Of chalk and cheese, and yin and yang

Two strangers meet on a flight and end up talking for almost 15 hours and 30 minutes. They go their own ways, but something lingers — a bond that refuses to go away. That’s the premise of author Sonia Bahl’s second novel A Year Of Wednesdays.  There is poignancy, humour and a firm belief that unexpected and undeniable human connections are everything. A story should be worth telling, Sonia believes. “It should have the power to transcend formats and touch people,” she says. An excerpt from a chat.... 

How did the idea of the book strike you? 

I think we constantly live with ideas that are core to our affinities and beliefs. In my case, perhaps, it has something to do with having moved around so much — India, Indonesia, the US, Belgium, South Africa and Singapore, which is home now — your soul is less vested in places and acutely vested in interactions. The lack of permanence in places makes you laser focussed on the people you gravitate towards. You end up becoming a passionate collector of moments that endure. As a storyteller, I suppose it translates to me finding my voice in themes about deep connection in the swirl of differences. The things that bring us together.

What was the reason behind not telling us their names?

By the time the story ends (the reader) and the two protagonists know everything there is to know about each other after an unplanned conversation. And that’s the thing about authentic connection. It’s exquisitely agnostic to where you come from — sex, colour, earning power — it’s never about your resume, it’s simply about the gift of a rare, authentic moment. And the dire inability to pull away from its magnetic field.

The two protagonists are like chalk and cheese. Yet, they share such an unexplainable connect. Human connections seem to be your forte. Is that correct?

Interestingly, one reader felt they were twins — with identical motivations and triggers. I believe they are chalk and cheese — inexplicably, sublimely—but yin and yang-ishly interconnected. The fact is we are neurologically hardwired to lean in to real connect. Forte implies mastery, I’m certain I’m not in a position to own that—at least not just yet. But I am fairly certain (and by now you must be too!) that human connections are my resting pulse.

There are some very astute, often witty observations on love, relationships, parenting, children and life in general. But to have two contrasting points of views and to make them both sound believable must have been a difficult task.

Haven’t you noticed how often a three-minute conversation can feel like death by paper cuts, while a three-hour conversation can feel ephemerally short? That’s the thing about connecting. It sees no laws, no norms, no boundaries. You morph into a lighter, smarter, more energetic version of yourself. Everything just flows. It’s exactly the same when you’re writing something you feel at a granular level.

The nuts and bolts of two contrasting voices in gender, beliefs, and language weren’t a studied effort. In fact, it felt fairly seamless. Not because I am a pro! I’d say because one subconsciously melds the personal with what one notices and has been impacted by. Not sure if it’s a plus or a bane, but I find myself unconsciously attuned, with a seismographer’s attention, to the dips and tremors in what people are saying. Even more to what they aren’t.