,
Painkiller to people, pesticide to prejudice.

Don’t be fooled by my attire,
You think of me a fool because
I want you to think of me a fool.
I am a behaviorist, and by behaving idiot
I study who’s true, who’s a tool.

I don’t dress all ancient like a monk,
yet monks come to hear the words I utter.
I don’t dress fancy like world leaders,
yet world leaders look to me for answer.

I don’t wear the uniform of law,
yet coppers study me to be better cops.
I never got to put on a white coat,
yet white coats study me to be better docs.

I am the person beyond the paradigm,
I am but a reflection of the best of humankind.

I teach myself when I need to learn something,
I correct myself when I make mistakes.
No two year old shaped as 40, 50, 60 or 70,
Has the maturity to provide me moral guidance.

I taught myself electronics when I fell for it,
I taught myself music in my youthful high.
I taught myself languages in sheer obsession,
I taught myself aeronautics when I wanted to fly.

Critics mail, I should add “biggest ego” to my bio,
I thank them all for an astounding revelation.
If I actually behaved befitting my capacity,
Half your legends will lose their reputation.

You only see the tip of the ice-berg,
Fullness of the Himalayas you’ll never see.
I chose to put many of my passions aside,
One path, one mission – one answer to calamity.

Put your conspiracy theories aside, I’ll tell you why.

Pain Fuels My Pen (Sonnet)

When I started writing, I had a partner,
I had plans to settle in Sofia with her.
But then I lost my link to the Balkans, when
she grew weary and took the hand of another.

I couldn’t write a single word for days,
but then, I let the god complex unleashed.
That’s about when my writing skyrocketed,
as the heartbreak jolted my brain
into a hyper-publishing engine.

I had all the time in the world,
and enough pain to fuel my pen.
Every time I got my heart broken,
it benefitted my mission.

First time someone broke my heart,
I dropped out of engineering
and emerged as the Monk Scientist.
Second time when I lost my love,
Planet Earth received the Poet Apocalypse.