Dream of the Past

 O Glorious Dream of the Past, 

Guide me through this treacherous journey, 

Through the maze of this farce society.

O Perfect One, of the heart, 

Your silences speak more magically 

Than words ever could to me; 

Enlightening my heart, to reach for you.

In the darkness, my hands try to grasp light, 

Not knowing that the warmth of it 

Can only be felt, not kept, 

You are like the Sun, 

Burning every minute, to enlighten our days.

And I, your patient sunflower, 

Hoping to love you from afar.

Light years away, still we can see each other, 

In illusions of the universe..

If this isn't magic, what is? 

Confiding in You, 

I found this world fake.

All in the mind, what about the soul at stake?

Dreams are truer than reality, 

Past and future merged in the heart.

Death is more sought after than life, 

The soul more craved for than mind, 

For liberty is where we meet.

Confiding in You, in your musing, 

I finally found Love.

© Suranya

Meeting the Protagonist 2

 She is a bubble of energy. Of craziness and colours. Quirky fashion senses. Childish antics. That often makes you smile. She would be impulsive in nature. With a heart rare to find. She makes you feel the world is about her madness. There is also another side to her. A side that prays like she talks to god. A side that puts others before herself. She is the strength of her loved ones, the peace of his heart. She dresses like she wants. Dares to show her emotions. Sometimes, she is at a loss for words. Sometimes she speaks too much. Sometimes she is hope personified. More often than not, she stands like a pillar of strength for her loved ones in times of desperate need. And at times, a turbulence of emotions. She is at times the perfect wife, mother and daughter. A friend in need. She is the perfect businesswoman in one. Fights with the sword in another. She dances. She sings. She smiles. She cries. Vividly, I visualise her eyes sparkling when she writes. Or perhaps stands at Moti Magri. Yet, she is not the perfect example of a heroine you often read about in books or see in movies. She is not about a perfect hairdo or a designer dress, or gaudy jewellery. She never was. She does not have a beautiful face. Her eyes speak volumes. She is not about the perfect touch of foundation and Kohl. She is raw and uncensored. Beauty, as we know it, withers with time. A beautiful soul remains. Perhaps that is why I chose to make her strange and imperfect. She doesn't care much about how she looks or how people judge her. He, in turn, falls for her beautiful, unique soul. In between the lines, she is deeper than she shows. Eras apart, she is a blend of bravery, strength and stability in his life. She is a part of me. What I want to be. What I am at times. She is my perfectly flawed heroine. She is Princy's Strange girl and Pratap's Ajabdeh.

Ps. This one is a special for all the stories in the Love Story section of Raabta

You

Hold on to Yourself.

Let go of others.

See what remains.

Who stays.

Make them special.

Not everyone is worth YOU.

- Suranya

Stranger

 Dear Stranger in my dreams, 

I have travelled to thoughts extreme, 

And places I have never been 

In search of You.

A key in hand, I have struggled 

Through finding its match; 

A lock at sight, I lost the key I had.

I knew not where to find you 

So I waited for you to find me.

Time turned tides, my body fails me, 

The bridge has collapsed on my side of reality, 

Like sand grains falling off the tightened fist, 

You slip away in my memory.

Your voice fades with each passing day, 

Your countenance is a figment of imagination 

Before I know it, you aren't you.

I know there is no escape. 

I know I have to cross the river 

Swim across or drown in it 

Trying to get back to you.

I wait every day, with every breath of life 

Just to see your face near me.

Enlighten me, O Great One, 

You live within me

Yet why do you hide yourself?

Our souls have roamed through eras, 

Decades and ages, names and faces 

Through the cycles of birth and rebirth 

And finally, we meet each other here, 

At the juncture of night and day, 

The Divine light of dawn and dusk, 

In Love, unexplainable to the world 

In their ways and words, 

Like the Lover, and his Beloved.

© Suranya

Hobby

 You wondered why I kept such weird hobbies 

Of recording places and people. 

I smile often at every conversation 

Laughter and song; replayed. 

In between the sound of waves. 

I hear your voice call my name; 

And now that you are gone, 

It serves as a gentle reminder 

Things are never going to be the same.

© Suranya

Fragile

 Boxes and boxes, heaps of them

In different shapes and sizes.

Huge ones tagged "Mistakes", "Regrets"

Smaller ones "Happiness", in a storehouse called "Mind"

Overloaded with time.

But the greatest of them remain locked,

In one of the thousand rooms.

The key hidden; perhaps somewhere in those heaps.

