Landing in India

The flight is due to land at Indira Gandhi airport of New Delhi and the plane is travelling across the large city, passing through the thick layer of clouds, smog and pollution. When the plane is close to landing, the whole large metal cylinder is filled with a familiar smell or scent of India, something that others might find repulsive. But to me it’s filled with memories, emotions and a touch of belonging. Tears are filled up in my eyes when the plane hits the ground. I’m home. Once again.

The hotel we stayed at isn’t worth mentioning due to the overall experience wasn’t all too well, but there were some highlights of the service level and staff that is worth mentioning. The two nights in Delhi were a good touch-down base before our onward departuring to Punjab. You get a moment of acclimatising to the Indian climate, food and the senses get hightened. 

I have been writing a lot through the years about belonging and identity since it has always been a struggle for me, being born in Sweden and having roots from such a colourful culture that is India. The clash between these two extreme worlds has been both a blessing and a curse, since it has opened me up to so much inner personal development I never would have been striving for if it weren’t for being torn in two directions. I have previously written about being a TCK in a world of being around people that have almost no other mixed background, which makes you feel different and strange from time to time. When I during the recent years found myself searching more inwards in my own identity crisis and started to accept that I am fine the way I am, both Swedish and Indian, I was able to grow strength to be able to tell my story. I felt for the first time that I was able to connect with other people that have a similar background, and my creativity became more heightened. 

The last day at the Delhi hotel, we ate dinner in the restaurant at the hotel to be a bit more convenient and also to not have to rush around in Delhi traffic at that hour. No matter if we choose to or not, we eventually adapt to eating at Indian times, which is quite different than dining times in Sweden. Back home in Sweden one would eat dinner at 6-7 pm and lunch at 11-12 am. When we’re in India the dinner times are around 8-9pm and lunch around 1-2pm. I think it might be due to the fact that people go to work a little later on and leave later, which makes the whole day shift a few hours.
When we were dining at 8 pm at the hotel, the waiter asked us if we were from Sweden since he could see it in our booking. Obviously he could tell we had some sort of Indian (desi) background so he asked if we were here for the first time. I responded, no we’ve been here many times before since our background is from Punjab. He asked if we were born here or in Sweden, and this is where things would have been confusing if I were to trust my past experiences of being put in a box. His response to us being born in Sweden, was the sweetest I have received in India in a long time. He said, then you’re just as much Indian as you are Swedish and he smiled and giggled a bit. I agreed and he went on to talk to other guests in the restaurant. He probably didn’t know what that sentence meant to me, how much it meant that someone would acknowledge us as being part of this society and still be able to keep the other identity. He truly saw our Indian soul. We didn’t have to feel torn and puzzled between the two cultures. Not being forced to choose when someone asks us which one we consider our home, or which one we like the most. There can never be a clear answer to that question, I am always searching, and the more I search, the more questions I get. 

The best part of being born in two cultures is the richness it gives to my life, to be able to live a life with both influences on a day to day basis. To be able to pick and choose (most of the times) what we like with each culture and keep those aspects in our life for the next generation. Coming to India annually means much more to me than can be put into words, it can never be explained, the emotions that run through my body when I land 7000 km away from Sweden. Despite being more restricted to do exactly what I want as a woman, to come and go at any hour, and having difficulties adapting to the lifestyle here; I still feel more alive and free. There’s a freedom and acceptance in the air in India one cannot find anywhere else. I might be biased, but that’s my truth. 

Sat Sri Akal, Namaste, Peace and Love,
Kimmi Madeline

Poem: Memory Lane

It’s hard to be stuck in a moment

In between memory lane

Thoughts and dreams go hand in hand

Come on in and open your heart

I just want to see the smile

One more time.

Years pass us by in an instant

We never look back and question why

Always running forward to the future

Just stop and breathe

Why the rush

We can catch up soon enough

Eventually.

Peace and Love,

Kimmi Sandhu

Instagram: moon_over_mumbai

Poem: Lifetime of emotion

I’m wide awake and dreaming
It’s 4.30 am and you’re sleeping
World is spinning ’round
In my lucid dream
I can hear your voice
Calling out my name
One last time.

In this endless moonless night
Where dreams have stopped
Eyes wide open
Longing for relief
Open wounds in my soul
Will they ever melt away?

