© Sindhu Menon 2019 All rights reserved All rights reserved by author. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author. Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within. First Published in February 2019 ISBN: 978-93-5347-201-6

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Sindhu Menon

Foreword "On reading Butterflies & Dragons There is something magical in going butterfly hunting in the English countryside. More often than not you will find that pest, the Large White, the farmer’s enemy. But then, when you least expect it, there is a flash of colour in the periphery of your vision, and you believe you saw a Painted Lady. It is like that with books too, a chance encounter can be surprising. When my friend Sunil, gave me a copy of Sindhu Menon’s “Butterflies and Dragons. A collection of poems and blogs”, I did not expect what I found. For one, translating anything produced for the Internet into the print medium usually does not bode well, the creative process is so different. Internet creations are spontaneous, free bordering on the anarchic and rarely have the benefit of a second opinion. The printed book on the other hand may be the product of umpteenth revisions, where one would have laboured over the use of a single word or created a mortal enemy of one’s editor who unreasonably want to delete one’s favourite sentence. So, it is with mixed feelings I started my saunter through Sindhu Menon’s book and at the periphery of my vision caught a flurry of colour. A short piece called “If the Clay Could Speak”. It started with an unremarkable question whether we had seen a potter and goes on to describe how a clay pot is created and destined to some greatness. Sindhu Menon then pops another question: If the clay pot 1

The Diary of A Wandering Mind could speak, what do you think it would say? This is where I got hooked. Indeed, what will it say? I discovered that the clay pot was a metaphor for children and the potter for parents and, I would add, teachers and anyone else who acts as if they know the best for our children. If the clay pot had a voice it might tell us that it does not want to be the most beautiful and pricy clay pot in the world but rather be a drab tea cup for an old lady to sip her afternoon tea watching butterflies flitting around her garden hedgerows. Sindhu Menon reminds us that every child who picks up a knife need not want to be a surgeon; perhaps she sees herself as the world’s best chef. The message to me was clear, when you mould something with mouth, be it a pot or a child, allow it to speak and then listen to it. At this point I turned the book over and read the author’s bio. She is a teacher, also a parent and more importantly her words started as markings on paper before transforming into noughts and ones of the digital media. Having read this book, I will contest Sindhu Menon’s claim that she is a teacher with a passion for writing, it should be the other way around: she is a writer with passion for teaching. The book is full of little lessons. There’s the story of Pilson’s brother. Pilson is the school bully, hated by all with nothing redeeming about him until we meet his brother to whom Pilson is devoted. Expecting a bigger bully than Pilson, we find the brother to be a mentally challenged child who utterly loves Pilson and we learn about the bonding strength of love.

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Sindhu Menon I found these lessons best stated in the little sayings and poems of few words’ length scattered around in the book. I felt Sindhu Menon was strongest with these pieces where you will find, love, magic, dreams and courage, all virtues extolled in a manner, sometimes reminiscent of a couplet from a ghazal: “I searched long, for beauty in many faces, / But after years of Failure, I found it inside a Heart.” Other times it was like a piece of Zen wisdom: “When Life takes away what you love, / It is better to realise that you actually own nothing in the first place.” So you may find a few words here that speaks to your heart and I think that was Sindhu Menon’s intention." Gopalakrishnan Netuveli, Professor of Public Health Institute for Health and Human Development University of East London

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The Diary of A Wandering Mind

About the Author Sindhu Menon is a Writer, a Teacher and mother of 2 adorable kids & a cat. She is a dreamer and a heart thinker and loves Travelling. A person who finds joy in simple things. She discovered her passion for writing when she was in 8th grade. But took up writing with a passion just a few years back. Which is why she is a living proof that passions and dreams have no age for achievement. As she says, " Dreams are wings that take you to places, which you have never dreamt before" Blurb : As the name suggests, the pages of the book are pages from the author’s personal diary. Verses, Blogs and Quotes ... an interesting mix of contents to read. A simple book with nothing complicated inside. A book that will make you love life ! A book that conveys that " Everybody has a song! You just need to find it & Enjoy singing it". Genre: A collection of Blogs, Poems and Quotes for Daily Inspiration. Dedication: To Darshan My Dachu who teaches me each day, that " Life is fun", when you can be silly, laugh out loud and enjoy each moment you get.

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Sindhu Menon

Diary Entry 1:

FROM FROGS TO BOOKS (Chapter 1.) There is a reason why these diary pages were made the first pages in my book. Many questions, many expressions, myriad reactions and several doubts. I have answered, encountered, analysed and been through all these, after my first book was published. This is why I decided to document the journey of a girl, who took more than 2 decades to fulfil her dream. I hope this blog becomes an inspiration to many, a catalyst to few and a path to follow for at least one. As human beings, there is not even one amongst us who does not have an affinity to something specific. Music and books were always mine. Even at a very small age, I could feel it deep inside that I would carry with me both of these till the end of time. That was an age of doctors and engineers. If you were not one of these, then you were almost condemned to a lifetime of judgments. People looked at you as if you had just served a life sentence and were released on bail. Parents acted as if you had 5

