Archive for the The Ramblings Of … Category

One Door Closes, A Whole World Opens

Posted in The Ramblings Of ... on 12 August, 2010 by sonal

And so we come to an end of things. School is over, the MA passed, a writing career is ahead of me and currently I am procrastinating over a cover letter for a job application (some things will never change) …

It’s finally time to move on and bring an end to my days on Maupuia Masala. Having too much school work has already done most of that however I think I have achieved all that I wanted to with this blog.

As those of you who are still reading know, it all started with a broken heart which lead to a voyageold sights and sounds, old and new friends, lost a few folk along the way, mellowed out and became more stubborn at the same time.

It ends with a heart healed, stronger than ever and deeply in love; much of which has been kept off of this blog, probably with good reason … I feel so different to the person who started this blog that Maupuia Masala no longer fits as well as it used to.

This doesn’t meant the end to my life on the web, just the end of this particular phase. I’m moving off to Songs From The Ninth Floor, a new place where I can procrastinate while talking about writing and occasionally veering off into other things. The twitter feed won’t follow me there but it will be still active here if you want to check in and see what I’m up to.

See you on the other side.

Arohanui

s xx

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The Calling

Posted in School, The Ramblings Of ... on 21 February, 2010 by sonal

You know you’re homesick when* …

As I said in yesterday’s rant, I’m at the point where I feel I need to defend my voice or at least I now think I know what my voice isn’t (which is not as good as knowing what it is, but I’ll clutch at these few straws for now). I received a critique on how darkly I’ve been looking at the world with each draft and every time I been given the suggestion of something lighter or happier for the characters, something redeeming, I’m unable to feel the truth of that situation.

I wonder if I’m starting to fit into the idea of a cinema of unease … the style of story telling that I’m becoming more comfortable with comes from home. My story world is at home and now as I struggle with the characters and the story, I feel a need to reconnect, to stop running away from the landscape.

The mountains are calling. Dark, oppressive, foreboding, they’re calling me home. I can feel the call in my heart – every night I dream of them and the long shadows that they cast. My memories of them are not sunny or warm but cold and brooding.

This is a strange headspace to be in.

(* yes, I’m in a desperate state – I’ve got the Two Towers on for god’s sake! Yesterday it was Braindead, last week it was Eagle Vs Shark and now I wish I had a copy of Sleeping Dogs, Goodbye Pork Pie, Came A Hot Friday, Out of the Blue, The Price of Milk, In My Father’s Den …)

And We’re Back

Posted in The Ramblings Of ... on 14 September, 2009 by sonal

Months have past, visas have been gained and once more I am in Londinium.

How did I manage to get back in? A student visa, massive debt and entry into the London Film School to do an MA in Screenwriting. I start on Monday.

Looks like it’s time to take Maupuia Masala off hiatus … how else am I going to procrastinate?

Uncomfortably Numb

Posted in The Ramblings Of ... on 19 April, 2009 by sonal

It’s back. Do you remember?

I’m sitting here staring at my screen trying to get inspired, trying to write letters telling people how great I could be and yet the words aren’t flowing.

Instead there is a replay loop in my head of all the deportation stories I hear and I sit here frozen and afraid. The ‘what ifs’ are incredibly loud and having been on the receiving end of a classic Heathrow grilling, are some what amplified.

I know I’ve got to keep pushing through, but it feels so hard and I feel so very alone.

I promised I would tell you if it was coming back. Well, here I am telling you that I feel darkness all around me. It’s been growing for a couple of months now and every day the sky keeps falling. I want so very badly to go home to London, but I feel so numb that I’ve only got myself to blame if I can’t get through. Can you see the loop?

Don’t yell at me in frustration or tell me to chin up. It’s not helping. But I don’t know what will.

Silent Running

Posted in The Ramblings Of ... on 25 March, 2009 by sonal

Yes, it’s a post! Twitter has taken over (I seem to be moving slowly away from Facebook. I’d rather not use it, but everyone seems to be situated there – I wish everyone would move to Twitter instead), but there’s other stuff too …

Immigration.

I don’t want to be wrongly accused of anything by immigration authorities so I’ve been keeping my woes to myself. There are a few things involved …

One: I work in the arts industry. The centre of the arts industry is London. I had some good things just starting over there – I would have liked to see how far I could get (as it all felt like my career was taking off).

Two: I am deeply in love. And the love of my life works in the arts and lives in London – the centre of the arts industry.

Three: I no longer live in London as my working holiday visa has expired.

