Bhoj Raj's Home

War and bruises, battles and scars, 

The hope of returning home fades further. 

But Home is where the palaces are, 

The stone-cold walls and luxury calls? 

Every soldier here, big or small, 

Has someone to return to, Someone to hold on.

Me? Their leader, a prince at war, 

My home is further away than she appears. 

There she sits, on the marble stairs, 

Singing to her Beloved, 

Soothing people who come to hear. 

The only heart she can't calm is this, 

For with every lyric, a flood of pain engulfs it.

Yet I find myself lost in her thoughts 

Feeling emotions raw and undeciphered. 

Her touch is healing, pure and holy 

Her words pierce through my soul 

Touches me in places only she can mould. 

I find myself at her door every night 

But destiny is cruel, my life its prey, 

I have given up this fight.

For in my soul is a temple shrine 

She is the God, my beloved divine. 

In her soul, someone else resides 

He, her blue-skinned, mischievous cowherd. 

Neither of us knows how reciprocation feels 

Yet we both know the divine reality 

This love is enough for us three. 

~ Suranya

Dance of Love

 Oh! As the Raag Bhairava plays, 

The emotions pour on the Syahi, 

The string of hearts on the Sitar, 

And the voice of longing wakes the sleeping soul; 

The wind sways and the branches dance, 

To the magic of music all at once.

Hear! As the music picks up pace 

Does your heart not cry to lyrics unsaid? 

Does the Alaap not make you yearn 

For someone lost, somebody beyond? 

The birds sing along in the morning sun, 

And somewhere the Beloved is summoned.

Feel! The way your body lightens 

Gives up on its worldly burdens. 

Your soul twirls in a Sufi Whirl 

And reaches out to Him.

There you find yourself in Heaven, 

As the music reaches its zenith.

~ Suranya

Lover of God

 There she danced, twirling away 

Singing his name, evening and day. 

There she sat, under his lotus feet. 

The princess, the saint, the humblest to meet.

Love, they said, was the strangest of things. 

Sensual, spiritual or unconditional in being: 

But the love she preached, unique it was. 

For God became lover, and love a cause.

But what about the world? She cared not. 

What about the society? Scared it was. 

For a woman stood, a woman chose

Who she was against the odds.

The woman lived, the woman sang. 

The woman left them burning to the ground. 

And she became an immortal being. 

Girdhar's Meera, still searching for him.

~ Suranya

Art

Art is like the soul to our bodies. It gives us imagination, wings to fly, and a happy escape if needed in the rat race of reality. Witnessing a pandemic, we are pursing our escapes of reality through poetry, Photography, painting, singing, dancing etc. to cope with the sense of fear and uncertainty. It is time to acknowledge art, that heals the earth, and is present right at its core, musing on the nooks and corners of nature. 

Roopmati's Song

In the midst of my melancholy night, 

When the crickets sing and the owls hoot in the distance, 

Standing on the pavilion in anticipation, 

I search for your face on the crescent moon.

The gentle breeze whispers 

Erupting my skin in goosebumps 

As though you touched my soul again. 

I shiver and wrap my quilt around my heart.

I feel you in the excited beat against my bosom, 

A tiny sparkle of a precious pearl drop on my cheek,

My eyes drawn in Kohl smudged, 

Yet a smile lingers on my lip 

As I sing for you the holiest lyrics 

Adjusting the strings of the Sitar 

To that of my heart, calling you home to me.

Did you remember me today 

When at dawn the cuckoo sang?

Or the waters of the Narmada 

Splashed across your tired face?

Did you whisper a prayer for me

In your Namaaz today?

Like I did for you before the Lord, 

Who plays the flute in the music of love, 

Just like we do?

Do you also wait for me? 

Counting every moment spent apart, 

Waiting to come back home, 

To the music we make, 

The love we create 

Words unspoken 

And a story perhaps unheard of?

There you are at war across the land, 

Protecting your flourishing kingdom; 

Here I am, Begum, to only your soul 

I possess not the vermilion in your name 

That they proudly behold. 

Yet I feel richer than them all, 

Who have a marital claim 

On your body than your heart. 

There you stay, perhaps lost in someone's arms 

Engulfed in an act of possession and pleasure; 

Here I wait to perform 

Sing and be heard, my only true desire.

~ Suranya

Chaos

Lost in the universe in specs of dust 

Lies stories of the ancient past. 

Or perhaps the secrets of the future it holds

While the mysteries of Chaos it unfolds.

~ Suranya