Soar(ing) over the Kingdoms of the Earth

Well, he’s gone and done it again.

If you’ve been following my rants, you’ve probably come across my rants (for they are rants and not "reviews" as I have trouble taking myself all too seriously to call myself a "reviewer") on Cadence of Your Tears and then The Ascetic Paradox. And if you have come across those rants you’re probably familiar with Sanjeev Niles already - the talented fellow who could have made us open-mouthed lot topple over with one flick of his fingernail after hearing his music for the very first time. If you haven’t read the rants (how dare you mortals ignore the noble and wise words of The Lady!) I suggest you go and read them now for he is an artist quite worth knowing.  

In this era of the Great Plastic Plague, finding something that moves you is practically impossible. Everything has been turned to plastic - people, friendships, relationships, the thing that we gloat and label as love, nothing really moves us anymore and we in turn, have built up an internal resistance, a sort of an outer shell if you may, to protect ourselves from the dry and harsh wastelands that life has now become. And unfortunately, the more delicate forms of art like music and literature too have been thus touched by this great moldering hand of demise and decay. But once in a while comes a song, an exquisite creature on luminous butterfly wings, a sheer melodious genius that literally sweeps you off your feet and sends you hurtling forward through the cosmos into a world of sublime delights.

Kingdoms of the Earth for me was one of those rare ones that left me hazy eyed for a good few minutes after the first listening. And after listening to it a good 15 times or so, (and with the song still playing in the background) I start typing this post. I wanted to share it with the world, to shout out “look here, have a long, lingering listen to this sparkling little gem spreading its wings in your cupped palms like a magical winged creature ready for its first flight!” but had to restrain myself when I was told to hold my horses as then it had not yet been officially released. So hold my horses, I did.

“In another age, in another time,

Our souls be lost,

And then you will be mine……”

The song ends on a philosophical note which had my heart in knots.

Kingdoms of The Earth is a song of longing, a song of pain, but with a sweet lacing of hope that pierces through its quaint romantic heart which bleeds out poetry in whoever that hears it. It starts off softly, with the distant wailing of the violin punctured by weighty piano notes. Sanjeev’s deep baritone gently touches this harmony at first. And then it plunges and soars, plunges and soars taking your heart along with it into the faraway lands soar(ing) over the Kingdoms of the Earth. The deep, resonating drums beat like a heartbeat in the varied background – earthy and necessary, strangely echoing the profound thump of Sanjeev’s voice at the places where it ceases its smooth gliding across the notes, leaving space for thoughts to stream in. It’s an invocation uttered in the deep and cavernous vaults of the earth, it is a beacon of hope, like moonlight filtering through the foliage, it is an imploration that even the most hard-hearted cannot ignore. Simply said, it is capable of moving mountains and oceans with the emotions it summons forth.    

It is layered, it is accentuated at places that leaves your heart in your throat at times, it is hauntingly beautiful, so lusciously resounding that it cedes delicious echoes resonating within your whole being. It is the bitter-sweet pain of all the lost loves in the world rolled together with that undying hope of unrequited love – toothsome, yet sad. It pulls you apart at the same time draws you within yourself and leaves you warm and cozy, a fragile bird nesting within its homely stead. Like Cadence, it has those unmistakable gothic nuances that I have now begun to understand as Sanjeev’s own watermark. And what a wonderful watermark it is!  

Kingdoms of the Earth has an unmistakable medieval feel to it with a touch of Celtic magic and you cannot help but have image reels of mist robed, hazy highlands, high stone castles and medieval knights on valiant steeds running nonstop through your head. This especially speaks to my heart, and not surprisingly so, given my long standing infatuation with the Celts and their healing music as well as my romance with all things lovely and medieval. I mean, who doesn’t like dungeons and dragons and swords and bloody battles!

And the most fascinating thing about the song? That it does not even need lyrics! You see, when it sings of fading candlelight you have already seen the flickering flames in your head. When it sings of breath on neck you almost feel the slight breeze touching your skin in the darkness, even before the actual words had registered in your mind. The music has already set the mood, the tone and the situation and this to me is pure (and very rare) genius - combining meaning with sound, creating the exact mood, catering to the exact words. Simply marvelous. 

