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.

Friday, March 27, 2015

Ten Things Before I Kick the Bucket

11 comments:
My bucket for the list of things to do before I die is bottomless really. But, here are my ten that tops the unending list in no particular sequence:

1. Write a book/ write books 
 (Image Courtesy Google Images)
It is taking longer than ever but it is still one of the things I really wish to accomplish before I die. I will.

2. Dream Drives/Road Trips/Places 



 (Image Courtesy Google Images)
(i). Ladakh
The North of India has this beautiful land hidden away which is a long time dream of mine to explore. A road trip, no specific plan but just drive to wherever the roads take me and off road too. I believe this particular road trip for me is an important one in my journey to find myself, to reflect, pause and look inward. 
(Image Courtesy Google Images)
(ii)  Storseisundet bridge Atlantic Road and Tromose (Northern Lights) Norway
This unbelievable 8km road  connects the cities of Kristiansund and Molde. This road is an open sea road along the Norwegian coast crossing  islands; the distance between the islands were so small that a road was built over the archipelago. For a person who loves to drive, this is one stretch I want to drive. A drive right through Germany's Autobahn. As for the Northern Light, I don't even need to say anything about Aurora Borealis. 


 (Image Courtesy Google Images)
(iii)  Annecy, France 
In south-eastern France,on the northern tip of Lake Annecy is this beautiful Venice-like town. Only, it is more picturesque and quiet and as yet unknown. The criss-cross of canals makes it one of the most photogenic places in France. 
 (Image Courtesy Google Images)
 (iv) Folegandros, Greece
Tucked away in the Aegean Sea is this pristine white paradise of Folegandros on a 700ft cliff. This place has been on my list of travel spot for the past decade. Someday, I want to take in the splendor of it all in person, walk down to the sea on the ancient mule tracks and forget the rest of the world exists.
(Image Courtesy Google Images)
(v) Masai Mara Sanctuary Safari, Kenya
Yes, this is one safari where I am willing to let go of my hands on the wheel and simply explore and go around appreciating wildlife in Africa. One of my favourite dream safaris because there is nothing that compares to an African  safari and an African sunset.
(Image Courtesy Google Images)
(vi) Machu Picchu, Peru
This is one of my dream sites to visit from history. The mystery and the magical spirituality of the place beckons to me. Situated on a mountain ridge above the Sacred Valley, this beautiful surreal destination is a must visit for me. 


(Image Courtesy Google Images/ thegreenpastures.com)
(vii) Tawang, Arunachal Pradesh
Tawang is a peaceful hill station in Arunachal Pradesh in North East India. The challenge lies in reaching the place and the journey is incredibly fulfilling I have been told. 
(Image Courtesy Google Images)
(viii) Munsiyari, Uttarakhand
This is one challenging drive and very rewarding in terms of the beauty and quaint life it leads. Nestled in Pithoragarh, this place is a starting point for a number of treks into the unexplored Himlayas.
(Image Courtesy Google Images)
(ix) Salt Desert, Kutch
I am not really one for dry desert drives but this one is unique. The stark white salt desert and the splashes of colour of its people. I have this roaad trip to make too!
(Image Courtesy Google Images)
(x) Cinque Terre, Italy
This bunch of five villages (and the colours are amazing) on the Italian Riviera is another dream destination for me that overlooks the Mediterranean. The cuisine, the people, the places all calls out enticingly to venture into a world that explodes your senses. 

3. Make a Film - Script/Direct
 (Image Courtesy Anticlock Films)
Yes, I have co-produced one film, and a National Award Winner at that but I want to direct a film that I write the script for. Someday, I will.

4. Donate hair to a cancer patient
 (Image Courtesy Google Images)
If you see the length of my hair, you will laugh at this one. My hair currently is less than 5mm long. Yes, I wish to grow my hair long enough and then cut it to donate to a cancer patient who wishes for hair. 

5. Open a bristo/A food truck that goes everywhere

(Image Courtesy Google Images)

This is a dream for me. I will get to it.  One can pay as much as they feel like. Hmm...I gotta earn enough for this but that is how I wish for it to be. My wanderlust and need to cook for those who love to eat could work.

6. Learn to Salsa
 (Image Courtesy Google Images)
This is one dance form I wish to learn. For someone with two left feet, this is a dream but it is on my list. Bring on the shoes. Umm...I have to get my back sorted first I am getting there though, slowly but surely. 

