Stranger than blood, Closer than stars...

 Sharing one of my favourite stories on this Valentine Day!

https://www.wattpad.com/793052505-stranger-than-blood-closer-than-stars 

KUNDALAKESI'S RANTS

                          Ungrateful Bonehead

I hate it when a man tries to blame a woman driver for his 'miss by a whisker' escape. Why can't he ever thank the woman as his timely saviour? Have you ever heard a man say, if it was not for her, I wouldn't be alive now! I bet that is very rare indeed!

So, once it so happened that I had the misfortune of travelling with a painfully opinionated man who was lamentably my friend's husband. We were travelling from Delhi to Jaipur for a wedding and I had to endure three hours of his balderdash on; you guessed it right, the current political scenario of the country. While his indignation rose, the needle on the speedometer too moved up. I nudged my friend to check his speed. 

However, to my utter dismay, he dismissed her warning and continued his diatribe. 

Far ahead of us, I noticed a road from the left joining the highway. There was no traffic signal at that point. Unless our car slowed down, there was every chance of a crash if a vehicle drove from the left towards the highway. I was quite tense and hoped that the dimwit would slow down. I even cautioned him with much wariness. He tossed an unpleasant glance at me through the rear-view mirror, reminding me that I had no knowledge of the controls of that particular car which was apparently imported from Korea. 

I sighed gloomily, wishing I had opted for a solo trip in a state-run bus or Uber or Ola or whatever... other than this. My friend turned around, giving me a conciliatory smile, which led to another train of thoughts. Why should a wife be apologetic for her husband’s behaviour? Heaving a long sigh at my never-ending rage, I kept quiet, smothering the turbulent thoughts that were clamouring for release.

On the edge of my seat now, I hoped that my friend would plant some sense into her husband's thick head. Because I pointed out that he needed to slow down, his chauvinistic mind refused to comply. Instead, he pressed his foot harder on the accelerator. 

As we inched closer to the intersection, (my heart praying that no vehicle shows up), a white and sleek beauty whizzed past us, forcing our man to slow down. The driver of the Maserati, yes, you guessed it right, a woman, raced across the intersection, once again forcing the driver of a station wagon which was coming from the road on the left to brake his vehicle. While both the male drivers swore aloud, the Maserati surged ahead happily, oblivious to the fact that she had saved an otherwise imminent collision between two vehicles.

All the way to our destination, my friend's husband kept calling the woman driver names; and accepted dismally that if he had owned a car like that, he too would have driven like her. However, his masculine ego was not willing to accept that a woman drove much skilfully and splendidly, and saved all of us from an undoubtful crash. 

Who could tell an obstinate man like him that a car is not just a man's toy? A woman too can play with it. 

I suppose she had evoked his envy and male desire to own and control something as untameable as her or her Maserati. Before we reached the destination, I called him all kinds of names... of course in my head; only my consideration for my friend stopped me from saying them aloud.

Like you guessed, I avoided the return trip with them. I took a cab whose driver, to my horror, declared that all women drivers were a menace on the road. I wanted to bang his head on the windshield. Luckily my rage did not spill over and I reached home in one piece. So much for much needed break from my work!

Now, those of you who know my name must be wondering who this Kundalakesi is.... Well, that story is for another time...

Till then, stay safe....

 

 

  

Honoured and grateful to receive the Sharing Stories Book Award for 'A Blue Moon Interlude' 

Across the other side...

 

The warm ocean waters tempted Hemadri to dip herself into its depth and luxuriate in its abyss. Often, Hemadri and her boyfriend, Rauf had swum in the sea. A wistful sigh escaped her as she wished that Rauf was by her side. At once, she censured herself for the self-indulgent yearning. How wicked could she get?

Turning her face away from the ocean, her gaze fell on the flock of birds that were taking off to another place. These birds followed the coastline to migrate. They had no borders or boundaries to cross. They moved freely and nested in a place they could survive. Hemadri wished humans too had similar freedom. With an indulgent smile, she watched the flock till she lost sight of them.  

She crossed the verdant stretch of land that was home to the rarest flora and fauna and came across River Ichamati, the river that formed a natural border between India and Bangladesh. The trans-boundary watercourse meandered its way through parts of India and Bangladesh forming a natural boundary between the two countries. Hemadri did not have to worry about crossing the border because the boundary did not exist for her. She was happy to wander in a borderless world where one did not have to fill endless forms or count on the officials guarding the boundary, for permission.

As an immigrant in the UK, she had faced innumerable difficulties. Like they say, adversities impel humans to migrate and seek shelter elsewhere. Similarly, around the time when the Windrush generation fled the Caribbean countries to the United Kingdom, Hemadri’s grandparents too sought refuge, escaping the terrible aftermath of a newly partitioned India. United Kingdom had then formed a new act which gave right of settlement to any native migrating from a British colony. Hence, Hemadri had grown up in an environment where she was not certain if she was a Brit, a British Indian, an Indian or an Indian Briton. She had spent her school years trying to fathom her identity. Consequently, she began to dislike questions on her ethnicity despite having friends from all races.

Hemadri’s social network profiles showed her location as Planet Earth. In one forum, she wrote her current place of location as somewhere in the northern hemisphere of the planet, and in the column where she had to write her home-town, she wrote ‘hailing from the youngest ranges of mountains on the earth.’ Her parents had named her after the mountains. Her profile described her as homosapien, for she believed in the human species rather than the nationality. 

