Sukhmani Sadana, is one I fell in love with as soon as she was born … and yet I had to discover this side of hers to actually feel a new kinda bonding , a feeling of ends of a circle touching again.
Today Amritsar born Sukhmani can be seen on television as a debut actress with a Yash Raj show ‘Khoote Sikkey’ serial on fri-sat sony 11pm, a scriptwriter with Ogilvy & Mather having written screenplay for two prime time MTV shows.. ..Modelled for some products too . Indisputably, She is a Beauty and surely God has made her in his carefree leisure ! More beauty lies in her poem that is fresh and creates a surreal picture of story of Birds, Bees N Flowers, wither she entwines herself and her life in queer twists and turns. Sample this beautifully woven emotion ………’I am stung. I bleed my colours and drop my petals’.
“if i were a flower..”
By Sukhmani Sadana
A bee humming around me,
Makes me smile with its company.
It fills the void each flower is born with,
Spaces and purrs, its smitten by me.
A tap and a step back, a whiff and reverse,
It’s puzzled, yet baffled by me.
I stand uptight, in conflict to the wind,
The wind that’s like a blustery airstream today.
Does it mean to suggest a sign?
Well! I persistent with my pal- my bee,
Taking pleasure in this fixture.
We grow in this bustle each day,
With our liking only swelling,
Till one day, 2 bees from another tree,
Come buzzing along my way.
My shades, aroma or frailty,
I know not what magnetizes them?
But surely the sweetness is something i don’t mind.
They glance at me with esteem and love,
But a look of repulsion for the another.
I know not who- to let settle on me, for their daily nectar feed.
As seasons change and i begin to flourish,
The blossom is enchanting.
I let the current swing me by,
Like a flame struggling a rebellious blowing.
From a garden of a another street,
Comes yet another bee,
This time distressing..all the other 3.
I take their interest and give my nectar in return,
We feed our lives in a self seeking manner,
With as much integrity as it can be.
But this bitterness between them,
Will have to be endured by me.
I sense this pride of possession,
Turning slowly into hostility,
And then on a warm afternoon, while this buzzing is making my roots feeble,
I predict my soil loosening on me.
This day settles on surprising me,
Where one of them, beyond sympathetic borders,
Not eager no more to take this crowd,
Over a flower he thought was his belonging.
So he chooses to make this patch of ground,
Miss a once breathing bloom.
I am stung. I bleed my colours and drop my petals.
As life for me just began to search its end.
Before i drop and wither, i gaze at my loving bees
And wonder which one would miss me the least??