      

Needless to say Sanjeev has an exceptional voice - powerful, evocative, earthy and piercing, all at the same time. Therefore at certain places I have felt that the potential of these behemothic lungs has not been applied full charge in this particular song. Personally I would have liked a bit of punch towards the end, for the music to die a natural death and the voice to take charge and create a memorable vocal imprint upon the mind. I would have liked the vocal chords to have opened at full blast and wail out the pain, the anger in one powerful, excruciating stroke. On the other hand I can argue it the other way as well. A song about lost love requires softness, a sort of nostalgia, a yearning for the past. It must need that delicate ending and indeed it ends in a longing note. If that was Sanjeev’s take on the song, he has accomplished it rather marvelously. And further goes on to display the individual’s versatility of voice in giving wings to a rather heavyweight baritone. Therefore in this I remain conflicted.     

   

This song did not come as a surprise. Having proven his prowess with Cadence, I should say that we expected nothing less. And true to his nature, he did not disappoint at the least. And being a part of a larger collection (an album) this song has only made us impatient to hear the rest.

And as for Sanjeev and all this very apparent talent that has just been lying around undetected, undemonstrated, I have just one single sentiment I would like to express. As my partner very spontaneously exclaimed after the first hearing of the song, I shall now echo his exact words. Sanjeev, “WHERE the HELL have you been hiding men?”    

Listen, watch, enjoy. I present you "The Kingdoms of the Earth"

Bridal Diaries - Chapter 1

And so the wedding frenzy begins. Sigh.

Me in all my naivety had thought that a wedding is all about putting on a dress, looking pretty and just showing up at the event. But apparently, that doesn't even scratch the surface.

So there I sat in the waiting room of the designated seamstress the other day, amongst other bridezillas obsessing over the lace hems, hooks and button holes, thinking to myself how the hell I ended up here. You see, being a bride involves frequent visits to the aforementioned seamstress for wise words on sari falls, necklines and arm lengths and also advise on how a bride must always cover herself from top to bottom for the fear of *gasp* exposing some skin to one's relations. At this point, you somehow accept that the designated seamstress pretty much dictates your life - from the day that you have the misfortune of meeting her to the day before the wedding (for that is when the final fit on will be), she will be your mentor, your guide and basically, your not-so-fairy-like Fairy God Mother.

My seamstress (in fact her resemblance to the evil Fairy God Mother from Shrek is rather uncanny) has opinions on pretty much everything. Standing only up to my waist this bespectacled creature lances forth her wisdom pearls from everything between your diet, your choice of partner in life to your collarbones (she has made it a point that she does not like the angle at which they stick out), she jumps up and down measuring my shoulders to my elbow to my ankle to my hip, also making it a point to make her displeasure at my height quite plain. It kills you that you can't even be the usual wisecrack that you are and will have to take it all with the gracious obedient "bridal smile" (a particularly smug faraway half-smile that I have come to know from being around other brides-to-be) because she will probably sew the jacket too tight and quite literally put you in a straight jacket right throughout the function (or curse your first child to become an Ogre) if you are not nice.

For a girl who vowed to herself that she would die before succumbing to all that flowery puffy frilly-ness, I have come a long way.

I have come to accept the inevitable - that your wedding is really your parents wedding and that any pleas for a simple one (where the savings could be donated to moi for a world exploration expedition!) would only fall on deaf ears. I have had my say in the hotel choice, I have had my choice in my clothing and I have had my say in not having any bridesmaids/bestmen. And now I shut up and wait.

From an emotional point of view, understandable really. It is touching how much they enjoy all the planning and you kind of sit down and accept it all because the knowledge of having to leave them behind (even if you don't leave them behind, the time you spent as their little girl will never be the same again) just hurts too much. I am the only girl in the family and they want to throw a big bash for their little girl. For all that they have done for me and still do, (and also considering the fact that I haven't been a very obedient child) the least that I can do is give them a big, tight hug and obey. Just this once.

The ordeals I've been put through for the past couple of weeks - where do I begin.To make it short, the measurements have been given, the sari chosen, a simple (and inexpensive) one that I could even wear for a special occasion afterwards (practically walked into a shop, pointed to a saree, walked out), the cards printed (sweaty trips to Pettah rummaging through dusty piles of wedding cards belonging to couples of centuries past and trying to decide on what seemed the least cheesy, deciding between C's and J's and the perfect fonts and font colours). To cut a long story short, let's just say that I know the difference between goldenrod, Cal Poly Pomona Gold, Sunglow and Golden Poppy now.