The Diary of A Wandering Mind

wasted their entire life’s dreams and aspirations. Well I was born in one such era. (Though you need not misunderstand that am too old now.) Science graduates were the Elite class of people. Engineers were the special class of people. Commerce graduates were labelled as convicts and hoodlum class. Arts graduates, well they were spoken about in whispers. As if even speaking about them would ruin the sanctity of the home and turn the children into outlaws or rebels. The effect of this plague spread its icy cold fingers all around and did not spare even one home. As we were not resistant varieties we caught it too. So in many homes, many dreams died brutal deaths. Tears were shed, battles were fought, rebels were born and crushed, retaliations were mutilated and so much more. A Victorious few were disowned and forced to resign to cruel fate. The majority just walked with the flow with burdened hearts and burnt joys. But the world kept spinning, time kept moving, children kept graduating and the country kept filling up with medicine folk and building folk. But that lack of happiness, the emptiness. That was always there.

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“Life is never fair.” If it was, there would be no Experiences or Lessons. “ Sindhu Menon

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The Diary of A Wandering Mind Chapter 2:

From Frogs to Books. (Chapter 2.) In confusions and delusions we thus grew up. But what is part of us, is, a part of us. Nothing or no power in the universe can take it away. Its simmers, boils, stays calm but never dies out. Well I had already realized that if at all by some weird luck, I indeed became a doctor or an engineer then I would have to definitely get my degree and an anticipatory bail on the same day. Other than these, there were other scary things. The universe hides them and throws them at you in bits and pieces. Names of a few such scary things were MATHS, physics, geography and vernier calipers. Even today I have no idea why we spend excruciating hours in the physics lab bent over these strange contraptions called vernier calipers that was making our blood boil inside our capillaries. It’s something that became extinct for us the minute we passed out of school. Zoology was an escape from Math and Physics and Geography and many other scary entities. The relief that I had left behind Math forever was enough happiness to last for 3 fun years in college. Whenever I sat in front of a 8

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dissection board, i wondered if the frog had powers to curse us. We became murderers and kidnappers of numerous frogs and insects and crabs etc. Each day, I ask forgiveness from the souls of these animals. The biggest question what next stared at my face, again! There were ripples inside as I found no path happy enough to take. No road looked inviting and no adventure seemed exciting. So a Management degree it was. Two years of statistics and operations research and fun hostel life. Still it did not satisfy that emptiness inside. That striking truth that I did not belong hit me on my face each and every day. But friends are an amazing therapy to anything and life went on. Suddenly I was thrown into marriage. Several new doors opened but several others shut down. Still there were whispers inside calling out, pulling and tugging at my soul. Life became a whirlwind of mesmerizing speed and I was carried through it. Somewhere down that lane, things slowed down and a ray of freedom sparked inside. Sitting with no work one day, in front of my computer ... watching mundane happenings outside my window I started typing. The words flowed easily. As easy, as breathing. I had never felt so happy. Well happy is not the exact word. I must say I never felt so satisfied while doing anything else.

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The Diary of A Wandering Mind

I posted my first blog in a long time on BlogSpot. Within a few days I had readership not only in India but several other countries like Japan, Russia and France. That was encouragement enough. After that day, I spend every free second writing. It was as if a soul that was tied down in chains deep inside had found the right key. The readership and the comments and likes grew faster than I imagined. Just as I felt that I had finally found my calling, life once again winked on my face and with a sly smile and a flip of fate, it just turned my life topsy turvy again. Once again it was a sabbatical, a silence and a feeling that something was struggling deep inside. Almost 5 years went by and I did not write a word for myself, other than copying notes for my kids, to grocery lists or names of customers at work. Finally there came a time, when I stared at only darkness before me. Life has that strange power, to throw away all your dreams and happiness with one twist of destiny. It shows you its middle finger and throws you into that never seemingly endless tunnel with only dark shadows. A year of struggle with myself and my mind. A year of depression and tears. Tears that were shed, for God alone knows what reason! I spend hours in solitude fighting 10

Sindhu Menon

with myself and the silence within. There were days I felt there was no point to this life I lived. The only instances I felt alive was when I looked at my kids’ faces. Finally I could take it no more. It was then that I wrote my blog Finding myself...Again! This blog has received a lot of criticism and praise equally after I posted it on Facebook. The blog is right from the heart, as is every other writing of mine. Something clicked again after I wrote this blog and it helped me actually find myself ...Again! After that, there was no stopping the phoenix that had risen. I was not ready to lose myself again... for anything or anyone.

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The Diary of A Wandering Mind

“The Longest journeys usually have the Best stories to tell “ By Sindhu Menon

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Sindhu Menon Diary Entry 3

Heart Talk …to Myself Words , empty words, Flowing free and fast. Empty eyes, in a daze they gaze, These words, they sound like a maze. Like the wind they dance, Flowing with no care. Minds they juggle and they try But to question, none do dare. Mumblings of a wandering soul, They will make no sense. Ramblings of an insane heart, With meaning they seem dense.

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