At Mandore Gardens

Deep within the walnutty 

crevices of our brains,

lie the pearl of memories

whose eternal ashes  

serve as a cooling salve 

to our scorched souls. 

One such memory is that

of a mellow afternoon

in the middle of deep winters,

when no words were 

necessary as we walked

hand in hand, admiring 

the symmetry and marvelling

at the sandstoned grandeur 

of the royal cenotaphs, 

listening to the hauntingly 

beautiful but ubiquitous 

notes of “Kesariya Balam” 

being played on Ravanhattha 

by a Bhopa musician.