Walked into a salon the other day to get my usual eyebrow trimming session and it just so happened to slip my mother's mouth that I am getting married. The beautician, (who by the way we DIDN'T consult) had so much of advice to give and I wondered why she hadn't found her spot in an early morning housewives' beauty program yet. Looking at me up and down I can almost hear the machines in her head whirring and I could feel her eyes boring through my clothes scrutinizing every inch of my body (I now know how an insect feels under a microscope). After a long, seemingly never ending and arduous 5 minutes or so (which seemed like an eternity) she finally speaks in her grown up voice. Apparently, you need to be spick and span on the day of the wedding so as not to repel the groom. You need to be completely hairless (and surprise, surprise she offers waxing services) and certain areas in the body need to be completely melanin-free (well what d'ya know, she happens to offer bleaching services too!). Needless to say she isn't hired.

I am thankful for the girl I have hired to dress me. A no-nonsense girl out of my own heart who shares my worldview that one does not have to be skinned alive and boiled twice in order to become a bride. She has been my go-to person for haircuts and special occasions dressing for years, so I am comfortable with her judgement to not make me put the Bride of Frankenstein to shame on the very day that I am supposed to look my best.

It's a big change, it's a new life. Am I terrified? Not really. Well, a little maybe.

I'm not terrified because I am going to be married to my best friend and partner in crime of 7 years. Being the introvert that I am, there was a time that I feared that I may not be able to completely open up to anyone but he makes it so easy. There are no pretensions between us - he likes me in my PJs and no make up better than when I am dressed to kill and I take him whichever way he wants to be, multicoloured shorts, ridiculous tshirts and all. We've been through a lot and tackled some tough times together so come what may, I am sure we will find a way to work our way around anything that life throws at us. It will be like living together with your best friend but only better. He will be mine to torture whenever I liked! *Thunderclap and sinister laughter ensues*

What I am terrified of is the extended family. A whole host of unknown people who will suddenly become my relations by law, the compulsory small talk, the social events and the works. Not that they are bad people, they are awesome people but I am a bad person who is terrified of crowds. My small world will be invaded by battalions of well meaning friendlies and being the introvert that I am, this is worse than death itself. The touching, the hugging the kissing, the proximity - I do not like being touched and abhor any kind of physical contact with people that I am not close to who invade my personal space. It is torture of the most heinous nature. If you are an introvert you will know what I mean. (So know that if I willingly hug you, it is a great privilege and that you mean something to me.)

I am also terrified of change.

I am a creature of habit. I get up at a certain time, get ready, have my breakfast, come home, eat, sleep - I have my routine. Now with this impending marriage, this carefully manicured routine, my wonderfully cocooned life is going to be disrupted. A completely new residence - or two - we still haven't decided on lodging, this not being able to put down roots and to truly call it home - I am territorial and it bothers me that things are going to change. That I will have to leave my familiar and comfortable book-lined messy room behind at least for a little while. That I will no longer be my parents' little girl and that even though we may live with them from time to time, things may not be the same. I am not comfortable. In fact, I am extremely uncomfortable. I cling desperately to my familiar things. And I find myself doing that unconsciously even now.

And I know nothing about sharing a room.

Sharing a bathroom, sharing closet space, sharing dressing table space - all these are strange and foreign concepts to me. I've had my own room ever since I was 3 and I've been independent, more so than the average girl my age. My books, my clothes, my paraphernalia, all over the room, everything is every where, my own mess, mess that I am familiar with. When sharing, I don't think you can be messy. This is a whole new concept that I may have to get used to. It's going to be hard and there's going to be a lot of annoying things that I will have to deal with - like wet bathroom floors, soggy carpets, dirty towels on the floor, my books being tampered with and etc. And I am trying so very hard to convince myself that it is all going to be worth it.

To make matters even worse, it is a very stressful period at work as well. Also, I am in the middle of an assignment, with another assignment falling smack in the middle of the wedding period. This is not helping. At all.

