From New Deli, India, welcome
world poetess Sangeeta Suneja
. Sangeeta is the author of The First Few Minutes, her first book of
poetry, short stories and a few motivational notes. Sangeeta says, “The stories are small and revolve
around the subject of self-empowerment and have arisen out of my own
observations of life and the mundane.”
A
Commercial Manager with AirIndia, Sangeeta is married and enjoys time spent
writing. “For me writing is an ongoing process,” she explains. “I have been writing
short stories and poetry, publishing it, systematically, awaiting good
publishers.”
Congratulations on your book release The
First Few Minutes! Can you explain the title and what we will find inside
your new book?
I
believe in positively and mutually encouraging, the writer within, us.
The cover art is intriguing. Who is the
artist, and why that image?
The
cover has my digital painting, and rest of the cover has been designed by an
artist and designer Mr. Ajay Verma.
The
Image has a group of girls, standing in a row, as if, on a scale of time. The
one in the centre reflects her complete image, rest of the girls get blurred,
dissolving in the background. It has been used as a metaphor to define ‘the
first few minutes’ those have affected her complete presence.
My
book revolves around the concept of enumerable possibilities, those lie hidden
and undiscovered within us, and because we have not actualized our potentials. The
first few minutes of every endeavor, hold the key, if at that point of time, we
connect to the cause, we deliver majestically, sooner or later.
Describe your writing space...
My
writing space is my mind, if it has scribbled enough, then, I pour it gently,
on the paper or on my tab, anywhere and everywhere, I get a chance, on my
bedside I have a huge window on my right side, opening in the balcony,
overlooking a small garden. It has laburnums, drumstick, banana and other
ornamental shrubs. Being an airline Manager, I am multitasking, most of my
time, driving sixty kilometers everyday
is
consuming.
What drives your inspiration and creativity?
My
writing and creativity have grown on me like a mistletoe, but is not parasitic.
It is the sprig that I love to wear, all the time.
Besides writing, what do you do in you spare
time?
My
evenings and mostly the late night writings are the most comforting part of my
day.
What are you currently writing?
I
have been a part of many collaborative anthologies, online magazines and books.
Apart from this I am a blogger and have my own poetry blog Poetry Love
Sangeeta Suneja. It has been awarded
by baggout.com, and
selected as the top fifteen socially active poetry blogs of India. It has
around two thousand poetry pieces and a few of my artwork.
Where in the world is your favorite place to
be?
I
am truly inspired by the subtlety of nature and the natural, life is beautiful
and lovely when it is simple. The mountains, hills, forests, rivers and the
countryside, be it, in any part of the world, attracts me. I am a spiritual
seeker and a believer, so faith in the superpower of the creator has been my
main driving force, for all the matters of my life, including my writings.
Please share an excerpt from The First Few
Minutes…
The
first few minutes
are
crucial for a new born,
if
it cries out and loud,
The
creation has been endowed with ‘an art.
The
communication of the creative units with its environment is a must to come
alive as an art,
Within
first minutes if it does,
it
is an authentication,
a
certification of being an art.
The
idea behind my writing this book was to communicate, to share my quaint experiences
of life and learning. My book is a window on the passing railroad of life, the
readers get a glimpse of it. Here is an excerpt, from a story, from my book The First Few Minutes…
In
search of silken thread
It
was an emotionally charged moment, hundreds of young college students were seen
bitterly crying holding hands, hugging and sitting, consoling each other, it
took some time for me to realize this after I spotted a few of them in their
uniforms, that they were cadets from National Cadet Corps, who were returning
home after a month long NCC Camp at the garrison grounds Delhi Cant after
performing for the Republic day parade and a beating retreat at the Raj path
India Gate. A month long association created great bonds, lifelong
relationships, away from the family a new home and then separation is
distressing. Many of them still happy to be together till their journey
completed.
The
emotions and affections are universal and remain the same in all ages and times
but the display of emotion today is different from our times I realized we in
our youth were totally bound in our cultural parameters, today they are more
comfortable in their skin, and they are emotionally intelligent, respond
differently and value the need of expression.
Boarding
the train after so many decades, witnessing these lovely young adults openly
expressing their predilections, I smelled a familiar flavor in the air, the
time machine began to escalate me in its intense intoxicating fumes, taking me
back...
There
has always been a mysterious attraction between the trains and the love
stories. The trains either give birth to love stories or are the progenitors of
affections. However this remains a subject of research. When a train gallops
among the farms freely through the jungles, deserts, tunnels the cocooned train
compartment is a haven and an oasis to the first time lovers, part time lovers,
once in a life time lovers, and equally for the seasoned players who
encapsulated in the running fire, catch sparks of beauty through the train
windows. When these sparks turn into an inferno for a life time, nobody
knows...
A poetry
The morning
The dark of night
awaits,
Playing its calm
carousel,
Draping the damp
dementia
Of the late last
evening,
When the part of the
particle broke, Into two,
the bright bismuth
and midnight blue,
Rest resulted in a
sleep,
slumbering in a
shallow cloak,
The stream of a
running light, tapped against my door,
The dog rubbed its
paws,
Wagging the tail,
for a few moments, in hope,
The morning, today
again is slow,
It kicks me left and
right,
But the day is dumb,
as much, the night was neatly numb,
I opened the latch
of the door,
The morning stands,
hesitant, out on the floor,
My wish to call her
in,
She understands, but
I do not speak, Why?
The God, only
knows,
The morning, in me
is the sand, awaits,
away at the shore,
We never meet indoor,
She pays me a visit
at the gate and goes,
Back to the back
waters,
My abyss misses
again an admirable acquaintance,
As she posed,
to say a
goodbye,
Was wanting to be
the sea,
The Moon of monotony
moans,
I hang like a broom
stick in the corner,
Ready, lazily for
the chores,
The morning, without
waking the waves,
Once again it goes!
Connect with Sangeeta…
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