Bhagyanagara
(from Avadha 1986)
Standing at this intersection
I ask you
O’ Bhagyanagara, city of fortunes,
where is the gateway to your fortunes?
What do I see from this height –
people tiny as ants, trucks, buses,
bullock carts, sacks on heads –
someone’s game of toys,
everyone’s conversation akin to chaos.
Those names scratched on the walls,
how do we know whose names are those?
Written here as though etched in history.
Men and women, tourists, lovers,
having climbed up these steps one by one
on this circular staircase,
they stop at these windows,
open themselves to the breeze that comes
blowing over from
Musi – Golconda – Falaknuma,
and magically vanish like chimerical birds.
What did they leave behind?
What did they take away?
Paths marched on to reach cities;
Shadows of the minars fell and grew
assuming shapes of forts and citadels.
See there, a rampart! Look, an army!
See there, the armoury! Look, the palanquin from the queen’s palace!
Is that
the sound of the temple cymbals, or
the call for namaaz, or
the
bugle of war?
One can see but can’t see, hear but can’t hear.
In this gloomy dusk, who is not with me,
apart from me, who else? Aah!
Whose share of fortune is this! O’ Bhagyamati,
Why are you still sitting here?
The dancing has ended,
the darbar has dispersed,
the sultan too has left for his palace,
the lights of the city are going out one by
one,
darkness has shrouded the minars,
the moon hasn’t risen yet, but
like a silver star,
your nose-ring glitters.
O’ Bhagyamati, thou who art tired after
dancing,
come and stand before me in my dreams,
shower the light of your love on this city
that bears your name.
§