7. Specialise in Black and White Photography
(Rafique Sayed - Image Courtesy Google Images)

I held my first camera at the age of 9 when I scrimped and saved two hundred and fifty bucks to buy a black and white Agfa Click III that used little film rolls (12 exposures). It has been a journey for me. I am an amateur phtographer who takes pictures more by instinct than technical perfection. It is my dream to be mentored by Rafique Sayed and learn. 

8. Buy a Mercedes for my Dad
 (Image Courtesy Google Images)
I know I have to be incredibly rich to cover this one. My passion for cars comes from my father. His favorite brand of cars is a Mercedes. He believes Daimler engines are the best there is out there. I want him to have one. 

9. Live without communication gadgets for a year
 (Image Courtesy Google Images)
Am I nuts? 
No. 
I want to do this. 

10. Will my vital organs to anyone who may need it and my body for medical research
 (Image Courtesy Google Images)
I may not be sure how I will die but I do not wish to be cremated or buried. I wish for my body to be put to good use. This really is not something for before I die but yes, this is the one thing I want done after I die.

Phew! I need to be incredibly rich. I am wealthy though..

- Sandy


Monday, March 9, 2015

Message to My Daughter

1 comment:
 (This piece was written by me five years ago on a fellow poet's request when he lost his wife and his little one a mother. This piece is a letter in verse from the mother to the little girl Marlana. )

Marlana, dear sweet cherub of mine
grieve not, cry not, shed no tears for me
I surround all your days with love
even though you cannot see me

Marlana, the light of my life
I have not gone away
I live, inside your father now
Look deep into his eyes and you will see
 
Marlana, my daughter, my endless delight
When you feel the breeze on your face
When the warmth of the sun lights up your face
Know, that I am smiling, enfolding you in my embrace

Marlana, the apple of your Daddy's eye
When you feel you need to talk to me
Your Daddy dearest will be my ears
For I, reside in him, all you need is speak to him

Marlana, my little one, with a soul so pure
Know that you are, my inspiration
to stay in your heart and his
To be with you in times of sorrow and bliss

So, Marlana, O pretty pretty sprite
Believe in yourself, and know I abide
In the sounds of nature around you
in the whispers of the moonbeams that caress.

Marlana, my sharp and brilliant child
You have the world to conquer and you will
Just believe I hold your hand and walk beside you
Be your father's strength and know he loves you so!

Copyright Sandy@2010

Saturday, March 7, 2015

Unsent Unread - Until now

5 comments:
After all this time, what do I call you? Friend? Lover? Soul mate? Stranger?
 
After all this time, now, I am able to dig them out. The letters I wrote, peek out of the ‘sent’ folder and some abandoned ones from the ‘draft’, never sent because I needed to reach out but knew, with a sense of despair that they will hold no value to you, be of no degree of understanding, attention or regard it deserves. I search for the desperate me, letters I wrote to you, furious, desperate fingers, gasping to reach out to touch upon your soul and this damning distance between us. The reminders of the agony of it all, the purest joy of it all, lessons shared, a moonbeam or two slicing through, love, friendship, soul…I live again, those memories, the meaningful ‘us’ encased in them, a drizzle that never quite became rain, it is there but not quite. 
 
The unsent letters jump up and hug me and I know I am right, untainted I love you and in my deepest dirtiest crime, I still desire you in mind. You could get tired, hearing all of it, I contemplate, a pause that loads my heart with gunpowder ready to burst through. In pursuit of you, my soul loves and lives and that thread you have so tried to sever, it binds you to me, burns because you set it on fire and it remains burning, not giving way to the adversity of your concept of my feelings for you.

I sit and letters I read, the pouring emotions of my heart alone, for you seldom wrote back, preferring to leave me in the passages of your hazy thoughts that seeped out from your soul and you pushed them back, imprisoning yourself in fear and in back-breaking obligations of favors you felt you owed the rest of the world.

Thoughts that clamored for freedom spill over pour like falling rain, no holds barred the start of something or a closure or two. Perhaps it's one of those days when the soul speaks and I a tool in its willful hand pour stream of memories craving for a thought, a yearning perhaps when truth and reality that want to be the same stay locked in a passionate embrace, a soul and a breath, lips soft as moonbeams in dreamy corridors, glowing in the silent sighs of a love unrequited.

Alone I walk, in the silent tears of a burning sun, it burns hot, burns cold and it felt the same either way. I must tell you my soul struggles to leave your memories behind. My mind is working through the walkways of telltale signs of affinity and my heart is wary because it loved you, deeply, struggles to let go, to hold on and then let go, pleading for peace to descend while I now pour my feelings and memories of a timeless precious moment and weep words that speak of its lonely travels.

