From The Quill

There was a certain beauty in the forests. The rustling of leaves. The birds are chirping. The moon shone in its crescent shape, and the stars were slowly becoming visible as the sky grew a shade darker. She parted the curtains of the caravan. The light of a torch was visible at a distance. The dusk had just set in, and they were almost there. Or so she was told. On any other normal day, she would have noticed the rustling of leaves or admired a bird's song. But today was not any other day. Rumours were flying. She was summoned immediately to this hideout after ten days of the war and waiting. She had travelled alone, leaving the family behind in the Bhil village where they had set up camp. Her heart beat increased. Was it bad news? She said a soft prayer as the caravan stopped. Ranima." She heard her son outside the curtains. Come with me". The curtain parted, and her teary eyes met his disappointed face. "Where is he?" He had barely managed to point at the cav...

 I walk through the busiest parts of Purani Dilli,  Where Chandi Chowk meets the Qila across the street.  I stand in the crowd, wondering what it was like  When horses and elephants paraded by it. I walk through the old Calcutta lanes, Where once was a canal of British reign.  A ditch to lay off Marathas was built,  And then there are places where elephants took over the streets.  Imagine for once in your mind's eye  What it was like when Siraj's troops went by. I zoom past Haldighati in a car,  Wondering how fast Chetak was  As he led Pratap to safety;  Or how narrow the pass had been  Suitable for war in climates extreme. My heart pounds on significant days and times,  For the writer in me believes in another world  Parallel to mine.  A world that is alive in the past still  Where time is repeated in loops therein. Sometime somewhere in that world  Perhaps, like a dream, we often call the past  S...

 I see night break  Into dawn every day,  The shadows disappear into light.  I lose my grip on dreams again,  Intoxicated in the reality of life.  The blue Illusion appears clearer  Till the sun burns into moonlight tonight. Yet my thirst for love remains  To meet Your soul somewhere divine.  My soul burnt in flames of Love,  Tonight, I smile in peace. I choose to give my love a name.  I dare to call it Devotion;  I vow to wait like a queen does for her king  Endless days and nights. The wind doesn't whisper your stories anymore,  Decades have turned to eras,  Your name has faded in the oasis far away  Yet I waited to hear,  Hoping for You to show the way  To help my soul grow to reach Yours. Oh, where have You gone?  Hidden yourself from me?  Why do you not see me burn  In the trance of Your Elixir of Love? After decades of unfulfilled desires and suffering,  I give my love a p...

 Beyond the crowd  Of civilisation's woe  Stories of immortality  Of fondness grows;  Of star-crossed lovers  Divided by fate  Society repeating  The same mistakes. © Suranya

Have you ever heard the music each place creates at night? The winter night is long and silent. From behind the closed doors and windows, we can occasionally hear the otherwise inaudible trains chugging by the station a few kilometres away, or the hooting of the owl that flies by close in a chaotic rhythm. Once or twice, a puppy squeaks in the chill or two cats sound like a baby wailing, like a musical background score of a haunting movie. If you listen carefully, you can hear the sound of the breeze against the windowpanes. And breaking the otherwise quiet that the night wears is the sound of an ambulance winding through the road at a distance. You figure out from which direction it comes and where it travels. Then there is the sound of dry leaves rustling and the occasional footsteps of people walking on them. Does this city ever fall silent? Probably not. Because even silence has a sound. Perhaps of your own breath or heartbeat. All making music, all that can be heard in separate mu...

 The family sat on the darkest branch,  Of the neem tree beside the pond.  The Owl warned her Owlets right,  "Be careful, dear children,  Do not venture into the light;  It is a blinding, scary illusion  Not worth your innocent intuitions." "But why, mother?  I want to see the morning sky. I heard it is blue. Is that true?  I heard there are birds exactly like us  Oh, won't they love to be my friend?"  "Silly boy, what a fool you are,  Yes, they look the same but are very different.  Their thought and life, their clear blue sky  All are but a distant story, untrue, unreal  As we are, the creatures of the darkness for them." The Owlets listened with open ears,  Twisting their heads, eyes wide and eager.  The smallest one was perhaps the bravest  Or the foolest, depends on who narrated. He stepped out one morning when the sun shone bright,  He was blinded by the power of the light. He flapped hi...

 The call of the universe is surreal,  The time has come to feel  The joys of a new life. But the path leading to light  It is suffocating and dark  For in every bend fear larks  I must not give up,  I must not lose hope.  For once, I get through these difficult days,  It is only the journey that stays  While I spread my wings and fly,  Away from the cocoon of chaos  Into a world unexplored;  From the darkness that should not fear  Even if I feel my end is near  Because from this very nothingness  Comes the light of a renewed life that awaits. © Suranya

 I walked past a stranger today,  On my way down memory lane. She smiled at me faintly,  I wanted to hug away her pain. Until I touched the mirror,  Realised she looked exactly the same,  Only my thoughts were clearer, soul wiser  While she was still lost in her innocence. © Suranya