So now my days are spent doing applications to get my way back there. There are very few options available to me, but I’m pursuing every one I can … at the moment, every week heralds a new story announcing how immigration controls in the UK are being tightened, how the visa fees are going up, newly invented taxes I am going to face as a ‘economic migrant’ and amount of information about myself that I am going to have to give up on a single ID card (which the government will probably lose by forgetting a laptop on the train, or something … again).

Yes, I really love him. I must do to put myself through this.

In the meantime, I can’t help but ponder on the use of borders … I turn to you, internets, to explain the use of this function to me. Governments collect taxes and use them to create property rights and occasionally provide social services.

Fine.

So borders are areas that define where the taxes are collected and are spent accordingly.

Fine.

So what do immigration controls achieve?

Genuinely, I do not know. The more I think about them, the less I understand them. It stops people who want to work and pay taxes from coming into the country and I’m sure it creates population pressure as once people are in they become afraid to leave in case they can’t get back in again. Does someone out there have an answer as to why this use of a border is a good thing?

4.

Posted in My work, Random, The Ramblings Of ... on 26 October, 2008 by sonal

Delirious visions of you
Chocolate dipped and candy coated, floated with icecream and just the right amount of coke
This sugary haze, my fluey daze equates you with all manner of diabetic delights and things that are not really right for grown adults to indulge in on an hourly basis.

Delirious visions of me
Green eyed and goat horned
Trying to navigate the waters of scorn, resistance, love, desire, hope, sarcasm, cynicism, enduring confusion and self inflicted delusions of happiness, contentment, that I am fine and cool and not really thinking of you
At all
Ever

Delirious visions of this world I live in
Not rose tinted or grey hued
Not a series of jump cuts or long languorous takes where the heroine waits under cherry blossoms slowly raining petals as she contemplates, meditates upon a life of success, satisfaction and love requited, delighted and without the emotional shipwreck of baggage or broken hearts left in the debris

Instead her fever breaks and she soon awakes to a world more real than she wanted with feelings unresolved and less clear cut than a thousand magazines or books or friends would have her believe
A place where there is no easy solution, no quick resolution, no one size answer, approach, dictum, manifesto or statement that will fit everything that bugs her at the moment
Delirious visions give way to the frightening conclusion that she must do this on her own

I, me, myself, as companions we wait, we hesitate as we decide, debate and ultimately procrastinate on picking up the phone …

That Time of Year Again …

Posted in The Ramblings Of ... on 15 October, 2008 by sonal

16 years. And the days that take me further away from that moment seem to be moving faster.

Timing is a funny thing. Of all the weeks in the year, I heard from a good friend that her father is ill and in a coma. Tomorrow I see her, as I planned to weeks ago, 16 years and 6 weeks since I was in the same headspace as her.

What can I tell her?

What did I tell her? I told her that I probably have a fair idea of what is going on in her head right now; that I don’t know how it will end; that I am here should she need me; that only she knows the best way to work through this and that family aren’t necessarily right about how she should react, behave, whatever …

I don’t know what to think of this date. This mark in my personal history that changed me forever. It makes me different to the other kids who only grew up with one parent yet still have the other alive, it makes me judge those who grew up with two or even still have two as an adult differently, it means my view on my own personal death are ambivalent at best.

There are many things about the day itself that I have never, and maybe will never, forgive people for; there is the occasional self indulgent wonder of what might have been had Bapuji come out of his coma as everyone was hoping for (I never had that hope, I knew the night I found him); and then there is the slightly more guilty feeling that if I could turn back the clock, if I could change history, if Bapuji could be here now, I wouldn’t want it. It’s a horrible thing to say, and I’m sorry Mum and Bhai if saying this hurts you, but it’s true for all the various reasons we have talked about on many occasions.

To those of you who are about to say “oh, you’re father would be proud to see what you’ve grown up into” – I don’t care if Bapuji would be proud me now, I really don’t. It makes no difference to me here or there. He wasn’t around, he doesn’t get the right to an opinion on my life, nor does he get to have it bestowed by others on his behalf.

I don’t care, if I were to be honest, if Mum or Bhai tell me that they’re proud – I don’t seek their pride, only their love which I have in bountiful and unconditional measure. I cared, when I was going out with David, that he was proud of me but I felt, right or wrong, that is love came with a host of conditions so pride was something I so desperately wanted from him. I’d like to think that I don’t care for anyone’s pride, but I could be wrong about that …

And so, here we are again, another year, another day that will pass by like any other. I reflect upon it because I have to, not by any sense of moral obligation or because I haven’t blogged for a few days but because … well, I have no idea why.

I’m not sure who this post is for or what purpose it is meant to serve just as much as I don’t know what to do with this day that I want to be like others, but for some reason cannot just let pass …

I wonder what I’ll be thinking this time next year?