I write so I can breathe. I am constantly evolving, mindless at times, frustrating even perhaps but heck, I wouldn't change the smell of freedom that comes with writing.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015


There is a constant jarring of my nerves, a sense of foreboding, a feeling that things are getting bad to worse. It feels that we are losing our sense of being Indian and becoming petty little items of religion, cast, colour, region and so on and so forth. Pride in being an Indian first has deserted most people I come across.

There is no bigger entertainment right now in our lives than politics and religion. A fly on the wall, that is what the rest of the world is, is indeed very amused by the antics of what is going on in India. There is no turning back the clock, no freezing time...but heck, can't it get to a better highway than it is bulldozing its way forward right now?

Who is a bigger laughing stock? An insecure Modi or self-contained pliant Manmohan? I don't know. I know it is better to keep shut and make people wonder if you are...You know that proverb eh! No, this doesn't make me a pro-BJP or Pro-Congress or Pro-AAP or pro anything. I am a small-fry citizen who simply wants to keep her sanity intact and not want to be terrified of the future of her child in the country India is becoming. 

We mess around with our Constitution, our Fundamental Rights, there is no sight of the Directive Principles that out to guide the governance. We are messing with truths, with untruths, with ideologies covering basic humane instincts, tarnishing childhood innocence with prejudiced garbs of religious beliefs and antagonistic nonsecular emotions. I go back to the lessons learned in Civics and wonder if that was all a dream. I remember memorizing the Preamble. Heck, Have we all forgotten it after having it drummed into us?

We pick on things. Little things. As a citizen and as a governance, we are shameless. There are horrors that overshadow goodness and I wonder what kid of parasites are we to feed on such things and be fed such nonsense. We are quickly losing our identity (if it isn't already lost). 

Could we just have military rule for the next five years and get sorted? Yes, I will gather much chaff for saying so but I know what I am saying. And no, I will not get into a defensive mode trying to explain why, so do not bother. I am simply stating my thoughts and I hate talking to the walls. 

Also...there will eventually be that whiff of rebellion that will make its way to all your nostrils. The cup will run over. Be afraid. Be very afraid. 

- Sandy

Saturday, January 24, 2015

A Friend Called Solitude


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I am a quirky one; weird, unusual in my perspective of life and that adds to the confusion people feel when they encounter me in a conversation. Truth is, when we are very used to clamour in our lives, the things with maximum clarity can confound us to the core. I am an old soul. I believe that. You see, I grew five hundred years old when I was five. That is a pretty young age to be so old. I have my reasons and those who know the inside story know that it was unavoidable. 

Pain can become your friend only when you embrace it in the silence of your darkest hours. The thing to remember is that it is still an hour. It lasts sixty minutes. How long those sixty minutes or even sixty seconds last really depends on what side of the bathroom door you are on. Aye. You got it. 

Being alone became a part of my routine. As much as I long for people to be around me, to be loved, desired, needed, I really hold on to my solitude. It is an integral part of my process of evolving into who I am today and who I will be tomorrow. You see, the greatest clarity has come to me in moments of utter solitude. It awakens you to the fact that you are on an individual journey in this universe. All the souls you meet along the way may be part of your tribe from before, the road may be crowded as hell, or empty with just you walking it, but, the journey is your own. The more you begin to accept your silent moments as a friend the better and clearer the path becomes. 

The essence of Vipassana I am told is about acceptance of this solitude and knowing what to do with it. People get bored to easily. I am never bored when alone because I have conversations with myself, with the silence of the night, with all the sounds that emerge in the dead of the night because our ears become the canvas to the insights we can get when in our own company. Much as I believe in the importance of solitude for evolving, I have my reservations about Vipassana as a retreat to attend. That, is another topic of discussion which I place aside for the moment because that is not my point.

My point is, each of us has our own perspective on solitude. There is a massive confusion between the thin line that divides loneliness and the state of being alone. Loneliness comes with its pangs of longing for anything but being lonely. Being alone is the friendship one has with oneself, with one's soul. It is your darkest depths and the most stellar moments in your life. When you are sixteen, you may not really get it but as one gets older, one gets it...oh well...if you are alone you get it but if you are lonely, that ain't getting to you at all. It is simply a different perspective, a different experience.

My life's biggest insights have come to me in solitude. 

To each his/her own. 

- Sandy

Corrosive Tunes

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Cold grips, hands on window sills freeze
sliced into paleness and black
moonbeams cut through darkness
in a dance alluring, each move a tease

Nights hover, a thought hangs in despair
kohl-smeared, my eyes burn to light up
spinning my world within unknown tantalizing dreams
Oh free me! This bondage feels unfair!

A prisoner, embracing life's every pain
Come life embrace me!
Shadows on the walls, jeer me in the face
Nothing have I to lose, nothing have I to gain!

