Showing posts with the label Ancient India
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To the one, to whom my soul belongs, You are missing from me, as is warmth from the sunset, palpability from the silence of the night and sleep from the eyes of a dreamer. It has been a long time since I last wrote to you; I do not know if you’re alive, if you’ve forgotten me or whether you’re travelling towards us. What I do believe is that these winds have probably accepted my request. At the behest of my anxiety, the clouds are carrying my words, and maybe you’ll read when it showers in complete majesty. Such silence has another reason- my choiceless self deciding to fulfil the physical void. Nay, this heart, for all those years back, I left a part of it with you. As our city sprawled with wealth, so did our memories with freshness to life and desires to mingle. The constant cacophony of apparent nonchalance all around made me realise something. The elders look at me for extinction, which is a fear that has been committed with our settlement. On one such day, when all the futuristic...
A different sunrise brightened the land beyond the Saraswati. For the people who had left their homes far beyond the Sindhu, the deserted land before their sight now stood as a testament to their woes. It was a land that was said to be blessed, but does anything really feel like a blessing without their loved ones? The undeciphered language of the Saraswati was music for their fatigued souls after walking thousands of miles in search of a place to settle, a place they could perhaps call home without any prejudice. Some smiled, some sighed, while others eagerly waited for their elders to speak; Hindavi stood on a cliff overlooking the route beneath, the one they had left behind. Something was pulling at his heart, and a strange eagerness swept through his veins. For a moment, he couldn't breathe because the pain from his memories replaced his desire to live. Every limb of his body refused to look ahead. The past seemed to have become his beloved habit. What made them leave the grea...
In these thoughts to my soul, I know not what to write, yet I shall, for these ears are drawn towards your home. It is the most foreign of lands that we call our home, where I and everyone who left the citadel have settled. A million graces of the heavens that before innumerable gnashes sheared away our desire to walk further, we found this sweet-smelling land by the Sarasvati, a river so full of life and plentiful. Although an envelope of sadness always wraps around our cotton, the conviction keeps the lamp burning. By the grace of Lord Pashupatinath, I wish good health and happiness for you. Wish that is all I can muster for now, as I am well aware of how torn your heart must be, shattered into uncountable pieces of glass. Such is your grief, I know, your liveliness parched as a desert. We came with nothing, broke apart with nothing and slept with nothing; a bouquet of memories is all we have to share with our graves. The sunset is strange, just like the day I had left and you s...
To the one, I must not name, I have lost count of the days we have spent apart; the last time I saw your face is, however, as vivid in my memories as yesterday. When you turned to take a last look at me in the crowd, I felt like you made a promise. You made a promise to belong to me as I did to you. Hence, every day, I go to the meadows and play my flute. Remember our tune? The one who spoke of our feelings when we were shy to confess in words? I play it every day, hoping that the wind takes it to you. Or perhaps a bird perches on the tree's highest branches, and I sit under and learn the tune. It can then perhaps fly southward to you and sing to you, my ode of love. You never returned, but your memories did. The children have started gathering around me for lessons. I have hence found a purpose in my life, which I have dedicated to you. I have been teaching each one of them in the Citadel the tune. I hope someday they will grow up, travel across the seven rivers and play our tune...
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Last updated: February 4, 2026.
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