Just an ordinary day it is today, and I long forgotten fall’s burning leaf, fly in, slowly resting alone on a cold wintry day. I catch my breath, as I write to you. Words swim its knots into my soul as I look at your photograph. Your eyes speak and I have to choose between these eyes that bear its piercing fire into my soul and the window you had left ajar, just a bit, into your own. I gasp as my heart stops, caught in its moment of resounding recall of when I had taken the picture and I want to remember you. Not me; my soul wishes to, from another timeless lifetime, dizzying heights of absolute surrender, the darkest depths of the world where no shadows exist.

I visit that ember within that lights up the wall where the writings become clogged, dust gathering where I have been left untouched, in the recesses of my soul where I glow with a light that I understand only because I walk in darkness and there is always a light and I can read, every writing on the wall, and in these unsent letters, the story of us, incomplete, unfinished, infinitely old...

How can you manage to upset me so much or make me feel so lonely? It feels unfair. I feel stripped to my bone. But, wasn’t that the point of this relationship; this madness and insanity beyond which lies bliss (you said)? I am wondering why you behaved like this with me. Was it the absolute sense of security you felt with me or was it sheer indifference of it all? Is this what it is to love you blindly, with my entire being laid out to do as you please? How do I feel about this? I don’t know. Mostly I feel like a ping pong ball being tossed around.

Right now, I feel a sense of emptiness. Where did all that I feel yesterday go? That is the thing. You fill me up and empty me out at will. I feel I have no control. It makes me want to shake you, to claw you until you begin to respond, leave those welts that will burn you and be a reminder to the extremities of emotions you makes me feel. It also makes me want to then hold you in my arms and soothe the pain I have inflicted. For, in inflicting pain, I feel it. The thought of it makes me cry. 
 
I am in this hurricane of extreme emotions. There is no relief, no solace for any peace. You push me to the wall, makes me look at you, acknowledge the fact that I need you, that I love you and and then walk out, no word, no looking back.

What am I doing to myself?

I close this journey with you…another will begin.

Hopefully.
 
Sandy

Friday, February 27, 2015

The Dilemma of the Round Roti

2 comments:
Really? When I was told by a friend that is what #Indispire topic for the week is, I said "Whaaat?" Yep. That is what I did. I was greatly amused and I sat smiling and wondering what to write. What does one write about "Do round rotis taste better than non-round ones?" My mind wandered. I realized that I hadn't seen the round of a roti for ages. In short, I hadn't cooked one for ages! The last I had a roti was...well, not in the recent weeks at least. For a Punjabi, that amounts to ages. 

I sat mulling over the realization even as my dog Nike looked on reminding me that he had not had one either. (He likes to be involved and absolutely loves parathas!)

Sure enough, this morning, I woke, quietly ignored the easy cooking of rice and opted to give my meal for the afternoon a little effort and make roti instead. A TV show by Vikas Khanna where he sits in a Ratnagiri kitchen watching the Puran Poli Aunty make perfect round ones flashed in my head. I love puran polis (slathered in ghee...Sin! Utter sin I tell you!). You get the drift.

Making plain rotis would be easy but I got more adventurous and boiled green peas to mash it with a few aromatic spices and make simple 'round' parathas for lunch instead. They were perfect; round, small, beautifully dotted with green stuffing. I am hungry already but I will wait for lunch to relish them. Would I be hungry still if they were not perfectly round or were shaped more like the map of India or Africa or whatever else? Of course! They would still taste as good, be a piece of art but, no, I would frown if I was served with that in a high end restaurant. Hmm. 

They would look different yes, but they would taste the same. 

Gratitude. You actually went through my ramblings. 

If this makes to a top post, I will be be Indispired to make more. 

*grin*

- Sandy

Friday, February 13, 2015

Freedom's Price

16 comments:
He rummaged around in a frenzy while she watched. Just back from a great evening with a friend, she had been telling him about it. While she talked, he got up, searching for something, asking her questions about how she had felt, where she went, what they spoke about. She happily narrated the amazing evening she had, connecting up surprisingly well with the new friend she had made, telling him how refreshing it was to find someone to discuss literature with for a change. 

At some point, she stopped, realizing he had stopped hunting for whatever he was looking for. He stood a distance away with a crepe bandage in his hand that he had unwound the length of. She had loaned it to him when he had twisted his ankle a couple of days, perhaps a week, ago. 

"What are you doing?" she asked, a sense of foreboding coursing through her veins. The air was suddenly ominous and she hated the fear that crept inside her stomach, an eddy of trepidation that coursed through her and ran her body cold. 

She tried to get up.

"Sit." he ordered. She sat back, petrified.

