Meher Mehal Saga Poem by Sumita Jetley

In Rajasthan's sands, where whispers lay,
Stood Meher Mahal, in a grand decay.
Its walls held secrets, its arches sighed,
Of times now lost, of dreams that died.

A lone caretaker, Rukmini stayed,
Her words were few, her thoughts well-laid.
A stranger came with a curious plea,
To hear the haveli's history.

Through shadowed halls, as night grew deep,
Aarav wandered, stirred from sleep.
A melody called, a sitar's tune,
Beneath the glow of a rising moon.

A fresco gleamed of a woman fair,
Her painted gaze seemed to hold a stare.
The air grew heavy, the past drew near,
A story unfolded, crystal clear.

The courtyard lit with a timeless glow,
As regal guests moved to and fro.
A player sat with her strings in hand,
Her music flowed like desert sand.

Eyes met eyes, across the stream,
A fleeting moment, a waking dream.
The music spoke of joy and pain,
A world once lived, now lost again.

As quickly as the vision grew,
The fresco dimmed, the night withdrew.
But in his heart, the melody stayed,
A song of the past, in silence played.

Rukmini whispered, her voice a breeze,
'This haveli speaks to hearts that please.'
Aarav departed, his journal bare,
But Meher Mahal's soul lingered there.