From The Quill of Suranya

Ever looked up at the sky, The vastness of the ocean, The leaves or flowers, And two lines of a poem From somewhere — In a distant memory Of what you once read Come back in bits, making you smile? If it did, and it took you back, To days better than these, All I ask your kindred spirit is that Do not forget the poet, Who looks up at the sky, And sees a chariot, instead of clouds. Do not forget the words, Woven with hope, belief and imagination That arises from within the self, In an awakening of spirit, Inspiring rebels and dreamers alike. Do spare a thought, for the names Lost, struggling, putting up a brave face,  While another dream somewhere, Shatters into the dust of reality. ©Suranya

 The voices in my head, Screaming at the void, Getting louder every day. Some applauding, others panicking Mostly distorted and chaotic. I have tried to listen to them, To the wind that whispers in my ear, The sound of everything around me Deafening my thoughts and fears. Yet every day, even in the numbness Of unsure silences, the voices echo. They get louder and louder As if they are unheard. And I scream, in silent reassurances, 'I am listening!' as they laugh, 'Are you, really?' ©Suranya

No matter how far I travel, How uprooted I feel, How alien I become To the teenager I once was, These lanes bring me back To the place called Home. A safe space that was — Despite its flaws. ©Suranya

 "Do they know how strong your Bhakti is?" Bhojraj asked as Meera looked unsure at him.  "Bhakti? I love him." She corrected.  "What is the difference?" He asked, eagerly.  "Bhakti is flawless. It puts someone in a God's pedestal. Love brings them down to earth and makes them human. Love is not flawless. I can accept ten flaws of his and love him anyway. It's a choice."  "It's love then?" He enquired. Meera smiled a little, her cheeks warm with a blush.  "I guess it is." © Suranya