A pair of scissors in his hands cut the bandage into two. That was however not what stopped her short, choking her breath and intimidated her. It was his eyes, watching her, in a cold murderous gaze while he began to slowly wrap the bandages around his hands, slowly, deliberately, never once taking his eyes off her. She held his gaze, feeling the bile rise to her throat slowly. She was spiralling into a space she didn't want to be in and fought hard to keep her calm.

He had not answered.

"Why are are you tying bandage on your hands? Are you hurt?" she asked again, amazed that her voice came out without the chill she felt inside her. 

"Do you know," he said smiling, eyes still not leaving her, "You wrap something around you and then put on your gloves for boxing? It prevents bruising."

She let go a breath slowly, realizing she had been holding it a while, relaxing a bit.

"Are you going somewhere for practice?" she asked. He was a fitness fanatic and she played around with the possibility even as he spoke.

"I don't need to." he said, stepping closer to where she was seated on the worn-out sofa. "I can practice right here."

She smiled and later would recall the irony of that smile. 

A million stars blinded her as the first punch hit her nose throwing her head back, her neck turning to the side as she realized she was his punching bag. Her face was pounding with the first hit and then came another, which she tried to duck but the punch managed to graze her cheek. 

Oh God! What was wrong with him? Pain seared through while she tried to get herself to stay calm. So far, she had not screamed and she shuddered at her capacity to withstand physical pain. Stop! Stop! Please stop!

She managed to get out of the sofa and ran to reach the door. She needed to get out. This man had gone mad. Her head spun with the shock of it, with the stupefying realization of the reality that the man who said he loved her had turned into a jealous raving madman who was unleashing unfettered violence on her. She needed to get out. 

He swung her around a few meters away from the door. That is when she lost track of the pain. The punches came without a break, her back against the wall he had pushed her to, her ribs cracking, breaking, and the kicks landed on her pelvis and that hurt. It was as if a stubbornness began filling her up. She refused to scream or cry. He did not stop until her legs gave way, and she slid onto the floor, curling up, blood soaking up on her t-shirt, the size of the blotch increasing as her hazy vision struggled to stay aware of what was around her. 

"You went out with a man?" he blazed. 

"I asked you if I could and you encouraged me remember?" she responded quietly, salty blood seeping out from the corner of her mouth. She sat up on the floor, her arms holding her knees and she realized she was swaying, as if singing herself a lullaby. She needed some rhythm to keep her composure. She would not cry. She did not want to give him that satisfaction. It took all of her energy, but she held on. She needed to hear it from him even though she had it figured out by then that this man was insanely jealous that she had gone out with one of his friends for coffee.

"So?" he retorted, his eyes still cruel, bearing down on her, without sympathy at what he had just done to her. 

"This doesn't make sense. It was just coffee!" she replied. Pain was throbbing through her and she dared not raise her hand to even touch her face. It felt ripped apart. She inwardly prayed it was lesser damage than she felt. 

"You don't understand, do you?" he said, a short laugh and sarcasm dripping together. She looked at him then, a question in her eyes, pain set aside for that instance. 

"I own you." he continued. "You will always be my slave and do you know why?"

She waited. 

"If you ever refuse me, for anything, or even so much as look at another man, no man will ever want you. I will make sure of it. I will tell them all about you; every little detail, all of it. If you ever tell anyone I hit you, I will destroy you."

Sitting on the bare floor, cold seeping to her bones, she believed him. With a sickening heartache, she knew he meant it. He was capable of it. She wanted to get out. She needed to find her strength to end it all. 

He raved, ranted, telling her about how he thought she was a cheap whore, telling her about other women he was sleeping with, about how he didn't love her. She believed he didn't. Love is not this. She listened. She made no move. She had been trapped into this relationship, a fly who unwittingly got caught into the spider's web and wasn't able to leave thereafter. It had been months and she hadn't found a way to come out of this clean. She felt dirty and knew nothing could cleanse her spirit. it was that thought that scared her the most. 

Finally he stopped talking, watching her. She sat, staring at him, dead eyes, not giving him a reaction to his endless tirade. 

"Get out." he said. "Go clean up. Not a word to anyone."

She got up, surprised to manage on her own. The cold breeze hit her face as she stepped out into the darkness. It was late she noticed, relieved that she would hopefully not cross anyone on the way back to her apartment. She lived down the street and she found her way into the bathroom, managing to drag herself to the mirror. 

Her eyes remained shut, afraid of what she would see. 

He was right. 

