Warrior

Wrecked. Wounded. Worn Out.

Burned down to ashes of Mortification.

She rose like a Phoenix, an invincible warrior.

~ SURANYA

Family

 "Your drawing is incomplete." Scolded the teacher. "You haven't drawn your parents' faces."

"I am still looking for their faces in the crowd."smiled the orphan.

- Suranya

Love

 The term Love is probably the most widely misused by man. Love, as an abstract feeling, comes to every human being by instinct. However, it is often in our minds, attached to a person, place or possession as one and the same. Love, in its actual form, is like the air we breathe. You cannot see it, you cannot attach it to anything. It is in everything and nothing. And the absence of it makes you feel the importance of its presence. Love, like oxygen, is our means to survive. No soul is ever deprived of its feelings. It is actually a major driving force for man. However, the word is often replaced with emotions of greed, power, lust, or want. The love for such things makes one ambitious to reach a material goal. But unlike the spiritual aspect of love, which is satisfied once the goal is reached, the material attachment is never-ending. We have something, and we want more. Love, when true, is devoid of tangibility or attachment. It is difficult yet blissful. It is found everywhere in formless abundance once we rise above the webs of expectation and analysis to look at it in a less personal manner. The beginning of this path of eternal love starts with the small step of loving oneself and accepting oneself as they are, in mind, body and soul, unconditionally. Once we rise above others' expectations of us, is when we are truly happy. And happiness is a major aspect of finding love. Once we find it within, we stop looking for validation in people. And without expectation, love never hurts. Thus, the ultimate blissful love is found when one can be selfless in love, irrespective of reciprocation, and accept their most spontaneous feelings as true. It is in this true love that one becomes one with the aspect of love, and the love of form merges into formless eternal devotion to one's own soul. 

~ Suranya

Best Seller

If you ever knew me, 

If we ever made memories, 

If you ever made a mark in my mind, 

You are one of them.

A character in my novel of Life.

If you made me change, 

If you twisted my tale, 

If you caused me pain, 

You are one of those chapters, 

Diverting the plot of the story.

If you and I were special, 

If we shared a bond of hearts, 

If you left without a goodbye, 

You remain that blank page 

Between two chapters.

But whoever you are, 

However, we met, 

However, you left, 

Making my story a best-selling one.

~ Suranya

Mind

 What is reality to you can be someone's dream, and what you dream is a reality in some parallel universe. Then what is real and what is imaginary? What is truth, and what is a mirage of the truth? It is all in man's mind. Our mind is the most powerful and dangerous thing in the universe. With its illusion, we believe everything we know about the mysteries of the universe is the ultimate truth. Especially for man, whose mind, he believes, works the sharpest on the planet, the universe is a mystery he faces as a challenge to understand its truth. But what man forgets is that his understanding, too, is what his mind can make out of something with its limited knowledge. The thoughts of a mind are judged by other minds with accordance to their own knowledge. But man forgets that, like him, all other animals too believe in their strength as the most powerful. A cheetah knows it can run the fastest. The nightingale knows it can sing. But what limits man is also his mind, and he believes that he knows the truth about everything. In the process of ego, he dismisses the obvious that he is also a small part of the vast and never-ending cycle of the universe and time. He forgets that his dream is also an image in his mind, like his past, and his present is the only reality he lives. The mind of a man, set out to conquer the universe, is in reality bound and chained to the narrow limits of his own belief, observation and knowledge, and his ego blinds him from accepting that it is actually impossible for man to know every mystery of the universe by the skills of his mind. For the mind, too, is created by nature, as is man.

~ Suranya

God

You are the Home That no human offered me. You are the happiness, this world never promised. You are the solace my heart craves for. And no matter where I stray, how far or for how long, how tired, enthusiastic, bruised or happy I am, I will always come back home. To You. Everyday. Just when the night meets the day at dawn and dusk.

~ Suranya

Love Mate

You and I 

Live across the Universe, 

In parallel worlds, 

Separate lives. 

But in the end, 

We always meet. 

Where we are supposed to.

- Suranya

Regret

When the sun went down, 

And the universe was visible.

The thousands of stars witnessed

The darkest room in the city 

Always had a soul awake; 

A lamp flickering, a pen scribbling.

Pages and pages full of words.

Words of what if.

What could have been, and what is.

Words of dreams and reality.

Words that should have been said, 

But weren't, by the not-so-brave.

Words that shouldn't have been said, 

But were, by the short-tempered.

And words that were said and not meant, 

By the mouth that spoke in ego.

In the magic of stardust, 

These words transformed into feelings, 

Falling down as teardrops 

Soaking the insomniac soul, 

In regret of lost opportunities.

~ Suranya

Lock

His lock.

She had the keys.

Her locks.

His fingers entangle.

Their story.

Interlocking their souls for eternity.

~ Suranya

Hurt

Longing hearts, salty tears. 