Well, here I am on the brink of the biggest adventure of my life complaining. Shush you coward! Thou shalt face this like a girl! Better yet, like a woman! After all, they say that a teabag never knows how strong it is until it gets into hot water.

Or is it a woman they mean? 

2015 in a nutshell

2015 has been life changing. Quite literally.

Being a Scorpio, my life has always been one of fate. And fate has been at its very peak this year. Fateful encounters albeit troublesome leading to the enrichment and the closer bonding of other fateful relationships (although they came a little too late), a greater clarity in matters, revelations, enlightenment, it's been a roller coaster of emotions, blows of reality and moments of sheer ethereal quality. I have also (finally) gotten in touch of my inner witch - the healing, creating part of me that has always been overshadowed by other things - this period of life has been a turning point, again, quite literally.

Peckishme is doing really well! I've had to take some time off it due to personal reasons, but the response I am receiving is rather overwhelming. The Facebook page has boomed too and for a blog that is only about 8 months old, it's doing rather well on the ranking side of things as well. An Innocent sense of self satisfaction. Incomparable joy. This is my baby - my product of sweat, blood and many, MANY sleepless nights. Juggling a full time job, an MBA, personal obligations and my own personal creative writing ain't exactly a cake walk.

Put a like to its facebook page and show some lurrrve! I post two recipes a week and occasional restaurant reviews. Come check it out. I hope you like it :)  

On a related subject, 2015 is also the year that I got in touch with my Green thumb. I started off with four plants - rosemary, thyme, basil and lavender just a few months back and today I am the proud cultivator of almost every herb I ever need to indulge my need for flavour, flavour, flavour! Rosemary (two varieties), lavender (hasn't flowered yet, but soon), thyme (two types), oregano, basil (3 varieties), marjoram, parsley (two types), mint (all types), Kaffir lime, you name it. I don't need to purchase the herbs I need now from the supermarket - I am self-sufficient! And the feeling it gives you - priceless. Now I have moved on from herbs (because they can now take care of themselves) to salad items (rocket, lettuce - 2 varieties, spinach, cherry tomatoes - I already have little unripe tomatoes on it!) and just today I planted seeds for beetroot, Chinese cabbage, dill and radish. I also have a packet of winged beans but mother says they need to be planted on the ground. We will find a suitable spot and then plant them. Oh this is all very exciting!

Mother says I've always had the green thumb. Even when I was a child, I remember my mother getting me to plant the hard-to grow plants with my hands because she believed that I had "the touch". Mother herself being a bit on the witchy side (her amazing cooking skills, her healing touch, her way with plants, her scarily accurate intuition and this creepy ability to tell exactly what's on your mind most of the time), I can only assume that I inherited it from her. But the weirdest part is, I had never been fond of gardening - actually up to this point I loathed it! But right now, the thought of new plants, seeds, the touch of soil and new leaves sprouting just excites me like nothing ever excited me before. It is a lovely feeling, to see the fruits of your labour, to know that these are your creations and using them in your dishes, especially being the health food freak that I am, the feeling you get is indescribable. Now I am convinced that all I want to do is to stay home, grow my own food and cook with them! I suppose this is my inner healer emerging, this desire to create expanding itself, a desire for a greater bond with nature, to rejoice in things blooming and blossoming. It's a remarkable change - especially considering the fact that I considered gardening to be my least favourite thing in the world only a few months back!

And for all this I need to thank my favourite soulmate who is now my fiancé. He influenced me with his interest in growing fruits (also recent interest) and dragged me about with him to plant nurseries till I finally succumbed to the call. They say that soulmates lead you to your life's true calling, whether it be kicking and screaming and I guess this, is exactly what happened here. And I am grateful.

Just arrived from Chennai a week back. Having lived there for more than a year, the visit was every bit as nostalgic as it was delightful. The roads had badly corroded due to the recent floods but other than that, there is absolutely no sign that such floods had taken place at all. Things haven't changed much. But we got a peek into the real Chennai this time, something which I haven't experienced during the time we lived there - which was somewhat heartbreaking.