No one enters the storehouse anymore.

With the fear of being locked and lost.

Dust settling in the boxes inside

Spiders making their homes.

"Regrets" becomes larger; "Happiness" is lost in transit.

Then one day, you chance upon this warehouse of chaos.

You smell the adventure you seek,

And in between the heap, you find a key.

Mystery makes your heart race,

And you find a puzzle in me.

Inside the room, where the key turns,

A huge box pulsates, so you are careful with it.

Opening the chest, you smile at the treasure.

You finally find a heart, alive and beating,

One with dreams hope and love,

Rare and precious in this pretentious world;

Scared of vulnerability from lessons of the past.

You pick up the boxes with care,

Delicately open them all,

And you find a note that says:

"My heart remains Fragile, handle it with care.

~ Suranya

Vaisakhi

 Ek vaisakhi woh bhi tha 

Jab khushiyon ki nahi 

Goliyon ki baarish hui thi.

Insaniyat ko marne ke liye 

Bandooke chali thi.

Na Hindu tha koi na Musalman 

Na Sikh na Jain.

Jo sath awaze uthi thi.

Dusmano ke khilaf ussdin 

Bharat ek sath khadi thi.

Sunsaan padha aj woh jagah dekho 

Chupke aasu bahati.

Aj desh k log ek dusre se larr jaate jaate 

Unko yaad koi nahi karte.

~ Suranya

Insult

History is proof that 

Every time you insult Her 

The Fire in her destroys you 

And the Storm in her, 

Destroys your society.

- Suranya

Mistake

 If you haven't made mistakes and blunders

That means you haven't ever followed your heart.

And that's breathing and surviving.

Not living!

- Suranya

The Mountain Reminds Me of You

 O Mountain, how should I describe your beauty?

Your soil is brown like her glowing skin.

Your flowers make a colourful cover like her jewels.

Your greenery is like the silky hair of my Beloved; 

Like the dresses she often sews, your lakes shine,

Like the eyes of my fair maiden, 

You remind in every way of the damsel 

Who stole the heart of this weary traveller

Who left home, determined to conquer your peak, 

And with you, he realises that 

He hadn't left her behind after all.

For she is there, as much in you as in him 

As you gift him a little bit of her in your beauty 

Attracting his soul closer to you 

Just like she captivated his heart.

© Suranya

Home

You have lived like a Wanderer for too long.

My Soul is an empty House.

Waiting for a Heart that enlightens it.

Find your Home in me.

~ Suranya

Worth

 Written for TTT Prompt "Swipe left and move on"

She was an influencer on Instagram, a blue tick by her name.

Day by day with followers, she lost herself in fame.

In the facade of social media, she forgot who she was.

A pretentious mean girl to one, a pretty angel to another.

They saw her as a role model, inspiration, dreamer

Little did they know she was as bruised as they were.

Back home in the lonely apartment, she was needy and emotional

Always seeking validation from the world outside

Perhaps that is why her likes and followers mattered.

She was a broken heart, a clueless soul discovering life,

She could not hold on to people anymore

But the lonely apartment was not enough content for the reel.

So she decided to go on dates, strangers who saw her not as she was

Flawed, underconfident, scared of being judged.

A misfit for every relationship in the past.

With a perfect face, and an attractive body,

She smiled in the mirror.

Swiping left to move on from reality until it did not work,

But when it did she could feel her worth was outwardly

More than who she was, or her heart.

~Suranya

An Ode to Love

O Love, why do you test your Lovers?

Hide from their sight like Heaven?

The Soul knows you are precious

The Mind knows you seek patience.

O Love, how much do you pain your worshippers?

Poets, Bards, Musicians.

Passionate Artists searching for muse in you.

In their art, you are their religion.

Here I am, your ardent student,

Whom you often teach about life and things beyond it

With each priceless moment that passes by,

You grow in my soul, like a flower in a desert;

Realisations drench the heart, where you belong.

Love, O Love, feelings of boundless desires

Of being one with the One,

Supreme in nature and imagination.

My God, Muse, Inspiration.

Words and Ink are my prayer to you

Grant me the knowledge I seek.

For Love is God and God, Love.

What difference do they make to me?

You are the absolute being of my existence

The true essence of my purpose in this journey.

Love, O Faithful Love, You make me happy.

For I seek You not in people and places,

I find You in abundance within me

Like an overflowing fountain in the Garden of Eden,

Love, O God of my Soul, You are my everything

I sing praises of your might and your fiery will,

That turns warriors into lovers

And makes wanderers seek a home.