Overcome and overrun
By memory of forgotten pain
Drowning, in a never-ending ocean
Tears shed, for a lifetime of emotion
Always here, always near.

Peace and Love,
Kimmi Madeline

“I own my story. No one else”

Instagram: moon_over_mumbai

Poem: In the vaccum of truth

Poem from: unknown date in 2010.

There is a flow of emotions
Floating through the room
In the vaccum of truth,
A moment of silence
Where there is no suffering
And the air is clear and light
I still walk around with this halo
On top of my head
Since the day I found purpose,
Since the day I found you

-Kimmi Madeline

Instagram: moon_over_mumbai

Poem: Bittersweet Love Story

Poem from: 2012-02-05

The heart is breathing again
My lungs are pumping again
I can sense a scent of joy
When your face is in the reach
Filling me; piece by piece
Reminding me; day by day
How loving it is
to have you near
A touch of love
is all so dear

Warm tingling feeling
It’s taking over me
Beats synchronize
to the harmony
of love and peace
They tune in for
Days to come
Nights to feel
A bittersweet love story

-Kimmi Madeline

Instagram: moon_over_mumbai

Mumbai Dreams…

It’s been 2 ½ weeks since we came back from India this time around. The India fever has been running high ever since I came back home, been binge-watching Hindi films during these past few weeks to try to grasp for the last few straws of India that I had left in me from the trip. Why do I feel this way these days? Am I making up for all those years when I didn’t feel that I belonged neither here or there? Am I getting more sentimental with time, more than I already am? I don’t have an answer to all these questions, all I know is that writing has been my only saviour; it helps me cope with my complicated and scattered emotions about belonging.

I just started reading the book The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri and have also watched the film by Mira Nair based on the same novel. That film hit a spot in my heart and I can’t help but to cry tears of recognition and melancholy. The pain and the suffering is too close to heart. Writing these words after watching the film, aren’t written without a tear in my eyes. At least they clean the vision and hopefully I can see clearly now what I have long wanted to see. Me and who I truly am. There’s never been a need to pretend but I didn’t realise that when I was younger. You don’t have to try to fit in when you know you don’t. Being unique is what is best.

Ever since the second day of visiting Mumbai in November, I knew that I had found my missing piece of inspiration. My long lost inspiration for writing my story, my book. I found it again, in the heart of Mumbai. I could see the waves coming into the shore and we were driving by the south side of Mumbai, feeling the breeze from the opened window. My hair was getting messy in the wind, but I didn’t mind at all, I felt at peace. I knew I had found my way back, to my core. I think that’s why I have had my “identity crisis” with the endless watching of Hindi films, trying to see if I can relate to any of it. I don’t feel the need to relate anymore, I already know what was missing all along. My acceptance.

Peace and Love,
Kimmi Niroopinder Madeline

Poem: Creatures of the sea.

Poem: Creatures of the sea.

fishes in the sea

One thought. One dream. One soul.
You can hear my voice
Deep within my soul
Calling out your name
Swimming to the shore
We are together. As one.

Oceans apart,
You can still hear me
Words are drowning in,
Telepathic waves,
My heart is yearning for
Peace of mind.

Connecting spirits
No matter the distance
No matter the time
We are always aligned
Truly divine

Creatures of the sea.

Memories – Known or Forgotten

Jag måste få skriva ner lite tankar som dök upp medans Jonas Hassan Khemiri nämnde en sak på TV. Om en människa är vilsen eller förlorad, och inte har så många minnen kvar, skulle det synas på en kroppsscanning? Existerar minnen endast i min hjärna eller delar man minnen på en annan dimensionen med den man skapade minnena med? Om den person man skapat minnen med, inte existerar längre, försvinner även de minnena eftersom man är ensam om de nu?

/ Kimmi Madeline

Poem: Memories Broken

Fragments of images
Floating in my head
Were they real or were they false?
Moments lost and never found
Can we really ever tell
Broken memories from our dreams

Pieces of a puzzle
Missing pieces to be found
Digging for the answers
Shuffle pieces back together
Curing this amnesia
Memories have been found

In another dimension
We will meet again
Our pieces of the puzzle
Will find their way back
Passing on the memories
To the eternal side

Peace and Love,
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