I meant nothing to them, through no fault of my own, the second born, worthless,
maybe I'm wrong, my faults mounted over the years, to compare, he was great,
even if I was not corrupt from birth, it seems, from their own point of view,
a lousy kid, a thief, a liar, a card cheat, would amount to nothing,
nothing from nothing comes, it was necessary to unlearn my childhood,
to contemplate my past to efface its effects on my life forever,
no one knew who I was, a kid who needed love, attention, not beatings,
only a child suffers corporal punishment, everyone else forgets
the knife over my wrist, threats to cut off my hands, until the tears tumbled,
how could I trust, and whom, nobody had a clue, not even my best friends,
in fact, I was quiet, shy, rarely talkative, always inside my head,
nothing but terrified to speak the truth to friends, their families knew nothing,
given my history, I learned to lie to one and all, even myself,
therapy in college came during my first year, in tears without a clue,
only my family found me to blame, my health declined, I lost my mind,
they said it was the drugs I took while in high school, diagnoses were wrong,
how little time they took to label me for life, idiots called doctors,
enter psychiatry, categories, labels, pigeon holes, lightning fast,
mental health workers need help doing their job well with diagnoses,
though my parents blamed me for my mistakes, they took me in after my stay,
however nothing changed, I still walked on eggshells with the alcoholic,
remind me how insane people act when drinking, I work in a nightclub,
only now, at fifty, I look back knowingly, at how stupid they were,
understanding the mind, my parents were not well equipped to handle kids,
given their own background, growing up in Kenya, psychology was not
human behavior, but why the Mau Mau hated British rule from abroad,
nothing but the parties in the Gymkhana made sense to my own parents,
only, I was not born yet, not in Nairobi, my father and brother
found kinship in birthplace, in addition to blood, I was the outsider,
as I was born neither in Goa, like my mom, nor in East Africa,
until I realized, after my father's death, their contempt for my life,
little had I been told until mom and I fought, and she spoke words of truth,
that my brother, first born, had a choice to let go of his kinship with me,
only I never knew, everything was secret, hidden from even me,
father and mother were a united front in all their family affairs,
my life meant nothing, but still I became withdrawn, I trusted nobody,
yes, instinct took over, I learned to trust my gut, over their opinions,
only, I learned to be non-judgmental, to act with acceptance, to hurt,
windows to the soul, eyes cried tears for many years, then stopped, except for films,
no one knew I suffered, but I then understood we all suffer in life,
taught to identify suffering in all forms, I learned about distress,
however, I stumble still, as I interact with strangers, their anger
elicits emotions from childhood, I react to their taunts, to their words,
shallow the grave I pass, it is my own childhood, tortured, murdered, buried,
even today, I look back in wonder and think, imagine who I was,
conditions affect lives in strange ways, I channeled my pain through poetry,
on a cushion, I sit in meditation, breathe, let the thoughts come and go,
nothing but clouds passing, context and perspective, I became an artist,
drawing out of the well of sorrow, the water tasted mournful and sad,
bad children still become great people who love life, but their lives are tarnished,
only cleansing the soul of bad faith in conscience can someone learn to grow,
religion was no fix for me, I left the Church at twenty to find truth,
nowhere is certainty found outside the senses, I found the truth within,
will, determination, and strength of character released in me, Spirit,
ordinary language cannot convey in words this phenomenon, pain
released Spirit to guide and instruct my actions, like the daimonion
that Socrates observed, long ago, to warn him, how to act ethical,
honesty is never enough, to walk the path with open eyes, to see,
listen, let others speak, this is how Spirit talks, something strikes me as strange,
even if I could start all over from the start with the knowledge I have,
still, I would have to live this life, experience pain, sorrow, suffering,
somehow, it would not help, I am just who I am, a man born in Bombay.
