What I Hold in Me? by Shilpi Rawat SignUp
Boloji.com

Channels

In Focus

 
Analysis
Cartoons
Education
Environment
Opinion
Photo Essays
 
 

Columns

 
A Bystander's Diary
Business
Random Thoughts
 
 

Our Heritage

 
Architecture
Astrology
Ayurveda
Buddhism
Cinema
Culture
Festivals
Hinduism
History
People
Places
Sikhism
Spirituality
 
 

Society & Lifestyle

 
Health
Parenting
Perspective
Recipes
Society
Teens
Women
 
 

Creative Writings

 
Book Reviews
Computing
Ghalib's Corner
Humor
Individuality
Literary Shelf
Love Letters
Memoirs
Quotes
Stories
Travelogues
Workshop
 
 
Stories Share This Page
What I Hold in Me?
by Shilpi Rawat Bookmark and Share

The blue of my crown is the color of Deep Ocean, without any foliage, with no sun to form a light beam. It’s the color of dark waters, of royalty and luxury.

Back in the days when the first sun rays hit my blue tiles in the morning, I would glimmer and project enchanting beauty amidst the lush green lawns. My square body, topped by an intricately carved dome stands in testimony to the hundreds of years of life passing by me and millions of humans that have experienced my architectural marvel.

The Lodi garden estate was built as a leisure reservoir for the Lodi dynasty. Each one of my accompanying tombs has stood the harsh testing times-sometimes natural and more often human inflicted.

I was constructed as a part of Sikander Lodi’s court to be used as an entertainment area during the court meeting hours. As soon as the king was done with his first round of meetings, I was decorated festively with fragrant candles and rose water mists. The shehnai’s would come alive and so would the four walls of my chamber. Music that filled the morning durbar was deeply refreshing. My dome was adorned with colored glasses that would sparkle and swing in rhythmic vibrations of music.

King and his accomplices enjoyed and treasured my artsy interiors. But I always liked the evening discourses. The music was always an eclectic mix of soft romance and rejuvenation. King and Queen sat together for hours discussing a myriad of things; caressing and delighting in each other’s company. Sometimes they had tiffs and my gleaming glasses have witnessed the various red hues of the queen’s cheeks. Her blush, her anger and her submission have all been captured by my carved walls. They have absorbed the togetherness of this beautiful couple who now sleep side by side inside my premises in eternal bliss. With the coming of Mughals, my king’s dynasty came to an end and so ended my lifetime of warm memories. Some of the Mughal rulers took good care of me but couldn’t save my precious walls from being invaded and damaged time and again.

I am Shisha Gumbad. My glass adornments have all vanished and the royal blue tiles now only paint a devastating picture. I have become a heritage sight, monument of the past, a muse to many artists. Well, you may look and feel stagnant about me but let me tell you this, everyday I witness the marvel of different arts as I act as an inspiration for many who come inside my crumbling chambers to be embraced by my history and find the artist inside them voicing out more lyrically, musically, intricately and deeply.

Share This:
02-Apr-2017
More by :  Shilpi Rawat
 
Views: 375      Comments: 0




Name *
Email ID
 (will not be published)
Comment *
Characters
Verification Code*
Can't read? Reload
Please fill the above code for verification.
 
Top | Stories



 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2018 All Rights Reserved
 
No part of this Internet site may be reproduced without prior written permission of the copyright holder
.