Category: Uncategorized

The Power of the Pause in Creative Processes

For me the power of the pause is the most important part of any activity, whether it is a creative one or a simple thing like planning my Menu for the day.

I have known people who say that “why do you need to plan a menu? You just go and make something. After so many years of running a house, you should be able to do it with your eyes closed!”

Well it’s never been that simple for me. For me any activity is creative activity- whether it’s writing a book or a poem or even a small haiku for an Instagram post, I need to pause, imagine, toy with words, reflect and then put on paper my thoughts.

The white space that is believed to be a negative space is a very vital and positive area of activity. If I were to plan my white space consciously ( I am, let me be honest, a very impromptu creator so I do not actually construct or build a white space consciously) but yes there is a method to my madness and in retrospect I realise that I have unconsciously structured the pause that is the hidden depth of my foundation of any planned or unplanned activity.

When we were students, we were urged to write our answers or essays with a beginning, middle and an end. A simplistic attitude maybe, but that grid has stood true for so many centuries that all those years of training has deeply ingrained my psyche and I follow it in a nonlinear way.

Before I start any project, I need to have that seed in my mind – it could be just a line “The safe door was just that bit open” and this would usually pop into my mind just before I fall asleep. The next day, amidst the busyness of everyday life it would keep popping up and in the moments that intersperse my day I would play around with it. This then is my beginning.

My middle would be that part where my logical brain would argue with my heart; that it is an idiotic sentence. How can you create a story from something as inane as that? The brain would argue! Then my heart would smile that very secretive smile and say “wait and see! Give me some width!” there would be conversations like this yo-yoing within me while on the outside I would be calm and either indulging in another creative outlet (sketching or stitching…) this is the most difficult part. It has sometimes taken me months before I could formulate my thoughts into coherent action. It is filled with self-doubts, uncomfortable clarity, and restlessness. It is here that I need to push at the resistance that engulfs me overwhelmingly.

The end is where the beginning was. I have at this point decluttered myself and have taken positive steps towards planting that seed. It is here that I do a lot of research on my topic. Frame and reframe my story in a million different ways. Here I use myself and others as a sounding board and then question and requestion my intents. If it’s a story it is straightforward, I begin writing each chapter with the whole picture in front of me (again to be honest there have been many a times that I have erased whole chapters or rewritten whole conversations due to my indulgent emotions during this period). If it is a poem, I have questioned the veracity of what I want to portray or a short story where I have changed the passage of time.

This final moment is my incubation period; the time when my story is born with all its limbs intact.

According to me ‘scheduling’ goes against the grain of any creative venture but white space is necessary for clarity of thought and expression. If you were to think of creativity as an impressionist’s painting as opposed to a portrait that photography mimics now, then white space would definitely be an inherent part of the plan to create.

Mind, Body and Soul

Dedication

For

The storm within the self, and the calm that follows.

To the fire the flesh, and the whispering soul – may you find your truce.

 For the eternal battlefield where shadows and light

Wrestle – may these lines be your map.

Step into a world where words breathe, emotions flow, and the human experience unfolds in all its raw, beautiful complexity. Mind, Body and Soul is a collection of poetry that delves deep into the essence of who we are—our thoughts, our struggles, our joys, and the quiet moments that define us.
A journey through the heart, mind, and spirit—this collection of poetry explores love, loss, resilience, and the quiet moments that define us. Honest, moving, and deeply human, Mind, Body and Soul invites you to reflect, feel, and discover yourself in every line."

This book was born from conflict — the quiet,
ceaseless struggle between mind, body, and soul.
For as long as I can remember, these three parts of
myself have spoken in different voices, each vying
for attention, balance, and truth. These poems are
my attempt to listen to them all at once.
Within these pages you will not find answers so
much as reflections — echoes of late nights,
internal dialogues, and moments of stillness that
rose after storms. Some pieces are sharp, some
tender, some questioning, but all arise from the
same place: the space where our inner worlds
collide.
I wrote these poems not just for myself but for
anyone who has felt divided or at war with their
own being. If you have ever sensed a quiet tension
between your thoughts, your body, and your spirit,
you may recognize yourself here.
This collection is an invitation to witness that
eternal battle, but also to glimpse the fragile peace
that can emerge from it. My hope is that these
words will help you feel seen, understood, and
perhaps a little less alone.

Mind body and soul

Lockdown Screen Time

Beyond the trillion Zoom conferences that dot my COVID-19 lockdown, I have another lot of activities that keep me so busy that I have fallen ill twice in the past sixty days!

The first week without the maid was fun. (I love cleaning) With ample help from a house-bound husband and daughter who took care of the heavy duty cleaning, I scrubbed corners, cleaned cupboard tops and used all the ‘You tube’ cleaning hacks possible.

