Quiet Days

Somedays are just silent. Nothing but the hum of your computer harmonizing with the buzz of the refrigerator to keep you company. It's nice to write on these types of days. You're not lost in the haze of activity; you get to slow down for a moment and see the breathtaking beauty of the world. You get to be awash in description, and nothingness.
Meaningless banter isn't necessary here, lost in your own mind, wandering from one place to the next, with little to no hope of stopping. Yet it's a slow craw through the thicket of the mind. A lazy gait through the forgotten worlds of yesteryear. You accomplish so much by doing so little.

Into My Own

This is a poem I wrote a couple of years ago called "Into My Own."

Never wanted to say,
Now the words have faded away,
Like childhood memories,
All the things I needed to say.

We've been drifting apart
For so long
You didn't see it
Till I was long gone!

Now we're standing here,
No apologies strong enough,
No repentance heavy enough,
To mend these broken bridges.

We were never brave enough,
To admit we were wrong,
To admit we never belonged,
We never should have held on!

How can you know?
Of this ache inside my soul?
How can you see?
When I never let you near me?

How and why?
Are you drawing me down,
Into my own,
Into my own...

-AJ Sandhu

Red Sunsets

We've had one every year for the past nine years. Well I've only been aware of them for the past nine years anyway.
The first time I saw one I was certain something was about to happen. I did not know if it was a harbinger of good or bad occurrences, but I did know I was fascinated with it.

I was inspired to write the first few pages of a three part series. It was one of my favorites, it still is. It was the first of many books that made me dig deep into a place I was certain I could hide behind smile after smile. So deep, I wouldn't even remember what the truth was anymore.
It's not really as dark as I make it seem, but the stench of pain still lingers.
I noticed the red sunsets one cold midsummer's day in India, when all of my preconceived notions of family and tradition lie shattered around my feet. Childhood fantasies torn asunder.
Yet, I find them so beautiful, those stunning red sunsets, messengers of long buried memories. You see I was right, you can bury the truth so deep that even you don't recognize it anymore.




The Play

What are you hiding from,
I wonder.
What are you running from,
I wonder.


Are they the hallowed vows
Of yester-year?
Or the wistful boughs
Of dreams lost in fear?


Could you pause for a moment?
Could you linger for a minute?
I would hold your hand,
If only for a second.


What do you hear
I wonder.
What do you fear
I wonder.


Are they the words
Of the one you've forsaken?
Or the wrath
Of the one you left, broken


Could you hold still?
I want to memorize your face.
I want you to take part in this farce.
I want you to play my part.
-Aman J. Sandhu

Rumination 1

So I haven't really been on Facebook in about two and a half weeks. I haven't died, I'm not ignorant of the world, and I'm definitely not insane. Which makes me think all of this "social media helps us stay in touch" stuff is crap. Only a handful of my friends follow me on twitter (handful is generous, 8 MAX), and for all anyone else knows, I could be dead.
It's nice to see how many times I'VE been the one to start conversations with the people I supposedly love, and how few of them care about me. To the ones who do care, thank you, seriously, you guys deserve better than me.
My point is, that in this mad rush to make ourselves feel important we've forgotten that we need to make others feel important too, especially those who take the time out of their days to make us feel better about ourselves. Even if it is a birthday reminder on Facebook that prompts us to do so.
Would you like to know how many happy birthdays I got on my birthday last year through any form of communication (text, phone call, facebook, twitter, email, snail mail, ect)? Nine. Nine out of my 250 so called "friends" on facebook. NINE including the 4 other members of my family. NINE, and five of those nine only happened AFTER I told them it was my birthday. So I'm not expecting much this upcoming birthday. Do you know how many people I said happy birthday to? Everyone I could get a hold of, in my "Old English" style so it stood out from all the other half-hearted "Happy Birthdays."
So yeah, I'm a bit bitter. But I'll be fine, because I'm perfectly fine with having fair weather friends, so long as you're fine with being the same. I'll end with this; a question for you that an old video game once asked me;

"Do you have friends? Do they consider you a friend?"
-Legend of Zelda; Majora's Mask