The soul perhaps found solace, 

Telling its secrets to the silent night.

- Suranya

Destiny

Karte raho jo Dil chahe

Hoga wohijo Rab chahe

~ Suranya

Our Story

 Decades have turned into Eras, 

Ages have passed by like a stream.

You and I have met again and again.

You are not you, I am not me, 

Perhaps I am you, or you are me.

Our stories exchanged, lessons learnt, 

We separate again and again.

Our names and identities are lost in time, 

Our souls remain; 

Long before we live, 

Long after we leave.

Perhaps to write yet another story.

- Suranya

Dance of the Soul

 Like a Phoenix, I stood there,

The wind brushes past my skin,

Whispering wisdom, from the Supreme.

And like a free spirit today,

Away from the world,

Happy at the sight,

I dance in the moonlight.

Nights turn to days, and days turn into nights. 

Dawn and dusk pass by numerous. 

I dance and I dance, in a joyful trance, 

In the music of my soul and the beat of my heart.

~ Suranya

Music

Kabhi adhi raat ko, Music ke beat ke saath, apne dil ka dhadakna, haat rakh ke mehsoos kia hai? Kabhi subah uthke Phone mein time ya message check na karke bas yoon hi ek aur din ke liye, ya kal wali sapne ke liye muskuraye ho? Kabhi bina wajah yoon hi dance kia hai? Kabhi apne liye taiyar huye ho? Kabhi bina wajah yoon hi music ke beat pe rona aya hai? Kabhi rote rote hasee ho? Kabhi waqt ka parwah na karte huye bas chalte gaye ho jaha mann kare? Kabhi jo pehle mann mein aya bola hai?Kabhi kisi sapne ko aise dekhe ho ke woh sach se bhi bada ho gaya ho? Kabhi zinda ho yeh mehsoos kiya hai?

~ Suranya

Aligned

 And no matter how many times I fall and rise, 

How many people I meet or say goodbye, 

How many places I visit, 

Crosswords I encounter, 

Choices I make, You will always be the One I seek. 

For what's meant to be always finds a way, 

And souls meant to be, eventually meet, 

Even after waiting for eras, 

For their stars to align.

~ Suranya

Grave Matters

The last thing I remember I had a glass of water, and I fell into a deep slumber. I woke up feeling suffocated, unable to breathe. And before I knew, my bed seemed to be a cold marble cot. I struggled to move in the small box, dusting off the dirt from my body. Where was I? In the moonlight, I could sense I was beneath the open sky. How on earth did I end up here? I was on my bed, in my room.

I sat up and looked around. A thousand more marble cots. With tombstones. A thousand more like me roamed around the place. Children giggled. Lovers danced. Ladies gossiped. I walked away from my cot towards these unfamiliar faces. None seemed to notice me.

And then I felt a tug at my waist as I turned back, almost in panic. Your eyes met mine after an eternity. I almost choked. It's you. It's really you. Like you always were. I inspected your chest in panic. The bruises of that day were gone. I smiled, relieved. You have healed. We have? Healed. You smiled at me, took my hand and whirled me across the floor. Never in my life had I felt this light, this happy, this free.

I held on to you while you slowly let your hands slip away. I panicked. I cried. I called your name again and again. Your smiling face faded away in the light of dawn. Suddenly, I felt uneasy and suffocated. The next thing I know, I was back in my cot, unable to move till the next night, waiting to reunite with you.

O Love

 Love, O perfect Love,

How a naive man searched all his life for you.

Love, the painful Love, 

How a naive man lost you.

Time and again, person to person, 

And places far and beyond.

Then all at once, like magic, 

Perhaps realisation Dawns...

For he sees you now in everything and nothing, 

Just like Majnun once saw his beloved.

He sees you in birds and bees, oceans and seas, 

Mountains far far away.

Perhaps the sunflower, waiting for the sun, 

Nature flirts in its own ways.

And just when he had lost faith, 

In perhaps Love and God, 

The universe showed him everything around, 

Was actually Love merged in God.

~ Suranya

Friend

She arrived home tired after a series of interviews. Turning the keys, she sighed, putting down the files. Another day back to the empty apartment. The rooms felt cold. The silence was killing. She checked the refrigerator and found just some leftover juice and stale bread. Dialling the app, she ordered Pizza. Tossing away the coat and scarf, she lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Closing her eyes, she breathed in. The doorbell rang, and she frowned. Such prompt delivery? The door opened to his familiar face and smile. "How was your day?" He'd asked. With a lingering smile, she hugged him. The lonely, cold apartment felt warm all of a sudden. All she needed was her best friend to ask a simple question to make her day.

