Dwarka: His Golden City

In the solemn oceans and raging seas lies a city golden
Like a throaty laugh amongst those erupting a strangled cry
The floors seem like the satin touch of a flower newborn
And it is said, above Dwarka, Indra too refuses to own the sky.
In that city, his footsteps soft like a secret through the depths of the ravine
Their thud echoes across the three worlds where the most beautiful of apsaras lie
But their beauty matches not an ounce of his silk-like, divine, pink feet
And slightly sing for their lord in ecstasy do his anklets, as if admiring much but shy.
His skin like a touch of a rose on a dewy winter morning, say the calves he pets
His rain cloud hue seems to reflect the stars brilliantly when the night too visits by
To steal a glance at his form worthy of writing infinite hymns on and about
His fragrance like the smell of sand after a fitful shower in the midst of July.
His throne sighs as it smiles to count its fortunes to have the lord position himself
Upon its undeserving length, it smiles to feel the emperor of its heart and city on it lie,
The people of the kingdom dissolve into their mirth, they be one with their king
Who truly is Krishna, the lord, and in his human form in Dwarka, does he lie.
This truth know all, ear all and say all of the radiant, fair and golden city
That his bejewelled streets were like no other filled with silence and justice sweet
His skies unparalleled in their hues that reflect Shyam and are Shyam in a form raw
For it seems to all that his horizons are where his mirth and charming smile meet.
His heart warmer than the thousand flames that engulf the palace in unearthly light
His kindness stretching across the expanse of sea that grips Dwarka from all around
Or perhaps, say the ones residing there in a whisper as they talk about the great king
It is him itself, who grips the cities stretching afar, for Krishna knows not one bound.
The hawker skips across in luscious jewels calling out for those desiring his fruit
For even seldom not, impossible it is to not have a morsel of food by one’s pink lip
All of Dwarka sighs as they chew upon delicacies of foreign lands, lands of the lords
A meal Krishna seemed to have made, provided and placed on their soft tongue tip.
He lies in all his glory upon his throne with a peacock feather upon his curly locks
Justice reflecting aimlessly as he aims all with his artistically incomprehensible smile
His yellow robes like a tulip’s bloom on a summery night, tangling with the winds
And at night, Dwarka weeps into their pillows, unable to see their lord awhile.
But each morning rises like the call of the cuckoo in the distance
And in the oceans lies Dwarka, like a tinkling laugh amongst many a strangled cry
For Krishna, he lies there, the emperor of Dwarka and all of its hearts
And stare at his beautiful form, the rain clouds coy and shy.
For he wins the hearts of all-
The king of Dwarka. The king of hearts.

A/N: Did you honestly think I would let you go without annoying you? 🙃 First of all, my heartfelt thanks for making it so far. I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it!

Secondly, my heart is truly overflowing with gratitude right now- the past couple of days have been so overwhelmingly beautiful- all thanks to my beautiful osdotme family. I had never in my wildest dreams expected all that work behind the scenes to make my birthday memorable- which you did, far more than anything that I remember so far, I shall always, always treasure and remember this. ❤️ Also, I truly wanted to write a post, although it would probably be totally less than half of the the beauty that lay in yours, but I’m going through a bad state of writers’ block right now, feeling slightly mentally exhausted with all the cramming! 🙃 This poem was an old one of mine, yet not only did I plan to share it with you after exams, it was the least I could do for the some very sweet people who asked me to publish a post. I’m grateful beyond words and speechless by what all has happened on this sweet, sweet platform on November 1- not that otherwise every word and compliment spoken here isn’t a pleasant surprise 💞. I’ll definitely keep my promise and write whenever I’m able to, though. 

Also, my utmost, heartfelt thanks to my lovely mumma, for organising such an incredible surprise and making my birthday just as special as my life, just as special as her smile. My absolute thanks to papa for contributing so lovingly to my birthday surprises and smiling his wide smile making my day so much more special. Thank you, didi, for not making me disappear as soon as I was born 🙃 Just kidding- who would have woken you up from your afternoon naps then? I love you! 

I love all of you so much, and two syllables merging to form a phrase simply cannot express my gratitude. But, it’s the least I can do, since it is impossible for me to return even a fraction of love that you all have shown me. Thank you. Thank you so much for writing those bewitching posts, for those sweet messages, for those mirthful calls, for those enrapturing smile. Thank you, for being my family. Take care! Jai Sri Hari!

P.S: Sorry for the poem formatting (The lines were rather long, and in spite of changing font size I was unable to accommodate it) and the slightly lousy language use in the Author’s Note. Looks like the exam fever still hasn’t worn off. 🙁