A Visit Recollected In Tranquility

Cameras gobble the remnants of the past. A granite pavement remains unbeaten, where the visitors trample on the old royal footprints. An artillery reminds the passers-by of a bloody harvest. Tourists stare in wonder what the ancient artists had carved in fear. All the splendors of the king perished, but his roof and pillars announce art’s permanence. It’s the royal chamber. Marks of the vanished beauty and blush can be seen on a wooden coat. Scars of old thoughts and tensions get visible. Nobody can fix the value of these coins, which had a fixed value once upon a time. Each urn in this museum is a reminder, casting its shadow on our pomp and pride. Rusted swords and daggers tell the tale of some suppressed dreams. The past leaves, and lives in the present. [In memory of my visit to old king Sakthan Thampuran’s Palace] First published in Grey Sparrow Journal, US.