~ Suranya

History

 I have often heard from friends that History is not productive to any future use. Unlike science, its contribution to society is very limited. That is untrue because the ones who believe that don't know the real purpose of History. The stories of the past tell us tales of what should not have been. It gives mankind a second chance to rectify its past mistakes. Like the base of a statue holds the statue together, history is thus about the foundation of mankind. Through evolution, ages and time, mankind goes through constant changes we read about in science. That too is history. What we think of as development is just mankind going around in an infinite loop, learning and unlearning what he already knew in some era. It is like a circle. Like the early man had certain scriptures he had created, some use of numbers he knew, that literature and mathematics of the past is a mystery to us now. With technology and computers coming in this age, we have learnt new languages and mathematical formulas, and in the process, left behind some. Similarly, an age will arrive when something new will discard this system as well. But at the basic level, nothing is new or unlearned. The ways are different. This endless loop of learning and unlearning gives rise to a very popular phrase, "History repeats itself. " Well, it does, for the nature of man, his basic needs and character, greed for power, lust or ambition doesn't change. Time and again, he creates the same stories with war, building and destroying civilisation. History is the narration of events from one side or point of view. The events are true. The narration can be biased. The results of that depend on how one person views the event of the past. History gives us characters to idolise, learn from their lives, and make the subject of our poetry. Most importantly, it gives us untold tales of sacrifice and bravery that are in many ways beyond the imagination of our time. Hence, history or knowledge of the past is a very important aspect for mankind that is often overlooked in building a better future.

~ Suranya

Home

Home is a place where you feel you can belong. Where you can be yourself. It is where you keep the people closest to you, whom you trust. Home can be an address, a place or a person to connect to. Somewhere to return to after every battle, scar and defeat to nurse yourself back to health. Home is where you are never judged for your successes or failures. It is where you can be beyond an identity of work or position, or achievement. Some find home in mansions. They spend their lives building a perfect house. Or owning a perfect place. To some, home is a place they connect to for some reason. Some find it in people who give them the will to return to them after a tiresome day, trust and stay no matter what. Some find home in God. They confide in an idea of positive energy that guides them. Some may find it within themselves. Call their body, mind, and soul home. For a mystic, this whole universe is a home. It is where he belongs and doesn't. He finds a sense of connection to everything that is part of nature, which helps him muse. Hence, Home itself has a wide variety of definitions. It can often be beyond the four walls of brick and even in the simplest hug of a mother. It is anything big or small that you attach your roots to and choose as a soil to grow on, and bloom. And no matter how far you go from it, and what you do, you always know and remember your roots and your choices in life are often reflected by what you chose as Home.

~ Suranya

Inspiration

The word Inspiration has many definitions. On one hand, it may refer to something you draw energy or aspiration from, like a hero of the past, or God. On another, it may refer to a set of morals, values or ideas you follow. In another way, it may refer to a muse. Anything that pushes you to do better is inspiration. It can be right or wrong from another person's perspective, but as long as it helps you grow, it is what you need in life. Another kind of inspiration can be in the form of motivation, seeing the work or deed of another, which makes you want to do the same. For the soul, it is very important to be inspired, because it acts like the motor to a car, steering it on the purpose of your life and making you feel the urge to learn.

~ Suranya

Your Story

For every wish you make, every dream you dream, every moment you live, and every thing you achieve, far, far away in a parallel universe, another chapter is added to a book by an aspiring author.

~ Suranya

A Moonlit Night

The tourists have dispersed, the ASI officer checked every nook and corner of the premises and shut the door of the wonder in marble. It was another moonlit night. He smiled, swaying the large set of keys on his way out of the premises. One of those nights, when the Taj looked absolutely like heaven was imagined to be. The silence of the place was filled with the rustling of leaves, and the moon shone on the marble tomb like a radiant pearl. In the distance, on the opposite bank, stood the Agra Fort. The marble of the palanquin-shaped roof shone as well. And the moonlight entered through the jharokha, creating a design of flowers and leaves on the marble floor of the secluded fort.
The breeze blew again. Cool and silent. Somewhere far away, the fading music of a mosque was heard. The Taj resonated with what was perhaps footsteps. She turned to see him arrive. White as the moon, his attire shone just like hers. Eyes met and smiled. It was a night of union, of two souls who were forced to stay away from each other by fate. It was a night of reunion. Eras ago, on this very moonlit night, they had promised each other an eternity at this very tomb. A war had changed everything. But had it really? Janni smiled at him the way she used to, blushing slightly, as he whispered, " I am here Princess." Chhatrasal never forgot his promise. He always came back home. To her. To them. And their love.
Eras later, they met each moonlit night, two souls, one love, on the marble shrine of love itself. And the breeze made them dance. It whispered their story. But everyone said it was Mumtaz and Shah Jahan who were united every moonlit night on their tomb. Janni smiled, holding on to his hand. No religion, no identity, no responsibility was to stop her now. She was a soul beyond a name, yet for him, she was his Janni. He tightened the grip around her hands. Tonight was about them. About their love. Secret. Precious. Immortal. Just like their souls.