I recall the time I lived at Chennai to be the happiest time of my life. I was fascinated by the culture, the rawness of it all, I did everything that I wanted to do, ate everything I wanted to and for once in my life, I had no obligations, no responsibilities. But I don't think back then I got a taste of the real Chennai life. Truth be told, I led a pampered and semi-charmed life there at the time - a driver drove me around to pretty much wherever I wanted to go and I had everything I ever needed at my beck and call without having to lift a finger. Yes there were the times I wandered off on my own and saw the things that I did and experienced them briefly as well, but they left only fleeting impressions and were overshadowed by the many privileges I enjoyed. Cushioned by luxury, nothing really struck me as truly tragic back then. Which was a tragedy in itself.

But this time around being Christmas and everyone being out of town, (even our trusty Ramachandran and Babuji who would come running every time we visit and employ people to be everything between chauffeurs, chaperons and translators for us *sulk*), we had to manage pretty much everything by ourselves. Taxis had no air conditioning (or finding one with A/C was practically impossible) so we soon resorted to getting about by tuk, braving the dry, dusty winds in our faces. (And as a die hard tuk tuk patron here in SL, when I say the heat and the dust is bad, I mean unbearable) The class difference is at times too incredible, the plight of the poor - unbelievable. Some worse than animals, defecating where they sleep and cooking and eating on the same spot. The jolt to reality was so sudden and necessary.

Yet it is many times better than Pakistan where it smells of rotting meat, blood and pure hostility everywhere you go. Utter unadulterated sexism where women are insignificant and discriminated against (I was constantly berated at school which was an "international" school for not covering my head even though I am a Buddhist), uncleanliness, racism and a blatant disregard for personal hygiene, unequivocal violence (one of my classmate's father was found chopped to pieces in a garbage pile and my father's colleague, a gentle lady was burnt to death by the husband over a dowry matter, all within the scope of a few months. Sharia "Law" was silent in all these cases), sexual harassment (I was barely 12 years old and still I was groped by various creatures who call themselves 'men' many times) and a "religion" that preaches you must slit the throats of innocent animals and wash the house with that blood in order to appease "Allah" - these are my memories of Pakistan. Suffice to say, these traumatic experiences pretty much made up my mind about the country and the "religion" in question from a very young age itself.

Chennai on the other hand is a city that I love. It has a unique fragrance, a combination of sweetness (think Pure ghee Indian sweets. So yum!), saffron, sandalwood and jasmine flowers adorning the hair of the female folk. In fact, the clothes that I packed for the trip still smell of these amazing smells taking me back there. The sound of vedic mantras being chanted, ringing bells at the time of the pooja - this is to me, the picture of pleasantness. Chennai is mostly a pure vegetarian city - despite the uncleanliness in certain part of it, the whole place seems somewhat cleansed and holy. Yes, this view of the city maybe extremely contrasting with the mental picture that most people have of the place but I for one, knowing the city all too well, know that it is a city with an innocent soul, and an endearing one at that.

The most remarkable thing about the city is its people and the way that they just don't judge. You can eat your dessert with rice, wear your wedding dress to the supermarket or wear a tie with shorts and I don't think anyone would bat an eyelid. They are quirky like that. And it is truly liberating - to be utterly and ridiculously without manners or etiquette, even for a limited amount of time. I think we all need that in our lives.

On other news, 2015 is also the year when I discovered the short stories I've written many years ago and rediscovered my interest in the art. It is also the year when I ditched my almost complete novel and started on a new one, one that I am convinced is my true masterpiece. It is also the year when I made a significance change in my career - the best decision I've ever made in my life I believe (which was a very VERY difficult one too) and as a result, today, I am truly content with what I do. I believe that I have found my forever home :) So all in all, 2015 had been good to me. Apart from the few dramatic episodes which seemed to make no sense at the time but ended up making a whole lot of sense, 2015 also convinced me that everything really does happen for a reason.

And that the reason is always a good one :)

So here's to a better 2016 (which is going to be a mighty eventful one, hint hint!) and one that will make us all realize our true potential - as human beings, as earthly creatures of creativity and of creation. It is a never-ending journey that we are on, and we are constantly discovering ourselves, just when we think we know it all. And 2015 has been a year that proved to me that there are so many things that I am yet to learn - and most of all about myself. It was the year that my ego was shed, and my eyes were opened to new things, things I believe, that will be important in the years to come.