Royal beauty with posture awesome
Emitting aura graceful wowsome
Belle being from my favourite place
Of Princess Hayath Bakshi Begum I assess
A future IAS with tantrums regal
Inspires me to verse real
Beauty has found its new shade
Of course in my Goddess I bade
May you've a life full of furnish
This is my ultimate wish..!!
I hope these words will arrive.
These words dedicated to you Vhonani Takalani.
I broke the hearts along the way.
When am begum searching you.
At the end, I Found you.
But now I can not see you.
But I always see your shadow.
But I hope we will meet again..
Can I ask you some memories?
Do you still remember the day we met?
Do you still remember the day you said you love me?
Do you still remember our promise?
I understand we have been through a lot.
Please remember only all brighten days.
And forget about a darkness days.
These are words from me Ndidzulafhi Patric Munyai.
Poem by Ndidzulafhi Patric Munyai
Anyone who visits this great grand beauty
Stands transfixed at its sublime majesty
The lavish magnificence in marble body
Stays incomparable as an edifice in history.
The emperor who built this famed mausoleum
As a token of abiding love for his dear begum
The architect who visualized the striking form
And the craftsmen; all deserve wide acclaim.
A superb locale along the playful Yamuna
On an imposing stage stands this splendour
Surrounded by entrancing emerald cover
That makes any visitor an admirer forever.
Invocation to Mount Purandhar
(Thoughts of March 1966 recollected in tranquility in July 2004)
We are now entering the restricted areas,
There will be no more girls or women,
The presence of the Eves is erased,
There will be only Zeus and no Venus.
No telephone or telegram calls to anyone,
At the most one can receive a postcard,
Or can see a photo in their wallet, if any.
The magazines will be a distant dream.
Gone will be the decorum and grace
Which come by women’s presence,
Gone is the joy, excitement, order,
Copulation permitted with the training.
No woman in this military establishment,
Where the British kept German prisoners,
Except the ‘unclean maid ‘ in the kitchen,
Emanating a wide variety of odors awhile.
We won’t be seeing women for three months,
Except two peaks of Begum Para Hills looking
Like the two alabaster breasts of a woman
Lying in its ready posture of surrender
We console ourselves – there exists women,
Down below the planes of Pune City
And just because of the women we all exist,
Like the military personnel of Purandhar Fort do.