SILENT


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the silent throbbing of heart

whose melody is unheard

longs the yearning in unspoken notes

when will the mingling breaths conjure ?

 

Like two souls lost in a solitary desert

beneath this canopy of stars

Oh ! why do I stand alone again

Whence the peeping  moon

quietly hides behind the  grey clouds

and  vanishes

one tiny drop curls and slides

etching a  dry line

every night thus

my eyes silently witness

©Soumya

“Suroor of the Soul”- Now on Kindle


Hi friends !

With the Kindle version of “Suroor of the Soul ” coming, we feel the book will reach thousands who were not able to get the book delivered at their destinations. Also the evolving trend of  digitization has made things simpler at many places, even in my country where a click can bring things at your doorstep.

Hope the journey of “Suroor of the Soul” continues by spreading the fragrance of illumined realization.

The book is now available on AMAZON KINDLE across fourteen countries.

You can select the region of your residence.

For Indian readers, here is the link: https://www.amazon.in/dp/B071FSQG7P.

You may also find it on KDP SELECT.

We both, Shaheen and me wish you all a blissful journey and a Happy Reading !

Love,

Soumya & Shaheen

Transition


Magical are those moments when we get overwhelmed by certain emotions, ones which are inexplicable. Certainly the ones which render  our innermost thoughts on canvas of life in varied colours and forms.

Impermanence is the law of life and change is inevitable.

Sometimes this transition is just  another change  else it brings lot of mixed emotions stocked inside a jar which get released together. Like a burning incense where the fragrance gets diffused along with delicate  fumes in all directions ,so are invisible emotions randomly scattering, within the atoms of the zephyr trying to find out their destination.

They travel collide, run, hide and seek the nucleus of this anxiety,or ecstatic movement. There is no kind of attachment or detachment defined  while in this condition. One feels free ,like a free bird flying above the seven seas and the next minute one tends to feel like chained by societal norms and relations.The strings of duties entangle the perching feathers of  the bird,pinion it to one pole ,while its claw tries to disentangle the sordid caged condition.It gazes at the vast expanse ,yearns to be embraced by the blueness and drops a tear often to be wiped by its own feathers. During the night , the vanishing stars carry its silent soul to another abode which seems real ,yet far from  the reach of its own flight.

 

When bloomed the palash flowers

Brightening the blue skies of my world

They set the emotions on fire letting those  buds

nipped off the branch and smearing the nostalgic ethereal dust

in plentiful measures

Scarlet or saffron ,the deep tinge evoked endless sensations

Which reverberate with the atoms of universe

in a seeking of finding its own abode

Whether at feet of the creator

Or lying unnoticed on ground till shrivels the petal with arrival of different season.

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The walk


The hanging branches of orchids which yearn to droop

And reach me

How enchanting they appear and soothing while their petals brush against my cheek

Isn’t the path where I step barefooted embrace my feet into its heart deep

While the nostalgic air brings sense of belonging to my traveling soul

Which remains awake for nights before it finally rests to sleep

Doesn’t the echoing bells of a temple nearby thud my core ,whence I vibrate with

my pulse dancing to the cosmic lore

will n’t I be teary eyed when overflows my core with emotions inexplicable and words get lost

in the forest where I travel

they like the new born leaves shy ,sometimes shiver as the dried aged ones do before they die

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I know not the change
 nights long or the sweating day's pain
Is it the moon’s peeping game
or the wildflower’s fragrance putting
Samsara to shame?
the flow of time and course
alters abruptly and ceaselessly moves
sometime letting the scarlet dusk
embrace me or often
 leaving the stars in jealousy
while the dewy drops sparkle
I await
momentous fancies dreaming of being real
on the sandy shores 
when our intertwining fingers and seashells will play.

©Soumya
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The Unsung Lore


 

the unsung lyrics of thou and me

reside in the involute spirals of life

sometimes being blown by winds of time

often displayed as colours of a tiny butterfly

Oh ! that tiny shell knew the lore

heard it while lying offshore

tis a fable of thou and me

sung by nature silently

beyond the perishable limits of life

crossing the impermanence line

yeah! it dwells like fragrance in flowers

as luminous radiance of moon for hours

in the dancing waves of the pragmatic ocean

in the notes of reed made with blades of scattered plants

growing far in forests or like the sanddunes of a desert…

 

Hear the melody

we blend as music and words

in moments of ecstasy.

 

 

Like a Bohemian


Like a bohemian she moved to places
A nomad at heart
as a bird in sky
swirling the colourful skirt of aspirations
paints down every town red and and streaks of turquoise

hadn’t the cuckoo perched every branch
hiding from the limelight
beneath the vast azure she vanishes
as a star during daylight

what if the colours create a motif
of a saga in humble words
she runs behind the tall corridors
where sleeps since years a history epical…

do not dissect the words or rhyme
forget to decipher or analyze
her pastels sing
her trinkets dance
words paint
and voice charms
faraway the bohemian lives
away from the world in a  realm of dreams
moving under thousand suns

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An excerpt


She cleared the mist with her fingers etching the outline on the glass. The wintry night had left an envelope of thin layered fog on the window pane. She stood there every night after her dinner watching the lone moon hung in the sky. The moon wasn’t visible today and she was wiping the glass to have a glimpse .

The breeze knew the heartbeats of her soul and carried the message of her silent yearnings to faraway land of dreams,where dwelt the twin part of her soul.

Wasn’t it so unworldly, pocketing treasures in the casket of nature and reliving the moments at peace? Nothing mattered as long as the moon was visible to both ends of the world,they lived, breathed and felt the urge to communicate through the dancing waves of morning and night breeze.

How often the nightingales sang and the butterflies danced? Her eyes sparkled and knew the message was through.

Beyond several seas , the orchid had bloomed .

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