I spent a morning exploring the ruins of Delhis past .. like with any affair of the heart I hope that the residual smoulder is enough to indicate the intensity of the fire .. The ruins of the Delhis of the past , renewed my lifeblood .. it gave me back a peice of myself that I had lost somewhere along the way . This headlong battle that we enter of a humdrum existence .. where we slowly lose the essence of ourselves and at some points can no longer appreciate the pleasures of ignorance .. Atlamash , Razia Sultan ,Balan, the moghuls – Babar, Humayun, Akbar, Shahjaha, Aurangzeb, Darashikoh , Allahudin Khilji, The Tuglaq kings .. Prithviraj Chauhan , Priyadarshi Ashok, the Mauryas and Kushans …. they seemed to come alive and walk in the lanes and bylanes of this ancient city.. a city that should be revered .. that should be our pride and joy , an embodiment of all the realities that India can be . Yet we reduce it to this dirty filthy cesspool of political dirt .. and drain our motherland of its lifeblood , like a vampire sucking you dry .. the city like an ancient palmists reveals it’s secrets one by one . I can only image this land being populated with Chankya and Chandragupt Maurya and all their Majesties . Today all I have to offer you is a few ancient ruins that tell of glorious pasts , that no one really pays attention to .. they will slowly disappear with time because we ignore them .. and we too shall lose our individual character and be reduced to a faceless ,nameless mass and hence the end of India shall come about .
We as a nation stand at a cross roads .. it could turn into a precipice and lead to our downfall or we could recover our losses and scale new heights . Everything depends on the spirit of the people of this land . Will we fight to live to see another day or will we consign our selves to the darkness pits of Tartarus . This is one of those cross roads that decides the destinies of our children and our children’s children’s – for many a generation to come .
Photo Credit: Yours Truly
“She was like some ancient palimpsest on which layer upon layer of thought and reverie had been inscribed, and yet no succeeding layer had completely hidden or erased what had been written previously. All of these had existed in our conscious or subconscious selves, though we may not have been aware of them. And they have gone to build up the complex mysterious personality of India. ”
Jawaharlal Nehru, The Discovery of India