The Ramparts of an Old Fort
The ramparts of the fort
are knocked down by time.
The walls guarded once a noble race
and the men living in, guarded the walls.
Now all a monumental wreck.
Those who dwelt inside the halls are gone.
There is no one now
who can recount their tales.
No historian has dug up the earth for the exact, accurate secret of their fall.
The walls beckon every passer-by.
They have a narrative to share and be lived
all over again in the vaults of time.
But walls are not known to have a voice and a tongue.
But if you listen, you may hear them speak.
Their saga is buried
in some spaces in their heart where once the young queens lived in the harems and the young princes rode out on horse backs and never came back alive.
This is what I heard the walls say,
but I also hear them despair because there was something more or perhaps something else they said, or wanted to say and could not say.
I hear the reproach in their silence.
'You will never get us right", they say,
"And no one could to this day.
Relics of the past are forbidden to speak the complete truth", they say.
So that's how legends and myths come into being and time intends to let them reign.
You will have a host of stories
but never the truth."
I hear them groan under the burden of the story untold
that lies imprisoned in the vaults of old.
Listen, they are pleading,
"Be the champion of my lost cause;
I will tell you all.
Then you may find the breath of the wind of the past sweeping through the closed ramparts and crumbled walls.
It will bring the wilderness back to life.
See, the memories
.have already begun to walk ,
defying the shackles of time.
Once again when the evening comes
there comes the sound of the silver-chains with little bells jingling on the ankles and toes
of virgin brides who illumined the rampart walls
every evening with rows of lamps all aglow.
And every evening when that sound is heard
the rocks and the stones
are filled with breath and life.
Someone caresses me with love
as I remember my promise not to say
a word of what I know.
The ramparts of the fort
are knocked down by time.
The walls guarded once a noble race
and the men living in, guarded the walls.
Now all a monumental wreck.
Those who dwelt inside the halls are gone.
There is no one now
who can recount their tales.
No historian has dug up the earth for the exact, accurate secret of their fall.
The walls beckon every passer-by.
They have a narrative to share and be lived
all over again in the vaults of time.
But walls are not known to have a voice and a tongue.
But if you listen, you may hear them speak.
Their saga is buried
in some spaces in their heart where once the young queens lived in the harems and the young princes rode out on horse backs and never came back alive.
This is what I heard the walls say,
but I also hear them despair because there was something more or perhaps something else they said, or wanted to say and could not say.
I hear the reproach in their silence.
'You will never get us right", they say,
"And no one could to this day.
Relics of the past are forbidden to speak the complete truth", they say.
So that's how legends and myths come into being and time intends to let them reign.
You will have a host of stories
but never the truth."
I hear them groan under the burden of the story untold
that lies imprisoned in the vaults of old.
Listen, they are pleading,
"Be the champion of my lost cause;
I will tell you all.
Then you may find the breath of the wind of the past sweeping through the closed ramparts and crumbled walls.
It will bring the wilderness back to life.
See, the memories
.have already begun to walk ,
defying the shackles of time.
Once again when the evening comes
there comes the sound of the silver-chains with little bells jingling on the ankles and toes
of virgin brides who illumined the rampart walls
every evening with rows of lamps all aglow.
And every evening when that sound is heard
the rocks and the stones
are filled with breath and life.
Someone caresses me with love
as I remember my promise not to say
a word of what I know.
locals moving their village elsewhere.
The Royal Palace is located at the extreme end of the fort’s limits and was protected by two inner fortifications across the valley. The town is separated from the plain by ramparts with five gates.
Featured image: Bhangarh Fort, India ( bolteraho.com)
Bhangarh Fort: The 'most haunted' place in India? – Times of India. Available from: http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/life-style/Bhangarh-Fort-The-most-haunted-place-in-India/articleshow/21083288.cms
Bhangarh Fort – Rajasthanaamantran.com. Available from: http://www.rajasthanaamantran.com/Fort.php
Bhangarh Fort – Wikipedia. Available from: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bhangarh_Fort
Despite the picturesque setting of Bhangarh Fort,
locals moved their town elsewhere and the site was abandoned over 200
years ago ( Wikimedia Commons )
Through the main gate of the fort city, now called the Bhoot Bangla
("House of Ghosts"), there are numerous Hindu temples. The most
spectacular of these buildings are the Hanuman Temple, Gopinath Temple,
Someshwar Temple, Keshav Rai Temple, Mangla Devi Temple, Ganesh Temple
and Navin Temple. The Royal Palace is located at the extreme end of the fort’s limits and was protected by two inner fortifications across the valley. The town is separated from the plain by ramparts with five gates.
The sprawling grounds of Bhangarh Fort. Source: BigStockPhoto
The Legends of Bhangarh
According to legend, the city of Bhangarh was cursed by a holy man named Baba Balnath, who had given permission for the construction of the town so long as the height of the buildings did not cast shadow over his retreat. Balnath warned that if this were to occur, he would destroy the entire city. When a descendant prince raised the palace to a height that cast a shadow over Bhangarh’s abode, it is said that he cursed the whole town. Many believe that Balanath is buried there to this day.
Baba Balnath was a holy man who is believed to
have cursed Bhangarh after its buildings cast a shadow over his abode.
Gopinath Temple at Bhangarh Fort ( Wikipedia)
A second legend is related to a wizard named Singhiya, who was in
love with Ratnavati, the Princess of Bhangarh. According to this tale,
Singhiya placed a spell upon a fragrance being purchased by the
princess’ maid, so that upon touching it, the princess would fall in
love with him. But Ratnavati saw what the wizard was doing and foiled
his plan. Feeling bitter, the wizard was said to have placed a curse
upon the city, and many believe his ghost haunts the ill-fated city.
Some locals believe that princess Ratnavati reincarnated in a new body
and that Bhangarh Fort is waiting for her return to put an end to the
curse.
Locals believe that Princess Ratnavati must return to Bhangarh Fort to free the city from its curse. ( Wikimedia Commons )
While these legends seem like nothing more than fanciful tales, the
stories have become so widely reported, and believed, that the
Archaeological Survey of India has placed a sign at the entrance to
Bhangarh Fort forbidding entry after dark. Locals say whoever has tried
to stay inside after sunset have never come out. Nevertheless, it is
these very tales that continue to attract thousands of tourists every
year, eager to experience the haunted and cursed city of Bhangarh. Featured image: Bhangarh Fort, India ( bolteraho.com)
References
Bhangarh Fort – Atlas Obscura. Available from: http://www.atlasobscura.com/places/bhangarh-fortBhangarh Fort: The 'most haunted' place in India? – Times of India. Available from: http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/life-style/Bhangarh-Fort-The-most-haunted-place-in-India/articleshow/21083288.cms
Bhangarh Fort – Rajasthanaamantran.com. Available from: http://www.rajasthanaamantran.com/Fort.php
Bhangarh Fort – Wikipedia. Available from: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bhangarh_Fort
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Ricky.