On the bank of the river Ganges
Stands a wrecked castle;
Once echoed the battle wells, now silence haunts,
Moves within its corridor images pale.
River –the reflect ion of the king’s past,
When regal steps solemn adorned its banks,
Humbly then it slowed down face of its currents fast,
Skillful artists created musical fantasy,
And danced its exultant waves.
Witnessed many times its royal victory procession,
Rosy petals spread, gently kissed his feet,
Priest chanted hymns and kings bestowed coins,
Queen from her chamber watched his noble deed.
Extreme happiness is the stage before finality.
Lie besieged was his fort, he debarred from his throne,
Offered then he his last prayer, never cursed destiny;
Its king lies dead but there were none to mourn.
Petals which once kissed his feet were sprinkled over his body
Rest on pyre the colossal figure;
Her wild waves too eager to touch his feet, to bid him goodbye,
Wept she silently over this gesture.
At his last procession towards eternity were present attendants few,
Colossal figure icon of awe and dignity was now in state forlorn;
Materialistic life has an end never did he know,
You live life different but death remains common.
Like a damsel has hidden in her heart emotions secret,
Love for her king dead, generations have passed
But whose memories still dominate her passion;
Pays its last tribute to the castle his sole remembrance left
Which after years of isolation has finally attained salvation.
Time the destroyer of an impression,
And destiny the flatterer, rightful deserver of hate,
For matters them least the period of incubation,
Hunt like witches till one attains rest.
Honour or splendour need them not a man sane,
His thought serene, action virtuous make him immortal
And so chase him not these predators.
A perfectionist and not an escapist, whose action touch not the borders of sin,
Leans even destiny, time wipes not his footprints.