A Fakira,
Cursed to be a Princess,
Lived and Died in Oblivion,
Her sacrifices forgotten
By those who wrote history
And sang the glories of the kings.
~ Suranya
A Fakira,
Cursed to be a Princess,
Lived and Died in Oblivion,
Her sacrifices forgotten
By those who wrote history
And sang the glories of the kings.
~ Suranya
Around the bazaar of Love I roam,
Spotting souls for sale, guarded by gnomes.
Hearts are being weighed for sins and pleasures.
Some sold away like valuable treasure.
Exchange of valuables, time and money;
For keys to unlock the hearts of many.
"There is no guarantee", the sellers forecast,
"Take at your risk, they may not last."
The gate of the bazaar has a signboard hanging.
On it lies another fair warning,
"Leave your brain outside for all seasons,
Here, there is no place for reasons."
~ SURANYA
In between the half-torn, half-lost pages
Of the past that once was, in ink and emotions
I look for stories of love, life and chivalry
Amidst the soot bricks that I touch.
A tale grows in my heart,
Waiting for the words to weave it together
As I witness magic unfold.
The wind wants to whisper to me
Stories unheard:
Of moonlit nights when the ripples danced,
Or perhaps how a lover waited for romance.
How doves carried messages across the land
Or wars were strangely the only survival chance
How years passed by in a trance
And homecoming was almost like a triumph.
Upon the ruins of the once mighty fort
Now in rubbles and ruins
The magpie sings on the dome
As I sit upon its ridge,
Listening to the wind whisper a song
One that I could sing along.
~ SURANYA
Showed faith upon constellations afar,
The Sun, the Moon,
A universe ajar.
Cards, Crystals, beads
Telling the future of human beings
Claiming to be written in the stars,
Alas! None could tell the fate
Of a falling star.
~ SURANYA
I see the blue hue of endlessness,
I see You there, Adi, Ananth, Limitless.
O Blue-Necked One, Destroyer Almighty!
Tell me why You can't turn emotions into ashes!!
O rattling Damroo, tied to a string of beads;
Why play like anger on His dancing grip
Why do You stir forgotten regrets
In the restless brain, breaking me to pieces?
I see the grey clouds swirling in the storm,
I see the Dark One dancing in whirls.
O Cowherd, behold! Preacher of Love!
Why can't You teach to endure the pain it causes?
O melancholy flute,
With a peacock feather on its tip;
Why do you play like pain on His fingertip?
Why do you bring tearful memories
That strings this heart, shatters it.
Does my agony amuse You?
Do my questions entertain
Do You know not answers I seek,
As I look into Your music for them?
Rustling winds, playing nature's tune
Bring me Your notes in the afternoon
Pitter-patter raindrops on the murky river,
Flirting with the earth, quenching the lover's thirst.
The music You play sometimes inflicts pain,
Sometimes it tries to heal the soul of the same.
What do You want? What do You sing
Is this what I want, what the soul seeks?
Your language feels difficult
To decipher and believe.
Understanding love, a hard truth to live.
Tears shed and emotions unsaid,
Sometimes the pain is a journey too,
One that takes me closer to You.
Then one fine day, when I rise above them
Pain and Love will cease to be the same,
You will be me, I will be You,
In the Enlightenment
That once set me apart from You.
~ Suranya