The historical monument Moosa Bagh, situated in my fabled hometown Lucknow, is in ruins in the current state.
Yet there is something wholly liberating, grand and unencumbered about it. It is more than a relic, a monolith extant in the present day- it is a picture of the past telling us about Lucknow's longevity. Hence, yours truly was inspired to write about it after a visit to the site in February, 2024. Here is the eponymous poem that I present to the world.
****
MOOSA BAGH
When religion
alights unholy fires
and burns the body,
come here.
Sprinkle cold water
over these yellow sands
and witness the gaiety
of this place-
it varies in its
mannerisms
from the city's mainstream.
I hope
these remains
of the day
don't readily get
entrapped by
the rains.
But we are ready.
We are ready
to search for
the fiery language
breathing
on these
platforms.
**
We soon discover
this place bears a different melody.
It is not
a votary of fame.
It doesn't follow the city's
fabled paths
and is situated
in an
area of distinction
where
Awadh's silent sentinels become
the order of the day.
On a first visit here,
the legs will traverse a path
over the structure's uneven
stones
and bricks,
the legs will mount
the high steps
when
atop this mound
and feel an airy
pathway
making its way
and the eyes
will be struck
by this ruin's
beauteous features,
impressing on our vision
hidden secrets
with the proficiency
of legends.
***
Praise be
to its undaunted freedom.
Praise be
to its unguarded, austere silence.
With broken
hands
directing us
towards its
strength,
its fiery colours
hook us
to this place.
A monument.
An untouched beauty.
To me,
it's the city's last
open chamber.
It courts the moon
on an open dais
but never pulls it
down
like a kite
to flood the night.
Like a friend
reciting his songs,
warm and cordial,
it patiently
entreats the sun.
And us.
"Come here,
I don't have doors
and windows
and it's up to you
to overlook
the thickness
of lichen
frozen on
my walls.
Come here.
Leave your beautiful
impressions
on a silver plate.
The silver plate
reflecting the sky.
Come here
and instruct
all the voices
in the well
to come out
out of the
interior palace-
only then
will they
repeat legends
and folklores
and embroider
details
about
this vast land of
freedom."
***
Come
in my dreams
or
in my vision
for when the stars
course through our
inner world,
the sky must
be an open slate
and make
your hidden beauty
reach us
anonymously.
Stay unique.
Stay silent.
Always be
the city's
upstanding
sentinel
within
its
final
flanks.
***
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