I Syndrome Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

“I” always remained alone
Liked isolation and preferred to be one
Shed tears over what was already gone
No, why, if and buts bothered one by one

When I tried to be plural
It never looked natural
I could not break from separate identity
One and only one hurdle considered to be bad quality

Many books or rather epics are written
About such existence in deities even
Who can be called supreme and ever reigning?
We all have fallen in such trap with bad beginning

So long “I “remain at the centre of controversy
One may remain obsessed with such ideology
Every comment or word about him may hurt ego
It will not allow him to feel free and forgo

History has witnessed number of empires ruined
So many ancient civilizations perished and downed
No traces are left on the face of earth to remember
Still we have confined or restricted to one magic number

Propagate “I” ideology with that of poorest of poor
Approach the weakest of the weak in the next door
Find out if you can be the person of some value
Help him in dire need if that is what is nearly due!

See the difference when “I” is transformed to one big tree
All the passers by sit under its shed and feel very free
Wind to blow with little intensity and afford nature’s luxury
Sound sleep in few moments as if not troubled by any worry

It is nice to feel strong as only one among crowd
You are taken as guiding power and spoken loud
What a tremendous change when “I” was sacrificed
Emerged on imagery stage where every word was promised

I feel odd now with single word association
It has no significance with any relation
No notice may be taken except as breathing entity
A flower boomed in desert with little grace from almighty