When the moon shines on the waters of the Jal Mahal, in the silence of the night, it sighs. Perhaps thousands of full moons ago, even the moon was jealous when Rani Padmavati used to dress up in her grandeur in the Jal Mahal, which her husband had dedicated to her. Perhaps in her laughter, even the raindrops felt jealous. The moon peeps upon the Meera Kanha Temple. Perhaps on full moon nights like this, the saint poetess danced to the songs to her beloved. Today, the courtyard of the temple remains empty. The moon shines upon the Kumbha Mahal. Where, perhaps on one such moon-lit night in her simple giggles and laughter, a teenager Kunwar Pratap had found home in his beloved Ajabdeh Baisa. Today, the moon shines on Chittorgarh. Silent. With memories. And yet the ruins look as beautiful as did the grand palaces once upon a time...
~ Suranya