From The Quill of Suranya

Water over the head  Drowning in a sea of blood, Sweat and tears, blurry vision, A voice echoes in the chaos Of screaming bodies, silent minds.  Ideas do not die.  People do.  Ideas build societies.  People break them.  Ideas cause rebellion.  People suppress them.  Ideas are loud,  People silence them.  But when enough is enough  One idea multiplies into thousands, The silence screams into deafening noise Of resistance and protest; A cause brings about a crowd  That always hopes  It can change the world.  ~ Suranya

I sat alone on the overly comfortable couch in the room with blue walls and green curtains. There was something very clean about the room. The painting on the wall was abstract, and it felt like every piece of furniture, every bit of art, every bit of stationery was there to test my mind. I have never been to a psychiatrist, psychologist or counsellor before. This was my first time in therapy, and I wondered what he was like. The man who walked in after two polite knocks was rather older than I expected. He was about my grandfather's age. I wondered if he would understand the complexities of the new generation and the stress we go through. Truth be said, I did not even know if something was wrong with me, but I felt so overwhelmed lately that I could not sleep at night. That was when I decided to try therapy because my bad thoughts had by now transformed into bad dreams and nightmares that woke me up with sweat and tears in the middle of the night. I wondered if he could fix all of...

 A rush of warmth; It feels like my head is going to explode. There's anxiety and a headache, There's life and meaning, There's everything and nothing.  And no matter what I read, What I know, How much I distance myself, How aloof I feel, I am pulled back into a whirlpool Of emotions I suppress Feelings I dread; As I find myself slipping away In nightmares and afterthoughts Of choices I never got to make. ~ 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

 There are days I can't get you out of my head, There are nights when your memories Come haunting by — There are places where the wind speaks of you. When I close my eyes, I can feel you near me Just the way I used to feel, When your hands touched mine, Centuries ago, as we stood At this very place. Your thoughts reflect on my lips, And tells a story we have been living Time and time again Echoing through the Universe; Of a story that separates us, A love that binds us, A heart that yearns — And souls that know each other Since eternity. ©Suranya

"Are you man enough?" Someone sneers, "You walk like a woman" they say. "Are you really a woman?  You talk like a man." They say. They stare, laugh and bully, I turn to their ignorance as I answer - "I am Brihannala. Cross dressing in disguise."  "I am Shikhandi who battles his enemies."  "I am Yuvanashva. The pregnant king."  "I am Ayyappa, Son of Vishnu and Shiva."  "I am Bhagiratha, born of two queens."  "I am Aravan." "I am Mitra."  "I am. I am. I am."  Respected and accepted In a society  That once was. I wonder as I put on the rouge,  Dance my heart out in the pride walk, Never feeling more seen, More liberated, more validated; Do they really care? People stare, people judge, people are mean. But never before did they ask us, Prove who you are, biologically. What about my feelings? The way I identify?  What about my choices of sexuality and vibe?  A test to confirm who I...

I feel trapped.  In this body that consumes me, Bleeds for humanity's growth And is commercialized  As meat for pleasure.  I am caged.  In the society that binds me In the conditioning, I was taught In the resistance of my questions.  I feel suffocated. In the idea of someone in your head Of what a woman should and shouldn't be The roles you want me to play The character you want me to be.  What if I want to break free?  Express my thoughts, live my dreams Stand by my opinion, refuse your ideas?  I become tagged and assassinated,  My character questioned,  My upbringing dragged,  My identity jeopardized.  Why?  Because a woman dared to  Act  like a Man you could never be.  © Suranya

When an expressive woman is calm, it's not because she changed. It's because she realised that nobody will understand her anger or sadness. She chooses her peace of mind over her expectations from people. ~ Suranya

I have no words to say That I miss you. Except that when I do The music starts sounding A little monotonous  The winter becomes a little More foggy and polluted. My imagination finds no words,  And life has a little less meaning,  Until I find you again. ~ Suranya

 I find myself in unfamiliar surroundings, Wander alone through the complex roads, That intertwines like two snakes fighting for survival And I chance upon a stranger. The sunlight reflects on his face. Blurring my view of his features. “ Is this the State of Mind? ” I ask. “ What are you looking for? ” He smiled. “ Peace. ” I show him the address. He shakes his head, amused. “ It’s a difficult road ahead, you would need more… ” “ More of what? ” “ Thick Skin, Carefreeness and a lot of self-love. ” “ Then? ” I ask, intrigued. “ Then you will perhaps find a glimpse of it some day. An idea, an abstract, a utopian world. You will get there, slowly, when it's time. ” “ How do I know when the time comes? ” “ When Death knocks at your door, Asking you to let go, He will surely take you there. ” “ But can I not reach there before Death arrives? ” He laughs, a hearty laugh, staring at me, Like I was a child asking something naive.  “ You will find a glimpse of it someday. ”  His ...

