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In the dead of night
The sea water rose, a giant moving tower
Roaring at speed, lashing the city
Soon everything in its path was submerged.
By morning the water had receded
Leaving a flotilla of tunics, armour and helmets
Swords, tridents, shields, arrows and spears;
The bugles and horns alongside it
Rusting and silent, remnants of a battle
Whose clarion call was heard
In every corner of the land.
Gods once walked here, with mortals
In the role of mentors and counsellors;
They would prod and probe, guide and steer
Keeping grown men on the righteous path
Dedicated to duty and a code of honour
Mind free of clutter and emotional misgivings
Brothers fighting brothers, no quarter given
Till they saw the light
And the road to enlightenment beckoned.
But the gods would mock and tease
Would connive, do mischief and perform tricks
Changing shape, becoming invisible
Sometimes appearing in several places at once
Often standing side by side with the finest warriors
As the hour of reckoning arrived,
And all lay exhausted, the projectiles stopped raining down;
The sun’s evening shadow creeping across them
Wrapping the land in darkness.
Millenniums pass.
Sages and seers gather by the sea bank
On the anniversary of the tidal wave
To watch the city being reborn.
Under a moonlit sky the distant stars twinkle
As a mark of homage.
The sun will rise again
The battle must commence
The final act, the ultimate denouement
Will be enacted and played out
In the city of Dwarka;
It really did happen here. |