The damage was more internal. Her nose had bled onto the t-shirt and her cheek was slightly grazed. a cut on the top of her nose looked like it needed attention but she would manage that. The t-shirt came off and she could see the bruises forming, below her breasts, a red welt on her pelvis was sign of another injury. She knew they would be blue by morning. All she wanted was to be able to treat her nose without having the doctor ask her too many questions. 

A couple of lies about hitting her nose on the door and falling, she managed to get through the doctor. It had taken all her strength to not squirm, or limp. Broken nose. 

She would have to live with that. It was a reminder to never let a man ever hit her. 

A week later, she walked on the street and ran into him. It had been a week since that night he had broken her nose. 

"Why haven't you shown up bitch?" he asked. "I hope you haven't told anyone."

She looked up at him. "No, I haven't," she said, her voice calm and without emotion. "Isn't that obvious considering you are not in jail?"

He smirked. 

"Also," she added, resolve and strength in her voice, "I am not sure what you will do, but I am dumping you. I am not your slave and I never will be."

His eyes blazed. "Why you..." and he stopped as a group of youngsters passed by. 

"Never been dumped, have you?" she asked, putting as much sarcasm into her voice as she could. "Well then...here is your first."

She did not wait for him to respond. She turned and walked away, head held high, back to her apartment. Her heart was resounding. She thought it would burst. She managed to shut the door behind her as her legs became jelly and gave way. She slid down to the floor, thankful to whatever had given her strength to face him. She smiled for the first time in days. 

She was scarred but alive. She let out a sigh,the dam broke...and the tears never stopped. 

Copyright @Sandy2015










Monday, February 2, 2015

I Am Someone's Soulmate

6 comments:
The belief in a soul mate cannot exist if one doesn't believe in souls, that we are all souls in transit on Earth, each seeking another that will complete us. Even at that, with those who believe in souls, see the existence of soul mates in a different light. Soul mates - of passion, love, friendship, desire, happiness, peace, serendipity, chaos...what have you.

Yes, if you ask me, soul mates do exist. They may not be life partners. But here, how do you define a life partner? Does that person have to live with you under the same roof? Be committed to you? Marry you? Are those people who connect to your soul either way not bound to you? Are they ever away from the depths of your soul? Romance is simply an add on. Soul mates - who are they really?

I am not sure how the world views this thing about soul mates. I can however tell you how it works for me, what it means to me. Is a soul mate really the love of your life? We may never really figure that out. I know soul mates are the eternal source of your evolving into the real you. For me, there is no single soul mate. If there is, I have yet to really be absorbed by that. I have soul mates. Yes.

Let me tell you about my soul mates. They are the people I connect with more than anyone else. They are not just limited to men. These are the people who understand me as perfectly as anyone can; some of them are people I have never met in my life and there is a virtual connect that can put a lot of real relationships to utter shame. These are people I confide in without a second thought; tell them things I wouldn't tell another. Truth is, I believe, my soul is so vast that each soul mate who touches my life covers a part of my life and touches it in a way no one else ever can. Perhaps, that is why there are so many. They are meant to touch a certain part of my life. Perhaps, when all of me has been covered by all these soul mates, somewhere there will be one who I will seek thereafter and know that this is the one. This is theory though, a line of thought I am keeping aside.

Do I tell one single person everything? Is that the basis of qualifying as a soul mate? I do not know. I know there are a few people who I can tell everything to. Do I though do that despite knowing I can? Perhaps not. Soul mates for me come in all kinds. The dark one who sees the darkness in me and doesn't judge me. The positive one who never lets me doubt myself. The pain-ridden one who makes me walk through my pain and allows me to befriend it. The loving unconditionally one that is always there when I reach out. The one that laughs at my silliness and adores my streaks of madness. The one who encourages me a step beyond my own belief. 

The choices we make, the road we walk, the bridges we cross, the pinnacles we stand alone on, the possibilities of someone touching your life is always there. Only, you have to open your soul to it. The soul will seek you. You have to enable it to be sought. Have no fear. The soul knows no fear. Seek not to change yourself to someone you are not. The wrong idea of a soul mate can lead to all kinds of madness. It is true. It is terribly sad.

Soul mates. They belong to everyone. They belong to no one. They will always be in the periphery of your life. They will let you be. They will embrace, hug, cuddle, nudge, push, pull, badger, laugh, smile, sit with you in utter serenity, invoke passions of unbridled love and lust, calm your spirit and hush your tears away. In each friend, there is a soul mate. In each life mate, sometimes there are no traces of this.

All I know is that this is my reality. I am someone's soul mate for sure. Maybe I will not be a life mate. But, a soul mate? Sure!

- Sandy

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Whatever

2 comments:
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