Hemadri’s radical beliefs often sent her on a warpath with her peers, colleagues, and sometimes even her mother. Hemadri wished that instead of creating more boundaries, the world would unite as one to save the planet.

Rauf hailed from Bangladesh. He was an illegal immigrant in the UK and struggled to get a proper job. His family lived in Bangladesh. Often, when Hemadri and Rauf met, he would describe his homeland with nostalgia. His village was located on the banks of the river Ichamati and he would lovingly draw a picture of the river for Hemadri. His parents longed to cross the boundary and move to India so that they could earn a better life. Many a time, Rauf had voiced his frustration at the boundaries created by the prevailing politics. With boundaries arose conflicting needs to gain access to natural and mineral wealth. When borders were formed, some were stranded in nations left with nothing and others were nurtured by the fortunes that rose to abundance in their part of the region. Ultimately, it resulted in one being in the right place at the right time.

A year ago, Rauf’s parents died as their boat capsized in Ichamati river while trying to enter India. Rauf was detained at Heathrow airport immediately upon trying to leave the country for his parents’ funeral. He was taken to a detention centre and Hemadri hadn’t met him since then.

Now, as she sat on the banks of the river, she remembered the terrible year with forlorn agony. Unable to watch her parents’ depression, she had travelled to this part of the world. Thoughts of her family directed her to her mother’s explanation about borders. Hemadri had been an excellent artist and she used to make rangolis with admirable skill. Her mother had initiated her into the art of making rangolis. And whenever she had made them, her mother would insist that she draw a border around the rangoli.

Hemadri and her mother used to argue about the border. Hemadri would claim that borders take away the beauty of the art and her mother would snap back that borders ensured that the drawing was not marred by any external disruption.

Each time they debated about it, Hemadri would end up losing the argument. Hemadri could never discern her mother’s logic. So, to prove her point, Hemadri would take part in rangoli competitions conducted by the Indian diaspora and draw designs without borders. Ironically, the only time she won the contest was when she had made a border.

That day, her mother had explained, “Beta, we draw borders to discourage aggression. It would not give others freedom to walk over our space.”

Hemadri had not been convinced. Her mother had been naïve enough to rely on the notion that borders kept one safe but Hemadri believed that one’s safety was violated by one’s own homegrown reign of terror. And she had not been wrong.

Hemadri’s dream to travel in a borderless world was fulfilled soon. No margin stopped her now. She looked at the Earth as one country; the countless borders and boundaries were not visible to her.

She wished even Rauf and her parents lived in a borderless world like her.

Six months ago, in a terrorist attack in London, Hemadri’s young life had ended, liberating her soul to enjoy a borderless world.

****************

Picture credits: Akshaya 

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My interview in the eShe magazine. Check the link given below:

https://eshe.in/2021/02/17/viji-venkat-sujata-sabnis/?fbclid=IwAR3qKIMw-mBPS3GefOVH9ytwQk8P1Zdqec-mdTDdxQwMYaCeakw6_soiuTQ

Endless Flows The Yakshagni

https://my.w.tt/tEpR145qXbb

One of my readers wanted me to write a fantasy and I dabbled in a fantasy Romance. Do check this out!

Each interaction on earth leaves a significant impact – be it with another human or another love or a stray creature or a fading star. The synergy of that intercommunication leaves one with, sometimes, distant memories and at other times, an indulgent smile or warm glow; however, it can also grip one with unpleasant thoughts, a sinking feeling or an unbearable pain. Why and how does this happen? Do the stars decide the outcome of such interplays or do the communicators absorb the energy from the interaction and give it a conclusion?

Who can define such interactions? Does such communion produce different energies that in turn, result in varied consequences eventually? Or like the mystics say, is there something beyond our understanding that connects the beings?

Loneliness strangles even when one is surrounded by loved ones and despair grasps even at the height of success. One who leads a life of love and ultimate luxury is continually searching for something that is elusive.

Grounded on earth, humans explore ways to journey across the universe, many times, in quest of answers for their unfulfilled lives. So where does that stop?

Is it when the soul connects with another? Or when two loving hearts come together from another sphere where they were not fated to join forces?

The cosmos is ever-changing and the heavenly bodies are never fixed; yet, the planets are consistently in alignment. The earth keeps rotating, exposing itself to darkness and brightness alternatively, the rivers flow and dry up, oceans engulf lands and form new coastlines but what happens to the souls that yearn to be coupled? Does the universe come together to connect them? Or is their voyage destined to continue to another period in its pursuit of the unattainable?

Ekveer and Hanneli gave up their lives for their kingdom but Yaksha Amogha believed that their odyssey would continue through time to another age. He believed that the prophecy written on the banks of the River Yakshagni would have come true if they had remained in the kingdom of Alaka. Nonetheless, Yakshagni had embraced them and carried them to a different era, and a newer world.

In the unfamiliar world, will Ekveer and Hanneli unite? Or will they have to wait for another span of time to be together?

Were they ever destined to revel in each other's love or were they always foreordained to seek love and then lose it?

If the mighty River Yakshagni, which had carried Ekveer and Hanneli to safety, had waned to an interconnecting stream of water, then, is there hope for Ekveer and Hanneli to meet and fall in love once again?

What is in store for them? Will Maurya and Dharma remember the lives of Ekveer and Hanneli?

Let us find out...

First Book , First Win!

With great pleasure, I share that my first paperback book 'A Blue Moon Interlude' has bagged the Best Fiction - Thriller/Mystery at the Coimbatore Literary Awards.