Every time I prayed for You
I broke into a thousand pieces,
I couldn't endure the memories any longer,
The pain was too much to take.
I lost myself thinking of You;
When my wishes came true,
Every time you walked into my heart.
Now I am not sure anymore;
Is this a boon or a curse?
~ Suranya
The earphones playing কেন মেঘ আসে হৃদয় আকাশে তোমারে দেখিতে দেয় না while I occupy the quiet window seat of an otherwise packed bus in the evening hours of a busy office day in the city of joy. As the bus approaches the city, outbound Vivekananda Hoogly Setu with a spectacular view of the Grand Hotel, Victoria Memorial, Eden Gardens, Samriddhi Bhavan, Princep and even Howrah Bridge from the top, it starts to rain. Sure enough, the weather predictions were right about the season's first Kalbaisakhi. There's something I look forward to about the first storm and first rain. Even when I am terribly scared of thunderstorms, I still wait for the wind to play across the city, gushing into homes and swaying the magnificent trees, rustling in a chaotic musical orchestra of nature, and finally, when it starts to rain, the wind makes patterns out of it. Soon, the smell of petrichor hits you with nostalgia. There's something about it that reminds you of good days and childhood.
Today, the rain dances to the lyrics of Tagore's song as the window soon blurs with droplets of rain. The wind is moist and cools your soul like no AC ever can.
I open the window just a little. The perfume soon hit my nostrils as I extended my hand out of the moving bus just enough to catch some droplets on my palm. The roads, concrete and leaves are all drenched in the first rain and it seems to wash away all the dirt and dust, cleaning the city like a cold shower in the summer evening. The street lights glitter on the roofs of the cars that zoom by, on the thousands of droplets raining on them. It looks like stardust on the street lights, making designs as they fall amidst the storm. The leaves rustle and occasionally fall on your head like showering petals, only harder. The wind tugs at your hair. The drenched streets look as good as new. The Hooghly ripples, rising up to catch the wind, too. The city of joy looks beautiful in Kalbaisakhi.
© Suranya
I cried my heart out today
Cleaned my soul of all the agony
The pain, fear, hurt and anger
That I managed to keep hidden
From the world for so many days.
I have a problem.
I think my problems are smaller than yours.
They probably are.
Hence, I don't share with you.
It builds up a storm inside me.
I try to break free from the feeling
Of suffocation, claustrophobia and guilt.
What am I even guilty of?
My own sufferings?
They say suffering creates art.
But my soul is tired and tested.
My overthinking brain works like a hamster
Stuck on a loop wheel and can't stop.
I am a walking red flag,
With my flaws, issues and definitely my personality.
I am self-absorbed, obsessive and sometimes
Borderline narcissistic even.
But I try, I will keep on trying.
Life is a battle, and I refuse
To give up just yet.
© Suranya
On the darkest night
When thoughts fight a battle of no might,
Wrapped in an embrace
You hold me tight.
You are a familiar feeling, of home,
Yet at times suffocating me alive,
Every day I struggle to survive.
You are yet the muse to my words,
The only companion through life;
I find you in songs,
And everywhere around,
Failed relationships, toxic people, broken hearts,
But do you know why I hold you so dear?
Love you like one very near?
Because you choose to stay
In your own little way
While everyone else just
Drifts away.
~ Suranya
All your life, you stare at Death.
But never even feel for once
That life itself is Death's flipside.
You are dying with every breath,
All your life has been a lie.
An illusion you travel through,
Is all that life is;
To reach its destination, Death.
© Suranya
