From The Quill

 The cocoon is dark and cold, I feel suffocated inside. I felt the end was near, and then I saw sunlight  The setting red hues and I hear a crack, Is that blood I see in the sky? No, I see a drop of red in me. I flutter restless to realise the cocoon has finally cracked. I was free as a bird, soaring high, I emerged as red as the sun. My wings as red as a drop of blood on a human hand. I was free, liberated, anew. Or was I? Yet my soul remains trapped In a new body of mortality. ~ Suranya

 Can I ever be pure again, from the heart, soul, mind and body? Be Chast in this selfish world, that dirtied my mind with its sins? Can I ever be naive again? Oh, how my heart longs for it. I put up a wall around me, that shields me from the world. I do not want this society, its meaningless deeds and ways. I do not feel at home, my heart refuses to acknowledge it. Yet again the darkness engulfs me; the walls around me narrow Taller and taller they rise above me; I struggle to breathe. I struggle to find my way, for the light I see is not in the end. "You don't belong here." The bricks whispered taunts. I shut my ears, and close my eyes. I feel vulnerable as I sink. The ground beneath me changes form, I struggle to escape as I drown in it. Deeper and deeper the darkness does not fade, Is that Death I see lurking around? "Will you dare to listen to your heart again?" A mocking voice in my head repeats. I struggle to stand up, with my heart thumping. "Yes, ye...

This is a line I remember when Christmas comes to mind. For all who have no idea it's how the novel "Little Women" starts. As children, the day went in super excited mode with surprises, presents from Santa and also a good treat of a day out with parents. Going out for the day. And loads of chocolates. As we went into our teens, it usually got replaced by going out with friends and to church all decked up. The tradition of a reunion on this day continues for me. But somewhere in between this, I miss being the kid I was. Thinking about what all I have messed up throughout the year, and if Santa is happy with me or not. Today I sulk over not having a secret Santa while I gift myself some books instead. Christmas, I realise, just like any other celebration, changes in its importance as we grow up. But then, I remember this chapter from Little Women and realise Christmas is all about family time. And when you grow older with a handful of friends you can count on your fingers,...

Gayero se kya Sikhayat karna, apne bhi kaha samajhte hai tumhe? Apno se kya sikayat karna, wo bas pehchante hai tumhe. Par kya tumne andar jhaak ke dekha? Pucha apne aap se, Kaha hai manzil, kya janta bhi hai dil? Bas Musafir hai ek anjaab safar mein. Koi apna nahi koi gayer nahi. Kabhi Andhero mein dekho toh, Parchayee bhi kaha sath deti hai? Apno se kya Shikwa karna jab khud bhi kaha Tumko pata hai, ke Dil akhir Chahta kya hai? ~ Suranya

The waves were crashing at her feet. She could feel them. His voice was whispering her name. Her giggles were carefree and happy. Then suddenly the music player stopped. She opened her eyes. Sitting frozen in the cold, dark room. Alone. The lonely night was her reality. ~ Suranya

I had a dream,  I saw you in it,  Yet I didn't know you. I kept going back to you. You kept calling me. Yet with a name unfamiliar. I had a dream. I kept going back to the place Where it felt like Home. Yet I had never been there. I knew the rooms and the lanes Yet I didn't.  I had a dream.  I was happy.  Content. Secure.  Until I woke uρ.  And wished it was all  I could feel for real. © Suranya

Sometimes I talk like Geet. Sometimes I dance like Vaidehi. Sometimes I live life like Aditi.  Sometimes I dream simply like Rani. Sometimes, Dear Zindagi works like real therapy.  And Jab We Met, like real post-breakup healing.  Sometimes I think like Veera,  Or I cry with Naina. Every time I dance, I feel like a KJo heroine.  Every time a romantic song plays,  I feel like dancing in a YRF movie.  I worship SRK like the god of Love,  And choose my wardrobe according to the movies I like.  My character reflects the character in my head  For a good few days, I act like her.  Sounds mad? It's just a typically Bolly buff Indian girl  That lives in each one of us. Be Dramatic. - Suranya 

