From The Quill

 He lived and died in search of Love,  In love he wrote odes to the One above. She was He and He was Her  The mad man could not decipher,  Why he searched for her in vain  When she was at the tip of his pen. © Suranya

 I wander aimlessly in the thirst for knowledge Aware am I not? Questions shroud my sleepless nights, Awakened am I not? I looked for you in idols and stones  Temples, mosques, churches and domes I looked for you in the rain and the sun  Seasons that change, time that runs. In the chaos and the rules,  In the wise and so-called fools. Looking for a soul in despair To answer what I ask in dare  Alone, hopeless, I look into the mirror  And there a soul I see very clear  Enlightened, I smile,  As You call from the Divine,  Answering the riddles of Time. I am You and You are I,  Now I will not live any more in a lie;  I am your seeking student, just like Rumi,  In the path of Love, you show me. You are my guiding star, Sufistic  Like Shams, the mystic. © Suranya

 I had been a dreamer, a romantic lover  Weaving stories and fairytales.  You came along like a summer song  And gifted me tinted glasses.  I didn't remember in a love-drunk autumn  That winter wasn't far away.  Glasses broken, cold shivers running.  I wait for warmth in the winter sun  But you ghosted me on a cold night instead. How many more hearts will you destroy  How many more trusts will you burn, boy? Dreams shattered, heart scattered, mind battered,  Girl, wipe your tears and rise. You now know better than to trust him  That walking red flag!  Sweet talker, charmer, scammer Fake promises, white lies  I don't know how blind I was  Perhaps I can't see the Red  Or am I attracted to toxic traits? Winter wasn't far away But you left me without a blanket. Here I am, quilting my own Here I am, warm and alone I see you burn many more homes But I know mine is unreachable, For now, I know My love for you is ju...

Since the COVID-19 days, I have limited my bus journeys unless necessary. After almost two years, I started regularly using the commute again, especially for long-distance journeys. It's on one such journey that I looked up to check the rain clouds and discovered that the journey looks so different if you keep looking up. The sun, moon, stars and clouds seem to travel with you, and as the branches in their geometric designs pass by, one can imagine oneself lying on a haystack on top of an open caravan or horse-drawn carriage being transported back in time. Come the tall old buildings of central Calcutta, and you can see their exquisite designs standing the test of time, a small, detailed motif or simply a name plate, almost faded into oblivion. The verandahs overlooking the busy streets full of traffic (which by the way I suddenly realised looks the same everywhere) are often filled with potted plants, discarded things or a broken railing, and sometimes an old man in his dhuti sitt...