The next week made me traverse the insides of each cupboard, the bookshelves (with lots of nostalgic swamping when I looked at my twenty year old self’s notations on the margins) and bathroom cleaning.

 The third week of course laid me low for three days (Every bone and sinew aching). I was warned by the whole family (specially the doctor via video chat) that I cannot and should not overexert myself. I nodded with pitiful affirmatives and resumed my duties slowly.

The week that followed the lockdown under the lockdown made me sit on my comfortable chair watching Netflix and Prime Video. All the games that I had downloaded on the I-Pad were begging me to indulge them, so my screen time increased from four hours to six hours (lots of admonishment from the lord and master!) then I had to indulge in my voyeurism- all the social media scrolling!

Facebook was of course filled with birthdays and anniversaries and the many stories which can be understood only by the one who posts them! It also had the occasional Instagram posts.

I prefer looking at the Instagram posts on its own app, so off I go, clicking on the link and moving to another world. Here I am offered a number of culinary delights. The world and his wife have taken to cooking the most delicious dishes on the face of the earth and posting them on Instagram. Even the videos posted are no longer dominated by Nature’s beauty, we see the most delicious samosas, casserole, cakes, puddings, rasgollas…. I really cannot tabulate all of them here! New channels have come up from wanna-be cooks and all the housewives who have husbands wielding the video camera! Sadly, the cooking channels that I follow have been relegated to the backseat. It is so much better to see the normal kitchen in the background rather than the uber-efficient ones of the celebrities.

Though not a great cook, I have been feeding my family for over thirty years, so I jumped onto the bandwagon and made my share of rasmalais, jelabis and even pedas. The usual panipuris, rava dosas, idlis and poha were put in attractive dishes, photos were taken with the right amount of lighting but after the deluge of foodography I decided wisely against putting up my pretty pictures.

But the cutest deluge has come from new mommies! I noticed a certain age group of my erstwhile students were turning into new mothers. Lots of cutie quotes (specially as Mother’s Day has just gone by), cuddly babies and adorable new grannies fought for space on my app. The ones without babies put up their doggie instas and successfully captured my attention.

Next of course is Twitter. What then are the birds doing these days? Well, we have the usual political bashers, the fight between the pros and antis. Then of course the statistics of Coronavirus- how many infected, how many dead, which countries and in India which states. Possibility of economic suicide versus own suicide! “My country is worse than yours”, “My leader  is worse than yours” and the best are the NRIs who live in their comfortable lives saying how wonderful India is notwithstanding the miserable level to which the poor have gone to! Here too, I do not dare to offer my own views in the fear of being arrested (One young man was thrown into jail for daring to criticize the All Mighty one (and I do not mean God))

I am not a member of TikTok so I cannot post my dancing videos (I can hear all of you sighing with relief). The news channels say the same thing and I was getting tired of being in front of a screen for almost all my waking hours. So what do I do next?

Feeling as strong as Hercules, I tossed caution to the winds and was back to all my naughty and secretive escapades, namely ‘cleaning spree’. The family members were busy doing their own things, so I got away unnoticed! My stove started sparkling, the kitchen counters were spick and span, all the stuff from the supermarket were put in their rightful places rather than lying about like abandoned puppies and the washer and drier sparkled with happiness with all the love and care I lavished on them.

It was not surprising that on a day when I chose to cook three whole meals, clean four bathrooms, and do the laundry, that my more than half a century old body collapsed, and I was back in bed!

Older and wiser, now I have decided not to trust my adrenalin spiked brain and do my work in moderation.

So two months of lockdown, two collapses, a million food videos, and a trying-to-be-sensible, old but young at heart person is looking forward to a COVID less world where she can do what she loves the most – Travel!

Que sera sera what will be will be…

Dare Me & Other Stories

Four friends, reunited after a decade, set out on a road trip near Jaipur. As they reminisced about the past, they find themselves accosted by a young shepherd boy and his mother in the middle of a desolate forest with an elusive lake on the horizon. The next twelve hours wreak havoc; with old love resurfacing while questioning the ‘justice’ served a decade ago.

Angela lived a quiet life in a Swiss convent until a rich benefactor, Herr Abraham, took her under his wings. While she found peace in  ‘conversing’ with her late mother, Angela’s life changes at an alarming pace when a nun is found murdered. 

An amnesic man found on the streets of New York is revealed to be a wealthy banker from New Orleans. As he tries to piece his life together, a missing puzzle is waiting to be discovered that links his car accident to the lack thereof his injuries.

Many family members experience the same dream. Is there an unfulfilled desire from the unknown, seeking to manifest itself in the real world?

In her collection of fifteen stories, Benita Patnaik leads you into a seemingly benign world; but soon, before long – the layers of normalcy peel away within mere seconds. Revenge, jealousy, greed laced with hatred and desire push each character to live their lives in a cycle of never ending existence. The greyness of the paranormal world leaves you cold with fear; prompting you to draw parallels of its surrealistic nature in your own life.