 He was in no hurry to leave the office. It was around an hour past his normal time that he decided to go home. Turning the keys to his bike, he rode home at a moderate speed. Climbing the stairs up to his fourth-floor apartment slowly, he turned the keys at the door. The empty dark apartment greeted him instead of the one that smelled of coffee and cocoa butter cream. Silence filled the room as he kept the keys on the table beside the frame. He stared at the frame for a moment. Should he call? What will she think? She had gone only for a day, and he couldn't possibly have any valid reason to call her. She was so happy when she left for home. Her smiling face flashed in his mind. He had dropped her off at her parents' place for the weekend. Coming back to the apartment, he had realised how much he was getting used to having her around in the past few months. She must be enjoying her stay. He had wondered. And dropped the idea of calling her. Twice. He settled down on the sofa w...

In a land of warriors, of battles, scars and deaths, she spoke of love. Love in the purest forms. Of platonic ways and breaking barriers of society. She pined for love. For some, she seemed mad. Others called her a goddess. Some said she was lonely. A widow at such a young age. Most flocked to hear her sing. She sang praises. Songs of love. Of hardship. And sacrifices. She found life in him. Solace in him. She found the life she always sought. Wearing a saffron attire, she danced in her own world. She smiled and talked to the idol. In his prayers and praises, she found the love she sought. Because we have enough love in us to last a lifetime without it. She was proof of that. People call her Girdhar's Meera. The princess of Merta, the Kunwarani of Chittorgarh, was best known as the saint poetress. Lost in the love of unearthly feelings. The life she wanted beyond the glory of royalty was always Him.

 I see the world, and I have a question. Are we committed to the idea of love, Or just falling in love? Because once we are in it, we rarely feel the magic anymore. ~ Suranya

I like getting to know people. Small talk. Large ideas. I like getting to know cultures. Traditions. Values. I like to explore places. New feelings. Experiences. Views.  Then slowly with the liking attachment follows. A sense of belonging. A right of possession. A feeling of care. Perhaps, trust? Questions crop up. Emotions are explored. There is a certain beauty to all of that. Getting to know strangers. Falling in love. While you are on the journey, everything feels magical. Filmy. Perfect. Flawless. You are in Love. And then it begins. Expectations. Jealousy. Ego. The bubble burst. You are tired of trying. Drained of emotions. You choose to walk away, or perhaps towards a person or place. A new attachment, magic begins once again. I see all these, and I question. Are we committed to the idea of love, or just falling in love? Because once you are in it, we rarely feel the magic anymore. Strangers to friends to lovers to strangers. We lose people in between. What are we actually ...

 A part of you dies every day, a new you is born. A soul evolves in the imprisonment of a body Waiting to be released from bondage. Set free from worldly pleasures and approvals Of forced and fake relationships That suffocates the soul inside you. ~ Suranya

 Na Galat Thi Woh,  Na Galti Kiya Tha Koi Na Bhagi Thi Wo Koi Yudh Se,  Na Kisiko Bewajah Saza Sunaya Tha Galti Toh Bas Itni Si Thi Uski,  Pardah Chorke Samne Khadi thi, Mardo Ke Sath Ladi Thi. Galti Bas Itna Thi, Ke Ladki Thi Woh Takt Pe Kaise Baith Gayi? ~ Suranya

Imaraton se bhari iss jahan mein. Ith Patthar se bane hai makaan kayi. Afsoos ki baat toh yeh hai. Bas ghar nahi hai kahi. ~ Suranya

 I sit on the window seat of the speeding bus The wind in my hair, music in my ears And I look around. Most of my copassengers are engrossed in a phone. Some in games, some messages. Some scrolling through social networks. The conductor shouts out stoppage names. Otherwise we are all silent. I wonder if suddenly All those phones stopped working. Perhaps we will have Some interesting conversation. A stare here, a smile there. And there will be many more stories To tell and hear While you make your journey Home. ~ Suranya

 Real, naked and exposed. The character revealed himself And the reader fell in Love. Alas, the world still didn't believe In Platonic Love. ~ Suranya