As author Amandeep Sandhu tours Punjab to research on his third book, he feels that the voyage is in fact a search for his identity and sense of being.

"I know there is darkness. There is chaos. There is helplessness too. But look at Punjab kindly while writing your book. Never forget this state has many deep bruises. And being a writer, it is important to understand that bruises never heal, we just try to cover them. So show all the sympathy you have."

A star journalist based in Amritsar, who's covered Punjab during the peak of terrorism, said this to writer Amandeep Sandhu, who is in the state to research on his latest book Journey Through Fault Lines, to be published by Harper Collins. Sandhu just listened to these words. He didn't take any notes. "The former journalist had a mental breakdown several years ago but senior editors in the region insisted that the narrative of contemporary Punjab would be incomplete without him. "Now I know why," says the 43-year-old writer who has written two books Sepia Leaves and Roll of Honour (both published by Rupa in 2007 and 2012 respectively).

The writer, who was a Fellow at Akademie Schloss Solitude in Germany between 2013 and 2015, has worked as a farm hand, woolengarment seller, shop assistant, tuition teacher and a journalist. He left Punjab for Orissa after being "threatened by both terrorists and the Police" and insists that it was important for him to come back to the state and see it with a new perspective.

"I left my corporate job back in Bangalore where I now live, to travel across Punjab, meet locals and intellectuals, and see for myself if the state has healed after quarter of a century since guns fell silent. I had left in haste and it was high time that I came back to complete the circle. It was important that I did it for myself for there are times that a part of one's being is left behind in a space and you need to go back to reclaim it."

Stressing that Punjab has not really been narrated well and this being the golden jubilee year of the state, it warranted an honest insight into the psyche of the people here, Sandhu says, "And someone had to tell the world that the so-called Punjabi aggression is a mere put-on. Someone had to look deep and ignore the popular perception of swaying fields and dancing farmers." With the preparations for the 2017 Assembly elections already in full swing, the writer hopes that his book bridges the gap between the present-day political discourse and lived reality of the people.

"To understand a place, it is important to observe what breaks it, where the delicate joints are. Suddenly, the Sutlej-Yamuna link is a big issue. The ruling Badal family has managed to come back in the middle of Punjab's discourse keeping in mind the upcoming elections. Of course, nobody is talking about the fact that east of Punjab has become a desert."

For Sandhu, the "lack of a dream", a consequence of sorts of the failing industries and breaking up of the joint family system and crisis in education are some of the reasons behind the much-talked about drug menace. "Substance abuse is a symptom of the failing contemporary Punjab. And let us not even talk about the political patronage that the drug cartel enjoys here. Not even one kingpin arrested, and only addicts put behind bars? How fair is that? You really don't need an expert to decipher that the whole system is on the brink of a collapse," he says.

The writer, whose previous books have a very strong autobiographical element-Sepia Leaves, which deals with his mother's schizophrenia, and Roll of Honour that highlights abuse in boarding schools, admits that he is a writer because of life's machinations. "Maybe I am trying to find my place in the world and understand if I am legitimate. And what is wrong with that? Why don't we have stories that talk about ourselves and help us exhale? While my first book talks about the lonely battles of care-givers of mental patients in any family where I give a voice to the mad in the family, Roll of Honour establishes the fact that sex is used as a widespread tool of violence in boarding schools."

And does he think that the past will never let go of his writing? "I don't know how to answer that. But yes, I have a very scr***d up way of looking at the world. But then I love it, so no complaints." As the conversation veers towards contemporary Indian writing in English, Sandhu points out, "Well, at least contemporary English writing has reached people's drawing rooms. I am just waiting for the day when it slips into the bedroom."

Mentioning that he still does not know how the book's narrative will play out, the writer adds that his journeys are a search for Punjab, a search for home, which he never had. "On the surface, it might be about faultlines, but deep down, all the miles accumulated are a hunt for identity and sense of being." The reporter he met in Amritsar is mentioned again. "Don't you think it will be a good idea to look at Punjab through its mental asylums? If we miss them, that's where we might end up.