“The City That Was Blue”


“What is a city but the people.” ~Shakespeare

“Even cities have their own graveyards.”~Unknown

“The first requisite to happiness is that a man be born in a famous city.” ~ Euripides

While we move ahead, the tussle between nostalgic past and lustful but fascinating future grows manifold. The future feasts on the past. A city dies and a new city emerges from its ashes. To my muse, my fascination: Jodhpur.

“The City That Was Blue”

I die in smidgeons

And breathe life every moment

But in the run for bread

You see not on my face

The blotches of wrecked past

And green scratches of late

But never I die complete

And never am I a new born

For from graveyards I rise

And from grim weeps I laugh

I am a city you festooned

I am a city you plundered

You have been my conceiver

And you have been my child

You stoned me all red

And you walled me all around

You painted me blue

And you stripped my pride

I reminisce the glorious past

But never I reclusely repine

I have been a widow,

And I have been a bride

I am a city you mused

I am a city you wrecked

Blood, betrayals and massacres

And when the sky is moonlit not

resonates in the donjons of fort

the voices which were violent

and the screams of dead

but you hear and see not

in the screeches of honkers

and in the black of the smoke

that you embrace all in vogue

at the price of majestic past

I am city you cradled

I am a city you orphaned


The Sun dimmed not in bright

across the roofs and terrains

and the towering clock

still believes unwisely

that times have changed not

I tell him not and the city gates

that regality sees not

light beyond the Umaid*

that you made me all concrete

and you made me all glass

I am the city you built

I am the city you killed

Rakesh Kumar