TALES WOVEN IN SILKEN SHADOWS
-
R. S. Chaithanya (India)
Underneath
the ancient banyan's spread,
Where
tales weave like threads through silken air,
The
hearts of poets dance, the spirits fed ,
In
verses rich, ignited from despair.
In
the land where the rivers weave tales,
The
Ramayana echoes in the forest trails,
A
saga of duty , love , and the fight for the right,
Where
dharma shines like the stars in the night.
From
the banks of Ganga, where sages tread,
To
the bustling streets where dreams collide,
In
the echoes of the past, we're led,
By
legends held close, where shadows abide.
With
every ink drop spilled on paper white,
An
empire of thoughts unshackles, takes flight,
Saucy
romances simmer, epics ignite,
In
the heart of India, where day meets night.
And
beneath the spires of Mughal might,
Where
gardens bloom in the soft moonlight,
Mirza
and Sahiba whisper in the breeze,
Their
love a tapestry stitched with ease.
Glimmers
of love in a lover's sigh,
Mountains
that witness the teardrop's fall,
Each
story a star in an endless sky,
From
the ground, to the heavens,
we
rise and sprawl.
Oh,
celebrate the banquet of minds,
Where
each dish served is a cultural feast,
In
the richness of words, the soul unwinds,
In
every stanza, a longing increased.
Then
came the Mahabharata, a war of the heart,
Where
grim-faced warriors played their fated part,
Karna,
the noble, yet chained by his birth,
Fought
with honor, finding strength in his worth.
So
gather, dear hearts,
let
the verses ring, In unity's grasp,
let
our spirits take wing,
For
in the beauty of prose that we bring,
Lies
the essence of life, and the hope we cling.
****