NEOMED Grad Practices Poetry

Writing poetry is ‘’more exhilarating than exhausting’’ – like a good game of racquetball, says NEOMED graduate Amit Majmudar, M.D. He believes that words can change l

ives. As Ohio’s first poet laureate, appointed by Gov. John Kasich in December, Dr. Majmudar plans to use poetry for just that purpose.

In his new post, he’ll be expected to provide a minimum of 10 public readings or events annually in urban and rural settings across the state. He plans to mix poetry with music or visual art.

He’ll start with 10 students or so from the most disadvantaged school districts in Ohio, mentoring some of them himself and connecting the rest with fellow poets. His goal is to publish student poetry online in a literary journal.

“First, your own school district thinks you have talent, and then a recognized poet thinks you have talent: I believe that it can be a life-changer for a kid from the inner city to have someone who believes in them,’’ Dr. Majmudar says.

Dr. Majmudar (pronounced MAZH-moo-dar) doesn’t have to give up his day job as a diagnostic nuclear radiologist in Columbus for his two-year appointment as poet laureate. When he was at NEOMED, he pragmatically chose radiology because he foresaw that its regular hours and lack of on-call emergencies would allow him to continue writing. “I’m like a shift worker,’’ he says. However, he acknowledges that managing the two positions plus family life with seven-year-old twin sons and a two-year-old daughter is possible because of his supportive wife, Ami (‘’like my name, but without the t’’) .

A child of Indian immigrants who were primary care physicians, Dr. Majmudar credits his parents for letting him learn to manage his own time when he was a teenager growing up in Northeast Ohio, rather than micromanaging his schedule. Although Amit earned a medical degree at NEOMED in 2003 (after his sister, Shilpa, a 1999 graduate), his parents also let him follow his bliss.

“When I was 17 years old, I wrote this giant book of poetry and my parents paid to have it published. They couldn’t relate to my obsession and they didn’t really read my poetry, but they supported me and they are over the moon that I am poet laureate now,’’ he says.

Poetry filled a need in him when he was a medicine student, but Dr. Majmudar doesn’t push it on everyone. He believes that for someone like a NEOMED student, the key to good psychological health is to have something outside your syllabi, anatomy lab and anxiety about grades.

‘’It doesn’t matter whether it’s a sport or religion or something else. Outside interests make you well rounded, a person of the world,’’ he says. For him, ‘’school was work and poetry was play.’’

Amit Majmudar’s NEOMED years

• Influential writers: Jorge Luis Borges (the Argentinian writer) Goethe ( the German writer) Ovid (the Ancient Roman poet) and Shakespeare
• Classroom memory: Surreptitiously reading Cosmos by Carl Sagan during lectures
• Poetry involvement: Entering NEOMED’s William Carlos Williams poetry contest
• Non-medical interests: Reading history

The New Yorker, The New York Review of Books, The Atlantic Monthly and Poetry Magazineare among the publications that have featured Dr. Majmudar’s poetry. The New York Timesand Ohio’s acclaimed Kenyon Review have published his essays and literary criticism.

The poem below is from Amit Majmudar’s upcoming collection, “Dothead,’’ to be published in March.

Dothead
By Amit Majmudar

Well yes, I said, my mother wears a dot.

I know they said “third eye” in class, but it’s not

an eye eye, not like that. It’s not some freak

third eye that opens on your forehead like

on some Chernobyl baby. What it means

is, what it’s showing is, there’s this unseen

eye, on the inside. And she’s marking it.

It’s how the X that says where treasure’s at

is not the treasure, but as good as treasure.—

All right. What I said wasn’t half so measured.

In fact, I didn’t say a thing. Their laughter

had made my mouth go dry. Lunch was after

World History; that week was India—myths,

caste system, suttee, all the Greatest Hits.

The white kids I was sitting with were friends,

at least as I defined a friend back then.

So wait, said Nick, does your mom wear a dot?

I nodded, and I caught a smirk on Todd—

She wear it to the shower? And to bed?—

while Jesse sucked his chocolate milk and Brad

was getting ready for another stab.

I said, Hand me that ketchup packet there.

And Nick said, What? I snatched it, twitched the tear,

and squeezed a dollop on my thumb and worked

circles till the red planet entered the house of war

and on my forehead for the world to see

my third eye burned those schoolboys in their seats,

their flesh in little puddles underneath,

pale pools where Nataraja cooled his feet.

–published August 1, 2011 in the New Yorker magazine