Love, O Eternal Love, you are my hope and prayers.

My reasons and result. Will and dreams.

You are the Deity of my devoted life.

You have your sacred shrine

In the beating of my heart.

~ Suranya

Borders of Humanity

 What is the sky over your head like? Is it the same as mine?

Are your trees this green too? Do they turn brown under autumn's blue skies?

Are the waters of your pond this calm? Is the grass greener on your side?

Are your rains too, as beautiful as mine?

Are your villages too often attacked, looted and plundered?

Are your homes too unsafe like mine?

Then what is it that separates you and me? 

Why do they keep saying we are different?

Your sufferings are the same as mine.

Homeless at home, doubted for our patriotism

They keep saying you are the enemy.

Once I had hidden for a night in fear,

As one of yours entered our village.

They said our people did the same

To your homes and women.

Why did I see his eyes were as bewildered as mine?

When will all this stop? Gunshots and plunder?

When will we see the open sky again?

It's been days since I stepped out.

The war never stops, man fights man

Carnage happens over caste and creed

"Yours is not better than mine."

Countries fight, and world wars happen,

For whom, because it is humanity who dies.

Nature with her motherly love,

Had gifted her children the entire world.

Terrorised with territories,

It is humans who made borders.

To separate you and me, and keep this war of might

To fulfil greed, power and desires

While Humanity ceases to survive.

~ Suranya

A Writer's Dream

Some day when my body perishes, my soul is set free and my identify is long forgotten someone may accidentally chance upon my note book. They may perhaps be interested in the torn pages, smudged ink or the handwriting and start deciphering the words. Each page will unveil secrets. Of my heart and mind. Of people and places I don't talk of anymore. Of dreams and hopes lost. Of my idea of life, religion and love. With each line, feelings will be explored. Perhaps judged. Based on the time and situation of the reader, they will easily judge me being right or wrong with my decisions and actions. Or perhaps they will smile at my hope with a lingering feeling of nostalgia about someone else they knew or know. Perhaps they will talk of me with others. Or not. Perhaps they will decide to throw away the notebook as waste. Perhaps it will end up somewhere destroyed and forgotten. When the darkness will descend upon earth after sunset and the stars will appear, they will perhaps realize in the moment, remembering my words, that my soul lives in that torn book of ink, words and emotions. They will perhaps decide against throwing it away and keep it somewhere safe. And I will live on through my words. For that is what every writer dreams of.

© Suranya

Shayar

 तेरे इश्क़ ने हमारे आंसू को भी मकसद दे दिया। कभी उनको भी बहते हुए शायर बना दिया।

~ Suranya

Mehsoos

Akhein bandh karti hoon toh 

Yeh raat mujhe le jaati hai tere dwar pe 

Jaha meri ruh meri nahi hoti, 

Tere ishq mein kurbaan ho jaati hai. 

Jaha hawaye baatein karti hai 

Aur umeed ke diya jalti hai. 

Jaha khushiyaan kahi mere andar hoti hai 

Unko bahar nahi dhunti main.

Aur pyar tere ehsaas mein hota hai 

Tujhe mehsoos karke jee leti hoon main.

- Suranya

Believe

Every time you stop believing, the Universe will show you something Miraculously Magical to make sure you start believing again as easily as you breathe.

~ Suranya

Balance

 What is hell? What is heaven?

Everywhere there is "He"

What distinguishes Hell and Heaven?

It is the perspective from where you see.

Right and Wrong, Actions and Reactions

Karma, Dharma, Adharma

These are limitations of the human mind.

He who grants life is the one who takes it,

He makes the balance of darkness and light 

For he knows without evil, good will not be appreciated.

Without sadness, happiness won't be precious.

And without pain, love won't be strong.

It's you and I who choose sides,

Decide and judge our actions by our limitations.

While he wishes to maintain the Balance

He wishes we would one day understand

That it is He who makes every part of the universe.

But it is we who turn them into Hell and Heaven,

By our actions towards Mother Nature.

~ Suranya

Phobia

 A little too drunk, 

A little too scared 

Words mumbled up 

Feelings scattered. 

Near yet far, 

Far yet near, 

Is it the heart at play 

Or the mind in dismay. 

Facing its greatest fear?

© Suranya

Memoirs of Emotions

 They alone become immortal 

Who chose the pen over the sword? 

They alone are treated as humans 

Of soul, flesh and blood. 

Those who leave behind Memoirs of Emotions 

Than Monuments of Dust.

© Suranya