From The Quill

Whenever Life gets tough I seek solace in people of the past. People who mark their lives In pages of History. With their blood, sweat and sacrifice. I tell myself, "They had it worse, You can survive this." Lift myself up because who will, If not me? I treat life's obstacles, As minor inconveniences, Because they taught me Life could be way worse. I wait for things that never happen Put my faith in fate's cruel play I often wonder what life was like For all those immortals In the pages of novels. They fought all odds, Wins and Losses And emerged from the battles of life So why can't I? I read their stories with hope and belief That everything in the end seems fine. ~ Suranya

Recently, someone asked me about Book Recommendations, and I realised the kind of books I read is very different from the kind of stories I write. It's a conscious decision not to read the same genre of fiction because often your favourite writer's style and words effortlessly and subconsciously creep into your writing and ideas, and you lose your individuality. But more than that, I honestly enjoy writing the genres I write, especially Romance, more than reading them. Perhaps because through the process I also discover their stories and journey. I never plan a story or its theme and let the words flow. Often, the story ends up being utterly different from what I intend it to be. But it's their journey, I let the characters speak to me. This December, when the deadly combination of Writer's Block and sickness attacked me between two long-pending drafts, I found it hard to relax. It felt like the characters were waiting for their Stories to be told, and they were just st...

Some days you don't feel like getting out of bed, you want sickness to engulf you, finding comfort in the fact that it will help you rest, yet it doesn't. A sore throat makes you restless, and everything you planned goes haywire. You don't like the music you otherwise groove to, you can't write a sentence without hating yourself, you can't look at the mirror without self-criticism, watching anything feels irking, and you have no idea what will make you feel better. You try everything from self-pampering to pep-talk and often try to find some comfort in people who you think understand you. Yet, you oddly find them irking too. On these days, take a step back, stop being harsh on yourself and be grateful you got through yet another bad day, keeping your darkest thoughts at bay. © Suranya

The crowd parted, and I saw you again.  After how many years? I need not remember. Your hair has a hint of grey, your smile Now form lines under your eyes. You spot me, and your smile fades. What is it that I see in your eyes? Regret? Pity? Perhaps admiration. Someone introduces us again. Your job title changed,  As did my surname. He jokes that I write about lost love  Despite having everything I ever dreamt of. You look at me with a weary smile.  I pretend not to recognise you. We greet each other in single syllables. He leaves us alone in awkward silence  Amidst a crowd chattering and mingling We draw our eyes away, then stare back. ~ Suranya

I walk through the arches of the past  Seeking You in the little traces that last  Of Your existence beyond books. Of stories of Bards, that history refuses to tell  I look for You in mirrors and reflections  Within my soul and contemplation  And what troubles me is to know  That You never knew me. I look beyond Your bravery and might  At everything the man dreamt of at that time  And I ask the Dyers of Dreams  To colour my life in Your name. I am obsessed, possessed, beyond repair.  Seeking answers in despair  My soul refuses to stay put here  In an era far beyond Yours. ~ Suranya

You walk towards me  As light as a feather  As radiant as the morning sun  As promising as hope.  You stop as if to admire  A flower or a butterfly over it.  I am mesmerized by your innocence  Captivated by your smile  And I often wonder,  Is a soul as impure as mine,  Bathed in blood of dozens  Worthy of you, My Princess? Your horse gallops through the fort  People bow in respect  You understand them  Even when you watch from afar  Like a God they worship  Up in a pedestal above all.  Stories of your valour  Are retold to children  As they idolise you.  And I, secretly blush and beam  In a pride only I know,  For I know the prince they admire  Is the man who chose me,  Scars and flaws and all. ~Suranya

What if I told you this is not the end? You see, with some people.  It's a loop, rather than a straight line. You meet, you leave, but you can't escape.  What if I told you, we haven't met here But before we were, after we will be  In some other name, at some other place? What if you realise we are a boon  And a curse, in a maze  We keep running around. What do I make of this longing  The way I feel like lingering,  In your presence  And lamenting your absence. The way our skins touch  Sparks fly, it's not fireworks  But a whole show of lights!  What if I make you wonder,  What are we? Why are we here? Finding our way back to each other  Every time we decide not to. All I can say is, "I will be your first heartbreak  Be my first love?" ~ Suranya