Savashna

Inside the spacious yet now dilapidated doorway, adorned with intricate wooden carvings, my steps falter as I approach the threshold of the old mansion. Did the lady of this house once step across this very threshold with auspicious, ornamented feet? Did the courtyard wait for that blessed moment, holding intricate rangoli patterns in its cupped palms?

Now, all that grandeur has faded away.

In a niche lies the household shrine. When I peer inside, whose reassuring brass idol is that, glowing faintly in the dim light? As I make my way up the dark staircase, I wonder: How many pairs of anklets must have waited helplessly here, longing for the arrival of their mistresses?

A vast central courtyard. In it stands a large earthen pot, buried almost up to its mouth. Have the vibrant voices that once filled this mansion disappeared into the darkness within that pot?

Why? What could have happened here?

Unanswered questions dangle from my mind like heavy chains. I must leave, carrying their weight with me. Will these mysteries ever be unravelled? O, great chronicler of history, do you know the answers to my questions, hidden away in the time capsule of the past?