I gathered strength, on eyelashes kept them cocooned
Hidden from the ravages life threw on me
Rains fall now, draining the courage away
On a lonely island, here I am marooned

Gone are my dreams, he took them with him
Rushing away in tiny paper boats, struggling to swim upstream
A lifeless form imprisoned, alone and torn
Drowned in the laughter of the maniac's every whim

Now seeking a rhythm divine
Away from the cacophony of mind's corrosive tunes
A soul, bereft of love and solace
O Lord, awaits to be thine!

Copyright @Sandy2012

Friday, January 23, 2015

Darker than the Shade

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He brings her hands to touch him. He groans with the feel of those tiny hands on him. It makes him harder. She is sobbing, “Please, let me go. I don’t like this game. I hurt. It is paining me. Please…”

He hugs her and tells her, the game is just begun. She will enjoy it, soon.

The next few minutes she burns, hotter than the tears that flow down her eyes, the pain is extreme and her muffled screams remain thus, his hand clamped over her mouth. He is making noises that drown hers. She is afraid of him. She has never been in so much pain or terror.

It is over.

She cowers as he stands up. Her body coils into a ball, shivering, whimpering. He pulls her up to rise. Her legs give way and she is unable to move. He lifts her up and takes her to the bathroom. He bathes her, the water cold, humming a tune, blissful. She can barely breathe or stand. She sits quietly while he dries her and changes her clothes, carries her to bed and tucks her in.

“Now sleep.” He whispers, “This is our secret. Do not tell anyone.”

She stares at him, eyes blurring.

“I will tell Mommy.” She retorts back. He laughs.

“Nobody will believe you.”

The doll sat there on the shelf, eyes unblinking. The doll that stayed with her over twenty years, unblinking, bald, without clothes on, until she finally gave it away. The hairless doll knew her secret. She was the only one who she spoke to; little insensible monologues of guilt and pain…

As for telling anyone, he was right.

He was right. Nobody believed.

Copyright @Sandy

(This is just an extract of the complete short story. It is graphic and I have shared only what can be shared here keeping in mind the readership.)

Thursday, January 22, 2015

We Die Many Deaths

Who decides what death is when we are yet alive? Breathing and yet not really living, why is the fear of the unknown more than the hell we bear? Death is probably simply a question of what you want it to be. Everything in this world changes and the only definite unchanging thing is death. Death, the biggest reality, the most ignored, the best permanent cure of pain.

I was a little girl when death took away my brother's friend Philip. Perhaps, thereafter, we lost a lot of friends, family members, watched in horror as the world around us fell apart and the televisions became the visual medium feeding us with so much of horror that we have now become immune to what can move us and cannot. My closest experience was when my Biji (grand-mother) passed away. Life is short I realized. If you wish to say something to someone, say it. If you wish to hug, go ahead and embrace it. If you wish to love, do it. You just never know when it will slip through your fingers. I had another experience dealing with it when one of my dear friends' mother passed away. The process teaches you so much!

What does one do with death? I am awkward with condolences and the loss of a person really. There! I said it. I am not immune or indifferent. My threshold for hanging on to loss and pain is different; intense, meaningful and short. I prefer it that way now. It gives me more moments to celebrate the good about the person I have lost, remember and smile instead of cry. Isn't that better? I come across as indifferent perhaps but then I cannot live up to others' measurement of my loss or pain. Who decides how much is acceptable? And why?

Either way, I see more dead people walking and going about their daily routines than those who have stopped breathing. Have you ever met someone who wakes up really early morning and prays and then goes about in the next few hours abusing the house-help or the driver or the child, wife, husband, father, mother...what have you? That is a dead person. Death of kindness.

For instance, the man who whistles to a waiter/waitress instead of calling out to him/her? The youngster who doesn't stand up to offer his/her seat to an aged person, a pregnant woman? The people in the commute who push and shove the tiny frail ones, the ones who look poorer than them, those who are short? Death of courtesy.

The people who watched while a bride burned to death, a child molested, a woman or man sexually abused in public (or otherwise) and watched, driving past an accident victim without stopping to help? Death of selflessness and compassion. 

I could go on....but you get the drift of it.

Who are we to fear death when so much around us is killed, so much of ourselves we kill? Yes, I die too sometimes because self-preservation pushes me to smother some of the instinctive reactions I would normally have. I have had my experiences where I have stood afloat somewhere, watching myself be, deciding whether to let go or tell myself it is not yet time. Yes, I have had those moments. One wishes not to return mostly. I did.

Death is my biggest motivator. It is unchanging. It gives me the opportunity to cherish those I have in my life, those who love me unconditionally, presents to me each new moment that I have to make the most of. An unproductive day nags at me, not because I did not earn money out of it but the satisfaction of having lived it up! At the back of my head, it nudges me, fires up my zest for life, to breathe in love and energy. 

