The Young Sawai

In glassy waters reflects the city of pink,

While two hearts try to catch each other's wink

In the old polo club waited on by men in turban,

Once sat English generals sipping ice and bourbon

Serpentine roads leading upto walls,

Under lonely moon, a sight enthralls

The history of the place, the guide imparts,

Standing majestically, the fort's ramparts

At the top flies the flag of kings,

At the base, the old beggar sings.

A single lamp lights the palace of glass,

Adorning regal busts of copper and brass

Pondering through the ornate window, sat the young Sawai

Reminiscing the ancestral reign in glory high.

Reminiscence of Pangong

Here I am,

Fourteen thousand feet above,

Heart resting in olive and dove

Under crescent moon, cloudy sky

Not a star shining bright,

Near brown and yellow armies marching, left and right

Barren land with no bloom,

Chilly winds adding to the gloom

Snowcapped giants flanking each side,

Skirting the flowing and ebbing tide.

Above crunching gravel and pebbles fine,

Why do I hear no other step by mine!

Far away you are, not in sight

Here I am, walking into the lonely night.