Land Of The Ranas Poem by Samya Bose

I was sunk in thought,
Thought of the glorious past
Of that harsh sandy terrain
I stood upon.
Land that quenched her thirst
With blood of gallant warriors,
Whose gallantry will never submit
To the pounce of oblivion.
Where the rocky Aravalli
With all his immensity
And invincible self
Stretches along the margin.
The land where
Relics of lofty forts
Brag of the bravery,
One can hardly imagine.
Where enormous resplendent palaces
With their impeccable splendour,
Stand upright as the emblem
Of Rajput elitism.
Where pleasant moonlight
Embellishes their splendour
By drowning them
With a milky gleam.
Where flags carrying the royal insignia,
Still hoisted to the finial,
Flapping with pride and honour
At the top of the turrets.
Where descent of darkness
Is accompanied by
Strange whispering wind
That besets.
Where a diligent listener
If eavesdrops in the air,
Can still pick out amidst whispers,
The royal conspiracy unheard.
Where clang of swords,
As though is still resounded off
The walls and pillars
Around the massive courtyard.
Where one can feel yet,
The fidgety footsteps
Of royal handmaids,
In the desolate interior of the palace.
Where an imaginative solitary visitor
In a dreamy afternoon,
Is still left transfixed
Staring at the massive terrace;
Where his eye of imagination finds
An unforgettable image, as if
An idol of intoxicating beauty
Leaning upon the parapet.
Where still one can see a merry rider
On the wiggly back of a moving camel,
Or meet the ceremonial elephant with howdah
On the street, offering cordial trumpet.
Where vast expanse of desert
Meeting the ruddy twilight sky
At the horizon, lures
A daring soul to plunge, yet.
Where fine sparkling sands
Spread golden radiance around;
The radiance of valour, pride and honour,
Untarnished, until date.