Hereafter, you would think twice before you ignore the stranger at the bus stop; the wedding anniversary gift sitting on your mantelpiece; a pigeon perched on your ledge every single day; the recurring dreams which have no meaning …today.

Would you dare?

SENSATION

Delightful sensations,

Gave birth to feelings,

And exhausted itself

To dry emotions.

The loving and the hating,

Limped on broken limbs…

And sensations of pleasure,

Were a bondage

Of the creeping pain.

–Benita Patnaik

Destined to win

Sunlight crept in stealthily,

Wrapped itself, round and around

Darkness.

Shadows tip-toed out softly,

Unraveled themselves, open and about

Light.

Memories, dusty shook themselves

Jumped, frolicked, out and outside

History.

Unhappiness paused for a moment,

Kicked discontentment over and inside

Now.

Feelings buckled again, kneeling,

Pleading, praying over and over, in

Circles.

Fate strutted out cocksure

Laughed, gibed, tickled and teased

Destiny.

Benita Patnaik

Dreams- a narrative tool or a distortion of reality?

“I was dressed in a red bridal sari. I walked with bowed head towards the mandap; the shehnai was loud and clear. I could see the pink turbaned head of all the men folk and the colourful saris glittering under the neon light. Suddenly, there was silence and I watched everyone turn in slow motion towards the entrance, which framed a wild looking, but beautiful girl dressed in pink – all in pink.

“Stop this marriage!”

The stunned pundit looked up enquiringly at a man (my father?).

I looked up and my veil fell off my bowed head.

From somewhere a shot rang out and the girl crumpled to her feet, clutching her heart.

I looked triumphantly at someone……………” – “Real Dreams”

The use of dreams in a narrative whether its fiction or real time, is a tool many writers have used over the ages. Dreams, we have been told is our subconscious mind trying to make sense of multiple experiences in our life. The mind simply takes episodes from life puts them, say into a glass jar and shakes them up (whether its random or not has not been proven!) and then pours it out into our sleeping mind in an absolutely new procession of thought.

I have used the dream sequences in my book “Real Dreams” to heighten the mystery surrounding the life of the protagonist and to give the readers a clue to what might have or will happen. As a tool it is sharp, straight and highly effective- instead of explaining things through a huge rigmarole, the short sharp narration tells us a lot, using minimum number of bytes.

“In the Freudian model, the dream gives expression to prior, unconscious dream thoughts (Freud [1900] 1953). From a neurobiological perspective, however, there is no further regression of meaning, because dreams arise from the activation of the forebrain by periodic neuronal activity in the brain stem (Hobson & McCarley 1977). “

We have a million pages on the internet about interpretation of dreams. How practical and cognitive they are is up to the reader’s own identification to what is happening around him. People tend to like, appreciate and believe in things with which they can find a comfortable parallel in their lives. So, what exactly are dreams and how do we find meaning for them?

Are they just chemicals in our brain playing around with our senses and creating holograms? Or are they divine manifestation of God conversing with us (sometimes warning us; sometimes auguring about good times to come)? Or just the tired brain regurgitating some memories to make place for new?

I feel they are all this and more. It is therefore not surprising that even in the epics of Mahabharata and Iliad we have multiple instances of dreams portending the future or using the past to explain certain events.

Films of course have used dreams exclusively for their visual pleasure; to explore the unknown and spiritual aspect of life. Thus, we have a number of horror movies based on dreams; many crime-based movies use dreams to psychoanalyze the perpetrator’s actions; even romantic movies delve into this parallel world to create softness, desire and longing.

What actually makes “dreams” such a flexible and attractive tool? It actually blurs reality and logic. We do not have to follow the dictates of science, logic or social rules, all because it is not supposed to be real! Using this, the creator can state events or thought process without having to cross the “Ts” and dot the “i s”. he can also mould the narrative to enhance the experience of using all our senses.

Dreams are mostly nonlinear narratives. They follow the ‘stream of consciousness’ model; sometimes our mind jumps like a monkey from one branch to other, seemingly without any connection. But if we were to research the dreams, we would find that there is one. A journey on a boat could take us to a bar and then unto a jump from a cliff. On the surface unconnected but look deep we have “Water-drink-suicide”, one could follow the other in a logical manner. I was thinking of the beautiful landscapes of England and then my mind took me to a trek that I had taken years ago and then on to a conversation on hot wine! Everything unrelated but very normal when you think of your thoughts in solitary experience. No wonder they say that “mind is faster than the speed of light!

It would be great to explore this tool in infinitesimal ways and use it to further a narrative, embellish the atmosphere or to simply paint the scenery in different hues. Imagine a world where dreams foretell or foreshadow and trick us into blurring the lines and enhance every moment of our existence!