#31 Sandhya Ramachandran's 3 objects
"That simple truth sent me crawling back to my roots."
Welcome to #31! Living with Objects features people thinking out loud about their experiences through the objects they live with. The ways we relate to, interact with, and consume things can say a lot about us, and we hope that exploring these ideas gives us new understandings of ourselves.
In this one, Sandhya Ramachandran tells us about the belongings that journeyed with her across the world not once but twice, the thing that filled up six boxes during her move, and what she left behind.
Sandhya Ramachandran writes to make sense of the world. An intrepid spirit with an indefatigable enthusiasm for storytelling, she currently works as a Content Designer at Google and is based in San Francisco.
What object do you think personifies you?
I've always been a forager, picking up things lost to time and nature and trying to fashion something out of it. For most of my childhood, I foraged sand from different places and stored it in tiny glass and plastic jars. I gathered sea urchin spines to scratch slates, leaves and flowers and left them to dry in the Madras sun, and feathers that I pressed between pages of books to see if they sprouted baby feathers.
Although school, college and figuring out my life's destiny distracted me for most of my adolescence and adulthood, I've been returning to this habit more recently. The Forest Walk in Singapore is solely responsible for reawakening this forager in me. That walk often made me pause, take in the spectacular feat of human-made walkways erected against the stunning backdrop of Keppel Bay and Mount Faber and pick up random objects scattered by nature along the path.
One day, I picked up a wind-swept branch from its floor. It had so much character. Time, life and the wind had left indelible impressions on it. It spoke to me deeply and reminded me of this verse from Sarojini Naidu's poem, Wandering Singers:
"Where the voice of the wind calls our wandering feet,
Through echoing forest and echoing street,
With lutes in our hands ever-singing we roam,
All men are our kindred, the world is our home."
In the past three years, I've lived across three countries, letting my whims (and the wind?) dictate where I landed. In many ways, I feel akin to that branch right now. Turbulent but tough, a bit skewed but finding beauty amidst the chaos.
From that day on, it adorned my shelf. But, I left it behind in Singapore when I moved, hoping a part of me always remains in a place that meant so much to me.
How about if you could be any object — what would you want to be?
As clichéd as this sounds, I'd love to be a pen or a book because it is one of the most intimate ways to connect with another human. Reading and writing have always been my life's most transformative, humbling and empowering experiences.
I still write by hand more than I type and have a pile of favourite pens and notebooks, so much so that I'm ashamed to say they filled six boxes during my move. Having been a journaler all my life, I switched over to the A5 6mm Muji notebooks sometime around 2010. And for the last 13 years, it's been my trusted go-to journal. So, I'd happily be an A5 6mm Muji ruled notebook.
Lastly, what is an object that holds memories for you?
Forgive me while I choose two.
Firstly, this South Indian coffee filter. I had shifted to store-bought cappuccinos and instant coffee when I read an article questioning the quality of life we live if we can't brew fresh coffee every morning. That simple truth sent me crawling back to my roots.
Now, my default is my home-brewed South Indian filter coffee. For this, I use an apparatus — a form of percolation filter made of stainless steel. I get medium ground pre-packaged Indian coffee powder. Sometimes it has a little kick of chicory in it. I tamp it down on the top part, pour water that has just begun to bubble up, tap and close the lid. Gravity and magic do their thing, and I get a bittersweet coffee syrup at the bottom after percolation. I mix this with hot milk, whip it to froth, add sugar, and that's how I make my coffee daily.
I have lugged around this mammoth fading coffee filter gifted to my parents at their wedding across cities. It still has their initials “CR” engraved on the metal. It is a constant reminder to acknowledge my journey, take stock of my life, and slow down if needed.
Secondly, it’s this Greek sculpture of a woman. My husband, Neil, and I picked this up in Milos in 2018, wandering the Adamantas area after consuming margaritas, Freddo espressos (iced coffees) and ice cream sorbets one late afternoon. It reminded me of all the Grecian art we had witnessed during our unforgettable trip.
The statue has crumbled over the five years that it's been in our possession due to time. But, somehow, I don't have the heart to throw it out. It's travelled with us from India to Singapore and now to the US. Someday, I hope to kintsugi it. Every time I look at it, it makes me happy and makes me dream of living there someday.
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Catch up on past features:
#30 Getting to know Louisiana Mei Gelpi, Digital Producer at Atmos
#29 It’s all play and no waste for Emma Cali, Repair Technician at Patagonia