The Other Side

She watched his horse go till the dust settled back on the road. Her eyes shone, but no tear drop fell on her cheeks. There was no time to cry. It was time to prove that Love was the greatest strength. Days passed by, then a week. Many a messenger came and went telling about the progress at the battlefield, but each day her eyes were fixed at the gates, for a letter. A letter addressed to her, minus the seal and title. A letter that called her by the name she had otherwise forgotten.

Every night as the stars twinkled, she sat sleepless and stared in the direction of the camp. That's where the sun set every day, almost as a metaphor of the darkness that engulfed her life after he departed.

Somewhere in a tent in the camp, he stared at the flickering lamp with a feeling of longing. A will to return to her. Embrace her and feel at home. He could have written a letter, assured her he was fine, but what if she replied? Or worse, the letter reached her late? Long after he was gone? Could he risk that? She had sighed in secret.

The life of a princess was nothing like a fairytale. It was full of uncertainty and anxiety. Helpless prayers and hopes. Boundaries she couldn't cross, emotions she couldn't show. All she could do was wait. All he could do was fight a long battle, hoping to breathe till the last of the enemies were slain.

A letter never arrived, but his blood-soaked pearl string painted her hands red instead. Touching it with trembling hands to her forehead, the princess looked up at her reflection on the thousands of mirrors on the walls of her chamber. The blood dried quickly on her hairline as she frantically tried to rub it off. Her vision blurred as she lost consciousness. In her dreams, he smiled, giving her his hand, one last time. Drawing her veil aside and whispering into her ears, "I will be waiting for you, on the other side."

© Suranya

A Life Beyond

February 1943, Vienna

She always complained about how vague he was with goodbyes. Whether he was coming back in a few hours or in days or weeks, she could never tell. He would walk away as briskly as he did, as if he were going to the market. He laughed at her childish complaints, mostly because there was nothing he could do about them. All his life, he had assumed that having a family would tie him down to more worldly things. He wanted to be free of attachments one way or another. But who knew what fate had in store for him when she walked in through his office door with her innocent eyes and smiling face. In a life of war, she was when he truly felt at peace. He picked up his hat as the radio chattered on about the impending wars and damage of last night's air strikes. She was nurturing the baby close to her bosom, smiling down at her sleeping figure and whispering her name into her ears. The sense of being watched made her look up at him as he smiled, almost sheepishly, like a teenage boy would if his crush looked up at him. He wondered if his fellow countrymen would find it hard to picture him like this, a man completely in love with his wife and child. She smiled at him as he approached her with the attaché case in hand.

"Are you leaving?" She whispered, concerned. But there are so many spies..." She stopped as he kissed his sleeping child's forehead. When do I see you again?" She held out her hand as he held it back with a silent smile. She knew he couldn't tell, yet it was a habit to ask. A habit to hope that one day he will give her a time and she would count the days backwards till they saw each other again.

She wished he would visit often now that the baby girl was here. She wouldn't want Anita to forget her father. But she remembered every word of every letter he had ever written to her. My first love... My motherland..." Emilie's eyes shone as he stepped back, letting go of her hand and walking away briskly... There you go again." She murmured. But this time was different. This time, he stopped at the threshold and turned to see her holding his child in her arms. Like he was imprinting an image of them in his head for a long cad ahead. Something in Emilie's stomach churned. Something told her this goodbye was different from the rest. This goodbye would be longer than she could imagine. She smiled, wiping away her tears as he disappeared from her view. She remembered some words her mother had once spoken as she kissed her sleeping baby and held her close. "Are you sure about what you are choosing, Emilie?"

"Yes, a lifetime of waiting."

Smoke Rings of Realisation

 I saw you make rings of smoke 

Of the cigarette you lit as we lay together. 

Your hand felt sweaty in mine 

You shrugged it off, complaining about the summer. 

I stared at my empty finger as the ring you made 

Disappeared into thin air just like promises. 

That was the moment I felt suffocated with you. 

And it had nothing to do with the smoking.

Did our story begin somewhere? 

Or did it end in a whelm? 

Did we know the date or time 

We promised that everything would be the same 

Or the exact moment we fell out of love? 

Was it a mere habit or just the pain of separation 

That kept us together all this time? 

Were we ever in "love" with each other 

Or we were simply the easiest option 

Not to feel lonely at night; 

To be emotionally validated or even 

Pretending to be cared for?

All I know now is that, with sunrise 

I have to pick up my clothes and bid you goodbye 

And as I do, I will never see you again. 

Because life is too short to pretend 

Pretend to be happy, pretend to be in love, 

Pretend that you are fine. 

I am not, and I am not afraid 

To choose me over you.

© Suranya

Friday the 13th

"What's so scary about Friday the 13th? So cliché." He murmured, seeing an advertisement in his co-passenger's newspaper. "All mumbo jumbo fed for commerce." The man smiled at his words. "They say spirits roam free on this day." He frowned at the man. "Have you ever seen one? Seeing is believing, sir. All these legends are only to scare people. Spirits don't exist." His co-passenger shrugged and got back to his newspaper, in no mood for a conversation, covering his view from the man on his left. The bus stopped at his designated bus stop. And he got down without sharing more pleasantries with the man, still reading the afternoon news. His co-passenger didn't look up. If he did, then perhaps he would have noticed how he got down, without waiting for the door to slide open.

© Suranya

A Story I Never Told

 I told the moon a secret, 

In trickling pearl drops 

And words of regret 

That formed the clouds above. 

The grey clouds took my tale to the sea, 

Who told the river my silent plea? 

In turn, the mountains knew my plight, 

And the stars smiled upon me at night. 

Now the entire universe knows my story 

Except you, 

Who should have known truly.

© Suranya

Forever Kind

 Sleepless I lay awake in bed, 

Gazing upon the moon and stars, 

My cheeks are warm and wet, 

As I look for You in my scars. 

I stand atop the mountain cliff, 

The gentle breeze passes by, 

Upon sunsets that make my heart leap, 

And feel the magic this universe hides.

I wait on every breath and beat, 

Where are you, hidden beneath 

The toughest face or sharpest mind,

The kind of love I wait upon, 

The Love that is of forever kind?

© Suranya

Masterpiece

 Fingertips traced slowly 

On your face in afterglow; 

Your curves and smile, 

Freckles and neckline, 

I stare at your eyes in awe, 

Yours is full of passion, raw.

You complain I don't compliment,

I smile, lighting the cigarette

As the wrinkles on our bedsheet

Form a Masterpiece in itself.

Adding colours to my canvas,

I make Art out of us.

© Suranya