In Udaipur I saw the lake
with your mist like eyes
uncovering hallowed past.
Then it opened, the past
into labyrinth hills, forts
and the palace.
Gateway to love.
I took that love
to enshrine mine
with memories
as waters rippled
and pigeons flew
on masts overhead.
On the way to Chitor
Padmini's wails aroused
fortitude, as the kingdom
of Mewar plunged in thralldom.
Intransigence.
We drove out of Udaipur
to Jodhpur, but your saddled
crest, and Padmini's wails
only defiled marauding troops.
So, be it with history.
Alauddin Khilji or Maharana
Pratap Singh, I beseech
so be it with history.
I will return to Udaipur
to see the dancing ladies
balance mounting war vessels
on heads with the stately grace
and billowing smoke
of Jauhar.