The silence is killing me Is not an expression  For some of us. Silence is a curse A reminder of demons that chase us Voices in our head, sins and shame We drown in the noise of the world. We need headphones in a crowd Playing music that keeps us warm Amidst cold judgemental stares. We need stories to be told to us Like when we were children To fall asleep to. Silence bothers us Like noise bothers some people. The beating of the heart, The involuntary breath The thoughts in my head I don't want to face  All come haunting me at midnight  In the silences And Music works its magic Drowning out everything Questionable and Tragic  Drifting me to sleep As if the universe Sings me a lullaby. © Suranya

Love, I had walked to your sanctum Seeking refuge for my barren soul. Hoping to be enlightened Praying to be chosen By your grace. I encounter strangers Who promise to be you Yet, they know not what you are. I encounter promises Vague and unkept, Unlike what you vowed for. I chance upon kindness, A welcome breeze of freshness And people think it is you. I smile at naivety, The desperate search for your presence That makes them feel they will be Less lonely, less unhappy, less insecure. But you never promised to be so, isn't it? In the chase, in the expectation and idea, They have lost you somewhere A representation of you they seek outward But can't offer themselves. I walk down the road alone, Solitude is my peace, As I realise I have been looking For you at the wrong places, In people and things, But never within me. ~ Suranya

I gave you my heart  Not looking for lessons  Nor expecting to be hurt. I trusted you with my soul,  My identity, my being.  Why is it that now,  I stand at your threshold,  Eyes full of tears,  Heart full of questions? Why can't you look at me,  When you say everything was a lie? If I had known, love was this  The pain I endure  The betrayal I feel  The trust was shattered into broken pieces  Of my never-to-be-healed heart.  I would have never loved you,  The way I unfortunately do.  ~ Suranya

 Once, just for once, imagine if this is the other side. The heaven or hell you dreaded,  A place you believed to exist (or not)  Because your faith said,  There was something good beyond. A reward for your virtues, a punishment for your sins.  What if it's just this, your world of good and bad?  No other repercussion of your actions exists. What if this is the place and you don't know it yet? It just gets worse and worst, doesn't it? That place you thought of often,  Your perfect parallel universe,  A loop of the same lives.  The seeking doesn't end. Then, what is the meaning of life? Is it just to reach the end? You keep asking, till you can't anymore.  Your head feels light, Everything is meaningless.  Silence fills the void; nobody answers. ~ Suranya

 How many times do you die;  Before you are truly dead?  Your body and mind work  Like people expect them to work  But you don't think before you act,  Or say or feel anymore. You live like a habit, you don't live anymore. How many of us can say we truly lived To know ourselves more than what  Others expect us to be?  To do the things we want to? How many can say we truly lived  Before we died? ~ Suranya

 The rain and the sunshine  How everything in the universe aligns  To make us meet at the perfect time  We praise it on fate and stars. The particles that we are made of,  The journey and the joy of life  The reason and rhyme for love  It all comes down to why. And all I can say, dear friend, Is that nothing is planned Yet chaos is a system  Beyond our minds. You and I are like particles.  Expanded and contracted with time  A part of this vast universe  Insignificant in the divine. We try in vain to understand  The mysteries that we take by chance  As a sudden coincidence or divine intervention.  But nothing in this universe is by chance. ~ Suranya

Hey there! Welcome to  From the Quill: Poetry and Musings by Suranya ,  my little nook on the internet where I pour out poems, thoughts, and the occasional mini-tale straight from the heart (and a little bit from the curious corners of my mind!). I’m Suranya. Most of you may already know me from my stories and history-related posts, but here’s something a bit different: poetry and musings. Musings and thoughts often from the deepest corner of my diaries that I have kept through the years, and poetry... It’s a love I stumbled upon rather late, somewhere in my 20s, and it’s been a journey of discovery ever since. I’m still learning, shaping, and experimenting with it, but every verse comes from my faith. Over the years, I’ve been fortunate to have some of my poems find homes in lovely anthologies ( Poets of India, A Puzzle Called Life, Silent Cries, Remember the Roses ) and even pop up on amazing community pages like Byme Poetry, Poetic Reveries,  Poetry Grapevine, The Writ...