I know when I am dead. I am dead when I cannot feel; passion, love, joy, sadness, pain. That ever happen to you? To me, the phase was my worst ever when I felt no passion at all. But then, that's just me. 

Mostly, it is whatever works for you.

- Sandy

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Very Inspiring Blogger Award - Second One

I am humbled and grateful for a second time and this time to Uttpal who insisted that I accept this even if I had already received this last month because he felt I deserved it.

If I was speechless about it last month, I am even more so now.To sustain this is going to take me twice the effort...oh wait! I don't really make an effort any more. It is becoming a habit perhaps. You see, that is what happens when one's appreciated for what is being shared and I really am grateful that it makes a difference in the lives of so many, even if I have not met most of them personally.

If I am to go by the indicative rules I have to carry this torch and do a few things.
1. Mention seven more things about myself
2. Nominate fifteen more people (apart from those I nominated last month) who are making a difference with their blogs.

So, here I go...

Seven more things...

1. I am partial to dogs. I melt at the sight of them and I wish to God I had a huge place where I could have more than just one. However, I am grateful I have one. He loves me unconditionally. Find me a therapist who loves you unconditionally and does not judge you...yep, you get the drift.

2. I may not be lucky and Murphy may be my best friend but to make up, God has given me an extended family of amazing friends and I cherish them.

3. At any given point of time, I am always in love. Don't ask how. It is just what it is.

4. I am told I give the best hugs in the world. I am beginning to believe it.

5. Orchids are my favorite flowers. I am allergic to jasmine, lilies and well...white flowers. It is not that I do not like them. I cannot be around it.

6. A few things will always melt my heart...babies gurgling with laughter, babies gripping my finger, my daughter's eyes, hugs from friends, being loved.

7. As much as there is negativity in the world, there is positivity as well...you only see what you feed.


1. Wisdom Times
2. Sudatta's Blog
3. The Top Post!
4. Life Stalker
5. Kalpanaawrites
6. Lucid Dreams
7. Ananya Tales
8. Nandini Speaks
9. Memories
10. Sunshine and Zephyr by Shweta
11. Mumbai Daily
12. Powerful Views
13. Hell Its Mine
14. Footloose Forever
15. A Foodie, A Traveler and not a BLOGGER



Saturday, January 10, 2015

The Balancing Act

I saw a post this morning and I recalled what it was like when I had my now fourteen year old daughter. Like any new mother-to-be, I had apprehensions if I will be able to handle being a mother and keeping a balance of the 'me' that also needed to exist as desired. 

I had seen lives change when babies came into the picture. Suddenly, the attention had shifted from a mother-to-be to the baby. Of course, that is but natural...but here is the thing, how does one handle the lack of attention the mother gets thereafter? I mean, beyond the advice of eat this, don't eat that. This is good for the baby so you must eat this, even if you really hate it. Yes, all the karelas, the juices, the stuff that is going to get you to puke, as if you weren't hassled enough by sheer lack of sleep. Every one had their own recipe for succeeding as a mother, a parent. 

That is not all. Think about it. For a long time, one stays so immersed in the baby relationship alone that everything else flies out of the window. The relationship with your partner gets tossed out. The intimacy is crushed out of existence. Some men stray, some seek gratification elsewhere or just become Mr. Scrooge. Women are ignored. There is low self-esteem, depression...and that is just the beginning. To top it, if you are a single mom...God help you!

It drove me nuts and the only thing that worked for me was the single logical and sane advice I received which most labelled as 'selfish' and shook their heads in disdain about. There was no saving grace for me, according to the wise women around who had borne children, I did not know how to be a mother and was being disrespectful by not heeding proven advice. I was a losing battle, written off, een before I had begun. I didn't mind being slotted in my favourite slot as a human being - a black sheep. They stand out. Think about it. There is more breathing space and they are not keen to toe the line. I didn't. For years I was looked upon (heck, I still am) with that expression of sheer ridicule and pity for being the mother I was; no rules, no traditions, just gut instinct and a love for living life on my terms. 

I didn't get here as a mother just like that. I got here with the help from a friend I have never really met. I got it from my blogger buddy Deeksha. I am so grateful to her for this. My daughter and I have a happy relationship and that is what matters. It is not about being a cool mom. It is about being a happy mom and a happy daughter. 

Deeksha gave me a valuable piece of advice when I was having my baby. My kid is fourteen now. No matter how many years have passed by, this piece of advice has stood by me. I pass it on to you because a baby can turn your world upside down, and sometimes in very frustrating ways too...(yes, much as we like to say otherwise)...She told me, (in more or less these words) "Sandy, the baby is the new arrival. The world existed before the baby arrived. The baby needs to adjust to the world. The world shouldn't be adjusting to the baby. Only then will you be able to find the balance to stay positive and happy and keep it all together."

To you Dee. You rock! 

- Sandy