Dark Night

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Some days give you a strange feeling. An emptiness. A sense of being absolutely cowardly towards life. It makes you ponder how small and insignificant your problems are. They always have been. Money, love, fame, success. That's all we know in life. With a pinch of selfishness. Greed. And lust. But is that it?

450 years ago, on this very night, Chittorgarh was in celebration. What were they celebrating? Their last day on earth. I must be joking, right? Well, I'm not.

I once read a poem by Abu Talib Karim that said: The way of the world is not worth seeing a second time, not a man looked back when he left this heap of dust."

But I still wonder. What about those who still had so much to see? That new bride who took the sword in her Alta-clad hands, the princess who perhaps dreamt of a prince. Those children were clueless.

A leap of faith. A battle for blood. Of honour. And bravery. The Fire God engulfs it all. The human of flesh, blood and bones. What about the soul? The unnamed immortal soul? Did it travel through time, take birth again to end their unfulfilled stories? Or they still live at the very spot the story ended. They roam and they bless. They protect everyone who has ever shed a tear, standing there looking at the soot-filled walls of history. Do you also feel a goosebump there every time the wind blows and whispers at you? Can you, too, perhaps hear them speak?

Did history honour them? Remember their names? Not all of them were that lucky. Mostly, history forgets its women. Because they were mothers, sisters and wives of their Kings. I don't want to forget them. I don't want you to forget them.

So I sit alone. In the darkness of the night. With a light burning just like my soul. And I take my own pen as my sword. My power to spread a word. Of bravery and sacrifice. I write. And I promise in silence to the Muse. I won't let anyone forget them. Ever.

~ Suranya

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