Chittor is a fine poem by S.S.L. Chordia which appeared in his poetry collection published in 1928. A true son of the soil, Chordia sings of his motherland. The glory of Chittor he has not forgotten and it is the lore of bravery, chivalry and knighthood that he revels in. The forts, ramparts, palaces and kingdoms are but the parts of the landscape. Through the cover of this small poem, he relates to history and fall, how have the invasions overtaken us, how the loots and plunders have taken place, how the histories fraught with capture and seize. The battles fought and lost tell a history buried deep into time. Chordia tells what Jayanta Mahapatra in Dhauli, while the former taking from medieval India but the latter from ancient India. How have the swords been brandished and drawn? How did the armies clash ? How were the pitched battles fought? What blood did the invaders shed in! What a spill it was in safeguarding the motherland! The valiant warriors gave their life for, sacrificed themselves for the sake of Chittor and Rajputana rather than giving away to, surrendering before.

Chittorgarh as a word casts a spell of its own, taking us to ramparts, forts, palaces and battlefields. It conjures upon the imagery of the galloping horses, neighing, elephants with maharajahs and warriors clashing with swords, maces, bows and arrows. How were they who came to loot and plunder? How were they who were about to defend? The bloody swords wreaked it havoc. The history of bloodletting dismays us.

Here is the old Chitor queen-like and crown’d
With deathless glory; in the long sad past
For thee the legion Rajput chiefs fell fast
Amid the shock of battle; and falling found
The lotus-heaven of the Lord. What streams
Of precious blood they shed? What wars they waged?
When marched and counter-marched the foes! and blazed
Their swords in the dark hour of doom when dreams
Of pulsing life shone dim in them. They fought
For thee, they died for thee whene’er thy walls,
Guarding thy palaces, temples, towers and halls,
Were by the mighty hordes of Moslems sought.
O Nurse and Mother of the brave and free!
How red with blood the path that leads to thee?

Chittor is the first poem with which S.S.L. Chordia’s poetry collection named Chitor and Other Poems starts with and the poet too one himself from Rajputana sings of the glory of the Rajputs, the valiant warriors and their chivalry. The poet reminds us of E.L. Turnbull’s little plays. In our childhood we used to hear about the horse of Maharana Pratap while going through Hindi lessons. The poet refreshes the memory of Malory and Tennyson, Charles Woolfe and Owen.  To read the poem is to see the pictures of Mirabai. To read the poem is to know Rajasthan and its history. The poet draws us closer to Tod’s history. Who might have nursed the wounded and the fallen soldiers? Have you thought about it?

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