The dark river, draped
like a clinging wet sari
around the fleshy curves
of rocks and boulders.
Against an indigo dusk,
an ethereal balloon,
almost transparent
rises between the trees.
Memory’s lambent flame
in marmoreal whiteness,
cool to the touch
of history’s hands.
The moon rises,
a curved scimitar
honed to a glitter.
It sheds a milky light
on a marble mausoleum
floating in air.
I try to look at it
with the gaze of an emperor
who has lost his Peacock Throne
to his son,
and his love
to the impermanence of memory.
In Shah Jahan’s room, I realise
there is no prison
like a heart
which knows the evanescence
of love and life.
The Taj Mahal, the ‘Crown Palace,’ is one of the seven wonders of the world. It was built by the Mughal emperor, Shah Jahan, as a mausoleum for his queen, Mumtaz. Mumtaz is said to have asked her emperor if he would love her with the same ardour after her death, to which he had replied that he would make her memory immortal.Later, he was deposed by his son, Aurangzeb, who imprisoned him in a room from which he could watch the tomb across the Yamuna River till the end of his days.