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History

on July 17, 2020

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HISTORY MEANS TO PRESERVE WHAT ONCE WAS. NOT TO RECREATE IT.

~ Suranya

Quotes by Suranya

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Am I Brave Enough?

You come home with scars and pain Yet I know your heart never heals, With my most skillfully made balms; The scars of betrayal by your own You have learnt to live with and grown, What else could you do? Yet every time I promise to be brave Smile through your goodbye Trying to fight back my tears For the sake of a title that weighs While you ride away to the horizon I wish I were as brave as you. You say I give you the will to come home After every battle, big or small, You win or lose, it doesn't matter You will always be a hero in my eyes. But there are times when no news arrives For days, weeks, and months Some say the troops are moving Others report them losing Some say you went missing And all I can do is pray harder For I am not as brave as you, To pick up the sword and lose my honour; But am I as brave as you? You can rise from losses and win Yo...

The Silence Screams

The silence is killing me Is not an expression For some of us. Silence is a curse A reminder of demons that chase us Voices in our head, sins and shame We drown in the noise of the world. We need headphones in a crowd Playing music that keeps us warm Amidst cold judgemental stares. We need stories to be told to us Like when we were children To fall asleep to. Silence bothers us Like noise bothers some people. The beating of the heart, The involuntary breath The thoughts in my head I don't want to face All come haunting me at midnight In the silences And Music works its magic Drowning out everything Questionable and Tragic Drifting me to sleep As if the universe Sings me a lullaby. © Suranya

The First Letter

He was struggling with his first letter to her. He had strangely written thousands of letters before. To his mother. To his seniors and subordinates. No letter left him in loss of words like it did today. What could be written to her? He had promised to write in an impulse. For when he was leaving for the battlefield the day after marrying her, maybe because he had seen it in her eyes. Tears held back. Worries concealed with a smile. And a sense of loneliness, A sense of getting lost in a palace full of unknown people. Truth be said, he didn't know what to tell his new bride. But what he did was to assure that he would write to her. For the first time, the sleepless night made him sit with a pen and paper and scribble. He had never paid heed to his words or letters before. They usually talked of politics and his well-being. But she... She was like a poem to his heart. Gentle, Deep. And mysterious. Reading between the lines was not easy when it came to her. He had wondered at times ...

© Suranya Sengupta From The Quill (2026) All Rights Reserved. All original content on this website Raabta including writings, stories, poetry, historical fiction, articles, and other intellectual property (collectively, "Content") is the exclusive property of Suranya Sengupta and protected under the Indian Copyright Act, 1957, as amended, and applicable international copyright conventions, including the Berne Convention.Personal, non-commercial viewing and reading for private use is permitted. Without prior express written consent from the copyright holder, the following uses are strictly prohibited: (i) reproduction, distribution, adaptation, or creation of derivative works from the Content; (ii) scraping, data mining, crawling, or automated extraction; (iii) use of Content to train, fine-tune, or develop artificial intelligence models, machine learning algorithms, large language models (LLMs), or any generative AI technologies; and (iv) any commercial exploitation whatsoever.Unauthorized use constitutes copyright infringement and may result in civil and criminal penalties, including but not limited to demands for statutory damages, actual damages, profits, and injunctive relief. For licensing inquiries or permissions, contact the author. Last updated: February 4, 2026.

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